'Hey!' I said, but he was done almost before the word was out.
I'd never seen him so aggressive. He dragged my legs apart, ignoring the aborted jerks that signalled my desire to kick him where it counted. Long velvet straps dangled from opposite ends of the footboard and to these he secured my ankles. He laughed when I couldn't resist a tug to verify their strength.
'Feels good, doesn't it, Katie? Feels good to meet your master.'
'You wish,' I muttered, but the bindings were working their insidious magic.
I was helpless now, entirely at his mercy. Cool air drifted between my spread legs, emphasising the heat of my groin. Welling, swelling, it lapped outward in thick, feverish waves. I could not deny I wanted him or that, in some secret corner of my soul, I wanted him to overpower me.
He knew it, too, damn him.
Til take you to your limit,' he promised, in a silky growl. Til take everything you gave to Sean and more.'
'Is that what this is about? Besting Sean?'
He did not dignify my accusation with an answer. Smiling like the Mona Lisa, he stepped back and loosened his tie. My pulse jumped in my throat. Our eyes connected and held. His smile deepened as he slid the knot down. He threw the tie across the room.
I watched it hit the window, the huge, bare window. Did he intend to strip off without drawing the curtains? What if those tower blocks were close enough to see in?
'Don't.' Though he did not speak loudly, the order rang through the stately room. My gaze snapped back to his. 'Don't look away or it will go harder for you.'
I wasn't sure I believed him, but I didn't really want to look away, not when he removed his jacket and pulled his shirt-tails free. The stark white cloth quickly covered his erection. Not that it mattered. The instant I saw the stupendous bulge, the image was engraved on my retinas. His left trouser leg had trapped the fat knob, pulling the shaft off true. Such a personal thing to know, which way a man liked to hang his goods.
He undid a cuff link without breaking eye contact.
'As I recall,’ he said, 'you like to watch. That was part of the thrill, wasn't it? Seeing Sean and me take it in the arse, seeing us suck each other off or steal a little feel in the middle of fucking you.'
I squirmed on the satiny bedspread. Why waste my breath denying it? 'Are you going to talk or take off your clothes?' I said, my voice too breathy to count as flippant.
His hands rose to his collar. One button popped free, then another. Sheer black curls appeared at the base of the 'V. Button by button, he widened the alluring gap, then reached inside to massage his flat male nipples. When his hands withdrew, tiny points lifted the smooth Egyptian cotton. I remembered how he tasted there, how he felt on my palm.
His clever hands worked the last button free.
1 like to watch, too,' he said.
I didn't know why he said that. Tied up this way, I couldn't put on a show. He could, though, and did. He cupped the shirt-tails between his legs and rubbed himself through the added barrier, a roving, thorough exploration that told me - beyond a shadow of a doubt - how much he wanted touching. He kneaded the imprisoned head, a circling pinch between fingers and thumb. I knew he loved that. He used to love it when I licked him there. Was he thinking of that now? I swallowed. He was swelling even more. His hip swivelled forward. His voice turned rough.
'I like watching the way you watch my hands,' he said, 'the way a flush crawls over your cheeks, the way your hips roll a little - as though you're imagining how I'll feel inside you. You know I'll be big. You know you'll have to stretch to take me.'
I opened my mouth to catch a clear breath. He pushed the shirt-tails behind his hips and bared his glory. Its size distorted the fall of his elegant slacks, pushing out the zip, creasing the crotch.
'I'm imagining it, too,' he said. 'I remember how wet you'd get, how you'd drench me when I pushed inside you. I especially enjoyed the way you'd squeeze me with your cunt like you wanted to trap me there all night, like you wanted to milk the life out of me.' He leant over the footboard, sharing a secret. 'I hope you'll do that today, Kate.'
Fat chance, I wanted to say, but all that came out was a pitiful whimper. My nice Christian Dior trousers were halfway to drenched already. They grew more so when he shrugged each shoulder free of his shirt. I'd always thought Joe had the perfect physique, but this was ... That hair-covered wall of hard male muscle affected me so strongly, so primitively, I felt embarrassed, almost disloyal to my memory of the younger, smoother Joe.
Heavens, he was gorgeous - a Greek statue in warm, living flesh. I wanted to touch him, to rub myself all over him like a cat marking its owner.