BargainWiththeBeast (9 page)

“Get on the bed.”

The quiet command drew her attention back to him. Xavier had
moved to the small dresser flanking the bed. Though his eyes tracked her slow
progress, he pulled open the top drawer, dipped his hand inside and pulled an
object free. Gwendolyn flicked a glance at his fist and pulled up short. Shock,
apprehension and a sliver of…excitement sliced through her.

Thin, shiny black strips dangled from his closed hand.

Ties. Recognition slapped her and she jerked her inspection
to his face. The stark mask of lust snatched the breath from her throat. Skin
stretched tight over his cheekbones. Nostrils flared slightly as if to catch
the perfume of her arousal. His green eyes glittered and the sensual fullness
of his lips flattened into a straight, hard line. As if his hungry stare were
the match and her arousal the accelerant, heat whooshed through her veins like
a flash fire, setting her breasts and sex aflame. A small moan escaped her
throat and his gaze narrowed, sharpened.

What was happening to her? She’d never gone for extreme sex
games or BDSM. Granted, until last night, her sex life had been very tame and
sedate—nice, but not the screaming, cataclysmic experience Xavier had supplied
her. But still she didn’t like being tied up, bent over or spanked…did she?

“On the bed, Gwendolyn,” he repeated and the low, rough
timbre stroked over her skin like a calloused hand—gentle, yet hard enough to
leave tingles behind. Like a drunken woman, she stumbled the last few feet
until her thighs bumped the edge of the mattress. She raised a bent knee and
rested it on the covers. On the other side of the bed, Xavier mimicked her
movements. In seconds they both knelt, facing each other like an erotic game of
chicken. “Give me your hands.”

Disobedience wasn’t an option. Yes, she was in the dark
regarding his intentions, but she wanted whatever he could give her. God, did
she want it. Wanted
him
. She extended her arms, fists down, and Xavier
engulfed her hand within his larger one. He turned the fist over, opened it and
grazed the sensitive skin of her palm with his fingertips. The small stroke
reverberated in her clit and she bit back a gasp.

He drew a tiny circle and, this time, she didn’t contain the
moan. Or the groan. And when he lifted his finger to his mouth, sucked on the
tip and traced a damp line from her wrist to the base of her thumb, she
trembled and squeezed her thighs against the fluttering in her pussy. Such a
benign caress and yet it echoed between her legs as if he’d traced the crease
of her pulsing sex.

With her skin still tingling from his touch, Xavier laid the
leather ties across her open palm. She stared down at the slender black strips,
lost.

She frowned, glanced up at him. “Xavier?”

Her bewilderment increased when he released her and
presented his loosely closed fists as if he wanted her to… No, he couldn’t
intend…

But one glance at his hooded eyes and the grim set of his
mouth confirmed her suspicions. The ties weren’t meant for her…but for him.

She clutched the slim, leather straps and their
inconsequential weight was incongruous when compared to their significance.
This man who prized control and trusted no one had handed her a tiny measure of
both.

She closed her eyes and hope jimmied open her heart and the
tiniest degree slipped through once again. With a sigh that sounded more like a
sob, she lifted her lashes and fastened the ends of the ties around his thick
wrists.

Silent, his intense, bright stare fixed on her, Xavier reclined
on the bed and stretched his arms above his head. The sinew and tendons were
delineated beneath his golden skin like a powerful, deadly panther at rest yet
ready to spring at the slightest threat…or sight of prey.

With a slight shift, she knelt at his side, her knees
brushing the soft patch of fur beneath his arm. Controlling the tremble in her
fingers as she tied the leather strips to the bedpost proved impossible. The
resulting knot wouldn’t present a challenge should he decide to break free, but
it was all her virgin bondage skills could manage.

Awkward and more than a little embarrassed, she straddled
his torso. She transferred her weight, preparing to move to the other side of
his body in order to reach the last binding. Even as she lifted her leg, his
small inhalation stopped her. She dropped her gaze and
good God
. Her
core contracted and a wave of desire almost propelled her down to his chest.

Long, dark lashes concealed his gemlike stare. His thin,
aristocratic nostrils flared and his chest rose to press her opened sex as he
deeply drew in her scent. His full, sensual lips parted as if he tasted the
aroma signaling her arousal. The unguarded, pure delight softened his features
and lanced her heart. Outside this bedroom, he would never reveal such an
uninhibited, honest delight. He would consider the reaction a vulnerability, a
weakness. But here in this bed, he admitted a glimpse into the hedonistic
animal that enjoyed pleasure and reciprocating it.

He raised his eyelids and his intent inspection ignited a
fire in her only he could extinguish. An image of her rubbing over his body in
a long, sinuous caress like a cat in heat flashed across her mind’s eye. She
longed to discard every perception of sex she’d ever harbored and redefine it
with him. Let him show her what desire, touching and ecstasy entailed.

If this man was the poisonous fruit, she would gladly gorge
on it and dive into Death’s embrace. He would so be worth the sin and fall.

Her pulse accelerated as she swung her leg over his body and
completed binding him to the bed. The deed done, she didn’t resist the impulse
to trail a caress down the corded muscle under his arm. She leaned back on her
haunches and beheld Xavier bound, stretched and contained.

Like a harnessed tornado—dangerous and wildly exciting.

His wide chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths,
causing his ridged abdomen to stand out in stark relief. She longed to savor
every intriguing crest and dip of his rib cage. Travel to the shallow
indentation of his navel. Curl her fingers through the wiry, russet thatch of
hair surrounding the thick, long column of flesh flexing next to his muscled
thigh. Smooth her cheek over his cock and inhale the musky, sexy, spicy scent
belonging solely to him.

“Why?” she whispered, the reason flickering like a tiny
spark of longing against the encompassing darkness of fear. She wanted him to
speak the words and fan the flame sputtering in the face of her doubt.

“I’ve taken from you, Gwen,” he murmured. “Take from me. All
I have to give.” Though his hands were restrained, his hot stare stroked her as
if they were unbound, free to stir her desire to a fever pitch.

All that I have to give.
Not the declaration her
heart desired to hear, but more than she had this morning. And for now, with
his trusting her with his body and satisfaction, the offer was enough.

The inside of her thigh slid over his abdomen as she
reclaimed her position astride his upper body. A hum of delight caught her by
surprise—she hadn’t meant to release it. But as she stroked her palms over the
firm plane of his chest and the small, hard pebbles of his dark-brown nipples
grazed her skin, shivers coursed up her arms to her breasts, down her stomach
and settled in her clit like a low-level buzz of electricity.

His beauty awed her.

She formed a bracket with her thumbs on either side of the
thin patch of skin that throbbed in the dip of his throat. His life’s blood
pounded under her touch and the primal rhythm surged through her, connecting
them. Gently, she cupped his face and lowered her forehead to his until their
breath mingled, mated. His soft sigh reached her seconds before he tipped his
chin upward and claimed her mouth.

How did he manage to wrest control from her when he was the
one bound? He pierced her lips with his tongue and licked the roof of her
mouth, inviting her to join the sensuous ballet.

She emitted a groan. He did have complete domination.

His wild, wind-and-rain taste overwhelmed her. He nipped her
bottom lip and the slight sting arrowed straight to her pussy. Her quick puffs
of breath filled his mouth as she ground the pad of her sex against his
abdomen, seeking relief from the swelling ache. She cradled his scalp, tipped
his chin up farther with her thumbs and reclaimed control. She ate him up like
rich, sweet chocolate. She was greedy, gluttonous, returning to his mouth time
and time again for more of his lush, decadent flavor.

Hot blasts of air heated her lips as Xavier panted beneath
her. He lifted his head from the pillow, the tendons in his neck stretching against
his dusky skin as he reached for her, silently demanding more. She tore her
mouth from his, planted her palms on either side of his head and stared down at
him. His chest rose and fell in labored breaths. His eyes gleamed from under
lowered lids, beckoning her to feast on him again. Damn, did she want to
concede to the invitation. But first…

She straightened and once again cupped his jaw. His lashes
fluttered, but didn’t lower. When she slid her fingers over his temples and
under his head to the bound tail of hair, his eyes widened and a flicker of
panic flared in their emerald depths. A fist squeezed her heart at the spark of
anxiety, but she steeled her resolve and untied the band imprisoning his hair.
His powerful body tensed beneath her thighs and his features—lax with
contentment a moment ago—slowly stiffened as if bracing for a blow.

She massaged his scalp to reassure him he was safe with her
and spread the thick strands over the white pillowcase like a dark cape. So
beautiful. She sighed and gripped a handful of the heavy, mahogany mane, lifted
it to her nose and luxuriated in the surprisingly soft silk and clean, fresh
scent.

“Don’t,” he objected hoarsely.

Her heart twisted at the desperate fear roughening his
voice, but she forged on.

“Shhh…” she whispered soothingly and let the long hair sift
through her fingers as it drifted back down to the pillow. He studied her as
she leaned over him, his gaze intent. The stark planes of his face remained set
in rigid lines, reminding her of the contained stranger she’d confronted a week
ago…and encountered that morning.

But the man from earlier wouldn’t have allowed her to bind
him to the bed, submitting his body and control. Leaving himself vulnerable.
She’d walk away from this bed, this house, before betraying the courage it had
taken him to stretch out before her naked in body and soul.

She took his mouth in a tender kiss. At first his lips
remained unyielding, but she continued her sensual assault, nuzzling, nipping,
until with a soft moan he gave in and his lips parted underneath hers.

“I think I could kiss you forever.” The admission escaped
her before she could snatch it back. Heat, unrelated to passion, warmed her
cheeks.

“And yet you stopped.”

Her heart missed a beat and then raced to catch up.

“I’m not even close to stopping.” She trailed a damp path
down his chin and over the line of his jaw. Her lips bumped the ridge of flesh
marring his chin and his body stiffened. She brushed a caress over the mark and
ignored his low hiss of breath.

It would’ve been so easy to acquiesce to his “hands off”
body language and move on to his neck or shoulders.

But not tonight. Not when she could show him how beautiful
she found him—scars and all—without him being able to walk away or shut her
down.

The length of the scar from chin to hairline received her
devotion. Without words, she declared his loveliness. Hot blasts of breath
seared her cheek as his hoarse rasps echoed in the silent room. The tendons in
his neck stood out in sharp relief as if any moment he might throw his head
back against the pillow to evade her touch.

Yet he remained still as a statue except for his heaving
chest.

Again her heart wrenched at the sign of his obvious
agitation, but she didn’t stop.

When she moved on to his chest and abdomen, she began the
homage all over again.

By the time she returned to his mouth, his muscles had
loosened, the austere lines of his face had softened and a faint flush painted
his high cheekbones. Instead of rough inhalations, low pants rushed in and out
of his parted lips. She studied his sensual features and met his stare, glowing
with desire and something so raw, so wild she couldn’t name it…was afraid to
label it.

“I want your mouth on me,” she murmured and nuzzled the
curve of his ear, empowered, emboldened by his restraint and her passion. “Will
you make me come, Xavier? Make me cry out your name? Make me beg even though
I’m the one in control? Can you do that?”

His gaze widened in surprise before narrowing. How he could
resemble a predator while tied and imprisoned baffled her. Even more
confounding was how she could shake like the prey caught in his sights.

“Slide up for me, Gwen.” His husky command shivered down her
spine and caused more liquid to dampen her thighs. Unable to prevent the
motion, she circled her hips over his chest, the movement exerting direct
pressure on her clit. The slow grind inflamed and satisfied the pounding ache
and she groaned. “Come on, baby. I can’t give you what you need unless you
move. As much as I love seeing you explode, I’d rather have your sweet cream in
my mouth than decorating my body.”

The words and underlying hint of strained laughter urged her
forward. In moments, she had one knee beside his head and the other on the
outside of his cuffed arm.

“Grab the headboard.”

She glanced down her torso and bit back a pained cry. Though
searing desire coursed through her and weighed her eyelids, she forced her eyes
to remain open. She didn’t want to miss the erotic vision of Xavier staring up
at her from between her spread thighs, his full lips only a breath away from
grazing her aching flesh. Seconds from dipping his talented tongue into her
core and driving her to heights only he could carry her.