The Captain's Wicked Wager by Marguerite Kaye Read Free Book Online Page B

pleasure of it. She climbed onto the bed between his legs. Leaning over him, she allowed her nipples to graze the skin of his abdomen. She shivered at the contact and stooped down to lickhim, tracing the line of his rib cage with her tongue. Stopped to watch him.
    His eyes darkened with desire. She felt him strain at the ribbons again. “Kiss me, Belle,” he whispered huskily.
    She shook her head. Leaning over him again, she traced a path with her tongue down his stomach, cradling his length between her breasts, teasing him with her nipples, relishing the feel of their hardness against his silken skin. Down she licked; the inside of his thigh then the other, revelling in the heat and maleness of him, feeling herself tight and wet, aware of his breathing becoming harsh and quicker as she lingered on the crease at the top of his leg.
    “Do you like being my prisoner, Ewan?” she asked, her mouth against his skin.
    Silence.
    Her finger fluttering along the length of him. Circling the tip. Her tongue now, repeating the action, licking her way up, lingering, circling. Ewan groaned.
    “Tell me you surrender, Ewan,” she whispered.
    “No,” he managed through gritted teeth, straining at the ribbons.
    Belle licked again. More than anything she wanted his hands on her, his lips on her, but that way lay capitulation and she was not ready for that. Not yet. Daringly, she put her lips around him and sucked gently. Silence of a different sort. She sucked again. Breathing so rapid she thought he was in pain. Looked up. Saw his eyes fly open.
    “Don’t stop.”
    “Say it,” she insisted.
    Her lips on him again. He thought he would die with the pleasure. Now butterfly kisses and fingers stroking, her lips again. Now looking at him, demanding. Ewan closed his eyes and looked away, praying she would have pity.
    She remembered last night. She could do the same to him. She could have him without allowing him to have her. It was a powerfully erotic image. Ewan was looking at her. She could see the plea in his eyes, though he would not say it. She touched him with her fingers, stroking until she could feel the blood pulse, stopping as it did, glorying in the exquisite pain she could see etched on his face.
    She put her lips around him again, drew him in as much as she could hold. Sucking purposefully now, feeling him engorged in her mouth, aware of him straining, breathing, saying her name, but caught up in her own powerful need to control him, feel him, and then he came, and finally she heard him, over and over again, saying the words, I surrender, but she didn’t care anymore and it didn’t feel like a victory; it simply felt right.
    She lay on his stomach. She could feel his heart beating hard. She was conscious of her own arousal, and wondered what to do about it. She could make him tend to her as he had last night, but that was not what she wanted. She wanted him inside her. Cautiously, she touched him. Wondering.
    A throaty chuckle. “Give me a moment.”
    She looked up. “Fighting back, Ewan?”
    He shook his head. “Simply trying to do your bidding, but I need time to recover. If you untied me, itwould help.”
    But she would not. And it did not take so very long after all.;
    Lowering herself onto him, shivering as she felt him enter her, satin smooth and hard in contrast to her soft and wet core. Slowly, she sheathed him until he filled her, and she held him without moving.
    “Belle,” Ewan said urgently…“Belle, untie me.”
    She shook her head. Even that tiny movement reverberated inside her.
    Ewan strained at the ribbons holding him but to no avail. Belle moved again, up, down, slow, too slow, tilting herself forward on top of him, nipples grazing his chest. She was doing something else now, so that he was caught in a vicelike grip inside her. He felt the blood rushing. “Let me go, Belle.”
    Still she denied him, squirming on top of him, enjoying the friction, enjoying the power she had over him, enjoying the