Page 316 of Hell Hath No Fury
I love that he opened my eyes to the reality of the world. That he shifted a black and white picture into something with a million shades of grey. I just wish he made it easier to feel this way.
He sucks on my clit, making me shudder. Those hands dig harder into my ass.
I grind into him, demanding more.
He licks. Growls. Nuzzles.
My orgasm builds. Fast. Without any penetration other than his tongue at my slit. I pant, about to come. I’m so close it’s almost painful.
Then he pulls back, stripping me of the pleasure to rest on his haunches. “Get to the bedroom.”
“No.” I struggle for breath, gasping, wanting. “I was just about to—”
“I know exactly what you were just about to do, and you’re not doing it here.” He stands and reaches out a hand, helping me to my feet. “I want you on our bed.”
He drags me up the remaining stairs, my pin skirt around my hips, my pantyhose gaping between my thighs. We reach our bedroom and he flicks on the light, exposing the anomaly resting against my black pillowcase—a pair of shiny metal handcuffs.
He’s pulling out all the stops.
I saunter to my side of the bed and grab the gift. “Are these for you or me?”
“I’ve been in cuffs enough times to appreciate the freedom.” He kicks off his shoes and follows to stand behind me. “It’s time for my favorite FBI agent to experience what it feels like.”
I wince at the reminder of the career that constantly comes between us.
“Don’t worry. I’ll set you free.” His palm slides down my forearm to the cuffs, gently dragging them from my grip. “Eventually.”
I turn to him, not wanting to be restricted but unable to deny him. I’ve fought against his rules and limitations. I won’t fight against his pleasure.
Cold metal slowly tightens around one of my wrists, the grate of the clasp loud in the quiet bedroom.
“That’s my good little fox.” He walks into me, guiding me backward until my legs hit the bed.
I sink onto the mattress as he coaxes my shackled wrist toward the bed frame, clasping the other half of the cuff around the ornate wooden post.
“That was a mistake,” he taunts. “What if I never release you?”
“You will. You wouldn’t get to sleep with me again if you kept me this much of a prisoner.”
His lips kick in a sly grin. “Your greedy pussy would never deny me.”
He’s right. Even held captive and confined to a bed against my will, I swear I’d let him fuck me. I’m sick like that. But he doesn’t need to know the extent of my weakness for him.
Cole spreads my legs and climbs onto the bed between them. His touch possessively glides over my hips, my waist, to the front of my blouse. He fists the material at my chest, his eyes on mine as he yanks, ripping apart the buttons.
I gasp.
He’s different tonight. More animalistic. Hardened somehow.
He settles his hips against mine, grinding the generous length of his erection into my mound. Usually he wants me naked. Not a slip of fabric between us. But he remains clothed, cupping one of my breasts through my lace bra to suckle me through the material.
I moan, my nipples tingling.
He keeps grinding into me, simulating sex despite the layers separating us.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, gliding my free hand around his neck.
“Don’t be impatient.”
