pulled gently but firmly behind my back as Zach whispered my name seductively in my ear. Something soft and lacy was wrapped tightly around my wrists, binding them together at the small of my back.
“Your skin looks lovely against black lace.” Zach’s voice was rough, silk over gravel, as he whirled me around yet again. I leaned back against the wall, my arched back thrusting my breasts and their erect nipples forward, an offering for him.
Black lace. Oh, Lord.
He had tied me up with my own panties.
“Does this turn you on?” His voice was matter-of-fact, as though he already knew the answer. And as I pulled at my bonds, examined the anxiety that being tied gave me, I saw that he was right.
My anger at him had nothing to do with the way in which he was touching me now—in fact, the uncertainty and anxiousness brought about by his physical demands made me want him with an abandon that I hadn’t been aware I possessed.
I trusted that he wasn’t going to push me further than I wanted to go, physically.
Emotionally . . . well, I was still figuring that one out.
My pulse exploded when Zach—big, gorgeous Zachariah St. Brenton—dropped to his knees in front of me. Hooking his fingers into the cloth of my skirt, he impatiently tugged it up until it was bunched around my waist. His hands cupped the backs of my knees, then slowly slid up until my buttocks were grasped, and he kneaded with firm fingers.
“Open your legs.” I wanted to obey. Heaven knew it was to my benefit to do so. But I found myself so overwhelmed with sensation that I couldn’t move, frozen in place against the wall.
“Consequences, Devon.” Then those strong hands slid forward, over my hips and between my thighs, shoving my legs apart with a roughness that I knew would leave a bruise.
I thrilled to the edge of violence in his handling of me. I was wet, my skin hot, my body trembling.
“I’m going to have your pussy.” With his thumbs he delved between the lips of my labia, opening me to the world. I shivered when the cool air hit my clit.
Zach lowered his head, blowing heated air over my tender flesh. I cried out, my hips bucking forward, and earned a sharp smack on my hip for my impatience.
“This isn’t for your benefit.” I couldn’t imagine how it could be for the benefit of anyone else when he closed his lips over the extended bud of my clit. A wail escaped me when, without warning, he closed his lips and his teeth over the sensitive nub and began to work me with the skill of a confident lover.
Though he was clearly upset with me, I thought I saw the ghost of a smile whisper over his lips at my heated reaction to his touch.
I struggled against the fabric that held my arms behind me. I wanted to fist my hands in the wealth of his dark hair, wanted to pull his face even closer. Not being able to touch the gorgeous creature who was tonguing my pussy was torture.
The thumbs that had been holding me open slipped inside me, just enough to stretch the tender flesh and make me buck my hips forward. I felt release circling like a hungry shark, so close to its prey.
Zach took me to the very edge, right to the moment before my flesh began to spasm with pleasure, and slid his thumbs out of my slick heat in the same moment in which he removed his lips from my clit.
“No!” Frantic, I stepped away from the wall and pressed myself against him shamelessly. I wanted—needed—his heat, his fire. I almost sobbed, my legs shaking, when he pushed me away, again turning me so that I faced the wall.
Fisting one hand in my ponytail, he tugged until I leaned back against his chest. I resisted, furious at what he had just done.
“You have to understand.” Releasing my hair, he pressed his palm to the flat of my back, pushing me into the hard wall. I could feel the chill through the thin material of my blouse and my bra, and squeezed my eyes shut in defense against whatever was to come next.
I heard the sound of his belt buckle, then
Marguerite Henry, Bonnie Shields