Page 111 of This Heart Of Mine (Chicago Stars 5)

She didn’t want to be Molly. If she were Molly, she’d have to grab her clothes and put them right back on, because Molly wasn’t self-destructive.

She was only a slave girl, and she bowed her head submissively as he drew back and gazed down at her naked breasts, now exposed to his predatory emerald eyes. She shivered and waited. Cotton rustled as he drew his T-shirt—his silken robe—over his head and tossed it aside. She squeezed her eyes shut when he pulled her against him, his conqueror’s chest pressed to her naked, defenseless breasts.

Tremors swept over the sensitive skin as he began to nibble kisses, like a golden slave’s collar, around her throat, then down to the breasts that no longer belonged to her. They were his. Every part of her body belonged to him! Her knees grew weak and sagged. She wanted this so much, but she needed desperately to hold on to her fantasy.

Master… Slave girl… His to do with as he wished. Mustn’t anger him… Let him—oh, yes—extend the trail of kisses over her ribs to her navel, her stomach, gliding over her hipbones as his thumbs caught the elastic on her panties.

Concentrate! Envision those cruel lips! Those cutting eyes! The dreadful penalty the slave girl would pay if she didn’t ease her legs open so he could slip his hand between them. Her merciless master… Her savage owner… Her—

“There’s a bunny on your panties.”

Even the most creative mind couldn’t have held a fantasy together against that dark, husky chuckle. She glared at him, then grew uncomfortably conscious that one of them still wore a pair of khaki slacks while the other wore only a sky blue pair of bunny panties.

“What if there is?”

He straightened and rubbed his fingers over the front of the panties, making her shiver as he gave the little bunny a pat. “Just wondering.”

“They were a present from Phoebe. A surprise.”

“They sure surprised me.” He nuzzled her neck while he continued patting her bunny. “Are these the only ones?”

She sucked in her breath. “There… might be a few more.”

He splayed his other hand across her bottom and massaged. “You got the badger dude on any of them?”

She did. Benny, with his cute little badger mask. “Could you stop… talking… and get back to… ahh… conquering.”

“Conquering?” He slipped one long finger beneath the elastic leg band.

“Never mind.” She sighed as he rubbed. Oh, that was wicked. She eased her legs open and let him go where he wanted.

And he wanted to go everywhere.

Before she knew it, her panties were gone, along with his clothes, and they were naked on her bed, too impatient to pull down the quilt.

Their play turned serious much too soon. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her on top of him—the servicing position. She wiggled up his body, caught his head in her hands, and kissed him again, hoping to slow him down.

“You’re so sweet…” he murmured in her mouth.

But he was impossible to distract. He caught the back of her knees and spread them over his hips. Here it came. She braced herself for his thrust and bit her lip to keep from yelling at him to take his time, for Pete’s sake, and sto

p acting as if the ref just blew the two-minute warning!

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t criticize, so she sank her teeth into the hard muscle of his shoulder instead.

He made a low, hoarse sound that might have been pain or pleasure, and the next thing she knew she was on her back and he was hovering over her, those green eyes wicked.

“So the bunny lady wants to play rough?”

With two hundred pounds of muscle? Oh, I don’t think so.

She started to tell him she’d only been trying to distract him so he wouldn’t be so quick on the trigger, but he shackled her wrists and made a dive for her breast.

Ahhhhh … It was torture. Agony. Worse than agony. How could one mouth cause so much havoc? And she didn’t ever want it to stop.

He brushed his lips over the slope of her breast. He grazed the nipple, moved to the other breast, where he did the same. Then, without warning, he began to suckle__

She writhed against him, but he didn’t release the wrists he’d imprisoned in one hand. Leaving the other free to roam.

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