I sit up, pulling out of his arms, and then I move down the bed. He tries to follow, but I reach out and push him back down. I pull the sheet away from his body, exposing him in all his glory. In the early morning light, he looks soft and vulnerable, but I know when I touch him I’ll find hard muscle beneath my hand.
I let my fingers drift across his stomach, down the trail of dark hair leading toward my true goal. When I reach his arousal, I slide my fingers up and down the hard length. He gives a soft groan and makes no move to stop me.
Leaning forward, I part my lips. My tongue flicks across the tip of his cock. In all of our sexual encounters, I’ve never had the chance to taste him. Now I find myself eager to know him in this way too, if only this once.
I bend closer, sliding my tongue down his entire length and back up again. When I return to the tip, I spread my lips and take the end of him in my mouth.
Calder moans. I smile and get to work, taking him deeper in my mouth, sliding my tongue along the bottom of his shaft. My hand grips the base of him as my lips move. I love the taste of him. It’s familiar—this clean, earthy flavor of his skin—only it’s muskier and saltier down here.
He’s moving now, shifting on the bed as I work him with my mouth. His hands fly up and tangle in my hair, holding me against him.
“Lily,” he moans, lifting his hips.
I continue my attention to his cock as he digs his fingers into my scalp. His reaction excites me. I want to touch myself, but I refuse to divide my attention from the task at hand.
Calder’s losing control. I can tell by the way his body writhes, by the way his hands twist and tighten in my hair, by the sounds he’s trying—and failing—to strangle. But I want to make this last. I draw him slowly from my mouth, leaving the tip just within reach of my lips. He raises his hips, but I pull back.
“Impatient, aren’t we, Mr. Cunningham?”
I slide my tongue across him, circling him once, twice.
He moans again. “You filthy little tease.”
I spare a glance up at him. His eyes are closed, his head thrown back on the pillow. His jaw is clenched so tight than I’m surprised he hasn’t cracked any teeth. The sight of him so close to the edge sends my desire into overdrive.
I lean down and give him another gentle flick with my tongue. It’s the final straw for him. He shoots up, nearly knocking me off the bed, and stares down at me with wild eyes. His hands are still in my hair, my face still near his hard length. For a breathless moment I think he’s going to force me down on him again, but instead he releases me.
“On your back,” he growls. “Now.”
I don’t have the will to resist that tone, even if I wanted to. I crawl up the bed and roll back onto the pillows. He climbs up after me, looming over me, and I can’t breathe anymore. I need to feel his weight on me, need to feel his naked, heated flesh against my own. My entire body aches for it.
I reach up and let my fingers skim across his collarbone. He catches me by the wrists before I can pull him down on me.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice husky. He holds my wrists in one hand and reaches out with the other, down beside the bed. The shirt I discarded last night is still on the floor, and he grabs it and twists it up like a rope.
I like where this is going.
He yanks my wrists over my head and proceeds to tie them to the nearest bedpost. The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable.
“Are you going to punish me for waking you up?” I ask him playfully.
He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy focusing on the knots he’s tying. I wriggle a little, playing along, and it’s clear he knowse grinds against me“I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing,” I say.
Still he says nothing. But he sits back, finished with my wrists, and stares down at my naked body. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded. He looks like he’s about to devour me. His hand reaches out, touches me lightly on the stomach. I shiver beneath that caress. His fingers dance across my skin, tracing my belly, the swell of my hip, the curve of my thigh. His hand floats inward, nudges my thighs apart. I’m already wet—soaking.
He leans down, moving his face between my legs. His hot breath rushes over me, and goose bumps ripple across my skin. I shift my hips, echoing his own impatient movements from a minute ago, but his hands press down on my thighs and he holds me against the bed.
I nudge him with my knee. “Now who’s the tease?”
He leans down again, closer this time, and a whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it. I want him to taste me, as I tasted him.
But he’s withdrawing again, and this time he’s looking down at me with amusement in his eyes.
“We agreed that we wouldn’t have sex,” he says, straightening.
I blink at him. What?
“I think we’re past that,” I say. “Besides, this isn’t sex.” Okay, maybe I was hoping it would lead to sex, but that’s different.
“Oral sex? It has ‘sex’ in the name.”
I blink. “Are you really going to argue about this right now?”
“You’re the one who wanted to continue our little game,” he replies. “Shouldn’t the same rules apply?”
I don’t believe this. I don’t fucking believe this. “You tied me to the bed!”
“To keep you from trying anything else. I wasn’t expecting a sneak attack while I was still half-asleep.”
“You seemed to enjoy it well enough.”
“I’m a man, after all,” he says, leaning close and catching me beneath the chin. “And you, my dear, sweet Lily, are quite an enticing woman. And quite the handful, if I’m being honest.”
His face is only a few inches away from mine.
“What are you going to do about it?” I breathe.
He smiles and straightens once more. “I’m going to get dressed.”
“What?”
But he doesn’t answer. He turns and walks back to the bathroom to retrieve the clothes he left there last night.
“What the hell, Calder!” I say, struggling against my bonds.
My annoyance doesn’t seem to bother him. He returns a moment later, his pants already on and his shirt in his hand. He slips it over his shoulders as I watch.
“This is just a sick joke, isn’t it?” I say. “Another one of your lessons?”
Calder is now fully clothed. He sits down on the bed, looking down at me with that smug smile of his. If I could move, I’d slap it right off, but I guess he was thinking ahead.