Dreaming Double (NightDreamz 3)
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Copyright ©2014 Marie Treanor
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When he pulled the last knot tight, Georgia panicked.
No wonder. Totally naked, she lay spread-eagled in a star shape, hands tied to the posts at the head of the bed, ankles secured by longer bonds to the posts at the foot. He'd used her own soft, silk scarves but they might as well have been police handcuffs; she'd have been no less helpless.
And when he slid down her body to kneel between her spread legs, admiring his captive, she tugged futilely at her bonds, for she finally recognized the glint in his dark, secretive eyes as danger.
Fool that she was, why did she let herself be drawn to men like this? Hard men, exciting men, rough men... Normally, she took the time to know them, to be sure they weren't the kind of violent bastards who hurt women. She'd had more than enough of that already in her life. But this guy, this stranger who'd turned up at the theater and given her flowers with very few words except an offer to buy her coffee -- his mere presence had excited her more than she could ever remember.
Something in the poise of his lean, fit body, in the watchful hardness of his dark brown eyes, made her want to melt him. More than that, she'd wanted to be melted and taken, and so she'd ignored her own rules and brought him home on the first night.
And God he'd been good, skilled and urgent and sweet, so beguiling that she'd forgotten her other rule and given in to her desire to be tied. To be tied by him.
Only now, when it was too late, did she recognize the hardness in his eyes as potential violence. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do to protect herself.
"Untie me," she whispered.
His lips curved into a smile, his eyes fixed still on her breasts as he answered, "I've only just tied you. And Christ, you're even more beautiful like this."
She jerked her arms and legs with all her strength, and at last his gaze flew up her helpless body to her eyes.
"Hey." He reached over her, closing one hand around her left wrist. "You'll hurt yourself."
"I don't want this," she whispered. "I don't."
His unreadable, stranger's eyes searched hers, as if wondering if this was part of the game. Oh shit, that would be his excuse to ignore her demand, her plea...
"All right." He moved, reaching both hands to her left wrist. Relief flooded her. He wasn't going to hurt her...
Of course, he wasn't the kind of scum to hurt a woman. He was just a handsome, exciting man with a few kinks in his physical desires. Like hers. His smooth, hard chest pressed into her, the muscles of his shoulder rippled as he moved his hands, loosening the knot which she'd only tightened with her panicked tugging.
And as her fear receded, lust galloped back to replace it.
Lower down, her gaze skimmed the curve of his hip and buttock, his thickly corded thighs. Her breath hitched; the blood began to sing in her ears again. Damn, but he had a beautiful body, and he knew exactly what to do with it...
She tipped her head back into the pillow, watching the concentration of his handsome face. Without meaning to she wriggled under him, heard the catch of his breath.
"Don't do that, or I'll end up fucking you before I've untied you."
Coarse words didn't do much for her as a rule -- except on his lips they sounded both natural and weirdly arousing. His long, thick erection nudged against her hip. Hot desire coiled through her stomach, pooled damply between her legs. His weight, his gorgeous, naked body, his willingness to release her, all got jumbled up with her initial attraction and pure, devastating lust.
"Oh to hell with it," she whispered. "Do it."
He frowned, maybe at the knot. Certainly his fingers didn't still. "Do what?"
"Fuck me before you untie me." Oh God, yes, there was that glint again, wild and thrilling. His hands stilled but didn't leave the binding scarf.
Slowly, his turbulent gaze moved to hers. "Nothing would please me more. If you actually want it."
"Of course I want it. I just panicked..."
He lowered his arms, easing down her body so that his chest rubbed against her aching nipples. "Well," he said, slipping lower, exposing one breast to his eyes, to his finger which began to trace circles around it. "I will fuck you. Eventually. Probably. But first, I want you to be screaming for me."
Her heart lurched again, reminding her of the panic she'd only just quenched in lust. But he didn't mean that kind of screaming. He was sliding down her helpless body, dragging arousing, open mouthed kisses down her stomach until he paused between her spread thighs.
Georgia whimpered. He smiled, greedily, fastened his lips to her lower ones and set about making her scream...