“I’m going to hold you to that, Red,” he tells me in a dangerous voice.
He carries me inside of the Penthouse, not setting me down until we reach the large, circular couch in the middle of the room—a brown leather sectional where the parts have been slid together to make one round surface. Scooting myself back, I look around, trying to become better acquainted with where I’ll be staying for the next 36 hours.
There’s a neutral color scheme going on in here—rich shades of brown and tan. Directly across from the couch is a bar with a gleaming granite counter top, and to the left of me, French doors lead to what I assume is the bedroom. To my right is a Steinway piano, and memories of the night in Nashville when he bent me over the same model claws its way into my thoughts.
“Why does this feel familiar?” I tease.
“Because it’s supposed to be.” Taking my hands in his, he pulls me up until I’m sitting on my knees and our bodies are rubbing together. “You’re going to play for me, Sienna.”
“And if I say no?”
Pinning my arms over my head, he covers my mouth with his, kissing me hard, rough and fast until I can no longer breathe. I stumble back against the cushions once he lets my arms go, but he shakes his head. “Turn around.”
I could argue with him. I could ask him why just to see what inventive punishment he’ll come up with this time, but I don’t. Keeping my eyes trained on his, I comply, climbing around on my knees until the front of my body is touching the backrest of the couch.
“Do you know what I realized?” His fingertips slip beneath the soft cotton of my shirt, and I hold my breath as he urges me to raise my arms so he can draw it over my head. “I was wrong about the bus.”
I look back at him. “What?”
“I can’t touch you like I want. Can’t drive you crazy every time you grind those damn teeth of yours.” He spins his fingers in a circular motion, and I turn back around to face the floor to ceiling windows that extend along the entire back wall of our suite. “I’m going to spend this entire fucking day inside of you, tasting you, touching you. Do you understand?”
I nod, gasping a moment later when he unhooks my bra with one well-maneuvered motion of his fingers. “If you rip another bra, I’ll have your—”
“God, you talk to much.” When he comes up behind me on the couch, I slide forward until my breasts are pushed flat against the cushions. He drapes my bra—which is still completely intact—over the back of the couch. “See, no rips.”
He pushes my hair away from the nape of my neck and runs his nose along the sensitive area between my shoulder blades. “You smell so good—so right. Did you know that?” When I make a movement with my head that’s neither acknowledgment nor denial, he chuckles against my skin. “I’m going to finish undressing you now.”
“Yes, please.”
As he removes the rest of my clothes, his touch varies. He’s gentle when he unfastens my shorts, his fingertips careful and soft as they run along the inside of my thigh, but then when he reaches my panties, he’s rough. He rips them into two uneven pieces as soon as his thumb makes contact with the wetness in the center.
By the time I’m naked, gripping the back of the couch hard, I’m trembling. He slides off of the couch, and when I try to see what he’s doing, he gives me a rough slap on my ass.
“Turn around, Sienna.”
Sinking my teeth into my lip, I whip my head back around, staring out the window as the first drops of sunrise splash across the sky. He rummages through his luggage for a few minutes, and when I hear him zip everything closed, my body shivers in anticipation.
A moment later, when he returns he’s naked. He drops something on the couch and touches my shoulders. His hands trails down my arms until he reaches my wrists and has brought my hands together behind my back
I wait for him to bind my hands together.
Then he surprises me.
Releasing my wrists, he grabs whatever it is he brought back to the couch. When he touches me again, cold leather wraps around my right thigh. I glance down my body just in time to see him hook the cuff, using the metal clasp found on the inside of my thigh to stretch it taut across my skin.
“What is this?” I gasp, as he does the same thing to my left leg.
“These,” he starts, taking my right wrist and placing it against the side of my thigh, “are bondage cuffs.” To demonstrate, he unhooks a separate, smaller cuff that’s attached to the outside of the leather that’s attached to my leg. I try to slow my erratic breathing as he tightens it around my wrist and secures it. “Because you couldn’t keep those hands of yours out of my fucking hair the last time I had you to myself.”
I give his leather contraption a test as soon as he’s secured my left wrist, and sure enough, I can’t move my arms.
A heavy wave of desire rolls through me, and when I drop my head forward against the back of the couch, he gives my ass another tap.
“Stand up,” he orders, moving away from me.
Carefully, I slide backwards. When I nearly lose my footing getting off the couch, he reaches out and grabs me. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Turn around.”
I turn compliantly. Massaging his thumb across my high cheekbone, he cups my breast with his other hand, rubbing my sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger until my breasts are tight and heavy. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“So are you,” I whisper, gaining a tiny smile from him and he kisses my forehead. When he leans back, he stares at me sternly.
“First, I’m going to taste that sweet * of yours. I’m going to lick, and taste, and fuck you with my tongue until you’re screaming.”
I squeeze my thighs tightly together. “And after that?”
His lips move into a wicked smile that shakes me to my core. “And after, I want you everywhere, every way.” The emphasis he puts on those last two words makes me gulp.
“Every way,” I repeat, and he paces around me in a slow circle, giving my ass a little squeeze as he does so.
“I’m your first,” he says, and it’s more a statement than a question. Of course, he is. Before him, I would have never let the thought cross my mind.
But now . . .
“Yes,” I reply breathlessly.
“Good.” As he comes around in front of me, running his hand along my flat stomach, he gives me a serious look. “You have to tell me it’s what you want. No matter what you decide, I want to hear it from you.”
This is similar to the game he played in February. He had seduced me to the point of distraction and the only way he would make love to me was for me to beg him to. Back then, I had waited too long, played too hard, and I’m not in the mood for any of those games today.
I keep my eyes on his, too shaken to risk a glance at his cock—if I do, I’ll never have the nerve to go through with this. “I want you to fuck me everywhere,” I whisper.
He runs his tongue over his straight teeth. “Hearing you say that makes me want to start right here.”
“Then you should follow through.”
He shakes his head as he kneels in front of me, running his hands down the outsides of my legs until he reaches my ankles and then up the insides. When he comes to the leather strapped to my thighs, he nudges my legs apart. Wider and wider—so far that I have to arch against him to hold myself upright.
Without warning, two of his long fingers delve inside of me, testing my wetness. He pushes them in and out, not stopping until I’m shaking and my long red hair is falling over both of our faces.
“Please,” I cry out, and he turns his face to kiss the soft flesh between my legs. “Please, Lucas.”
He touches my clit, working it back and forth the two fingers that were just inside me. “You’ve never been this wet.”