“Jesus, Lina,” he said.
I just smiled, thoroughly enjoying myself as I flipped it to him, satisfied when he caught it and held it tight in his hand. I rubbed my own hands over my breasts, then closed my eyes and gently gave my nipples a tug as I imagined it was Evan’s hands upon me, not mine. A sizzling cord of desire shot from my breasts down to my cunt, now hot and wet with desire.
I heard a moan and knew it came from me. I’d intended to get him all worked up—to turn the tables and hold control in my hands. Yet here I was, desperate for his touch. So hot I would probably come if he just leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
So much for my grand plan.
Then again, I had no complaints about the way this was working out. He looked just as desperate as I felt, and with a smug smile of satisfaction, I moved on to my jeans, slowly working open the fly, one button at a time. They were skinny jeans, and since I wasn’t actually skinny, I have to do a serious shimmy to get out of them, and I took the opportunity to put on a little show for Evan’s benefit.
I was already in bare feet, and I finally worked the jeans all the way down and toed them off, then stood in front of him in just my thong—a particularly sexy pair as I’d started paying attention to my undies since Evan had come into my life—and my bed.
I met and held his eyes, then slid my finger under the thong’s band and started to tug the panties down.
“No,” he said, his firm word halting my hand. “That’s for me.” He moved closer, the air between us humming as it always did when we were together. “Arms up,” he said, “and stand here.”
I complied, and he let out a low, slow whisper. “Good god, Lina. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
“I only care about how beautiful I am to you.”
“Very,” he said. “Exceptionally.” He bent over to tug something from his briefcase, and when he stood, I saw that it was a strand of rope. He fastened it around my wrists, then wrapped that around the finial above me. “I’m not binding your legs,” he said. “But I expect you to keep your feet where I tell you.”
I nod. “All right.”
“Wider,” he said, and I spread my legs wider. “Beautiful.” He slid his hand down my pubic bone, gliding over the scrap of material that was now my only piece of clothing.
“Keep your feet where they are,” he ordered. “Don’t move until I tell you to.”
I nodded, then closed my eyes as he stepped closer, his fingers stroking my body. Teasing me with light caresses. Playing with my breasts, with my lips, with my fingers. And then stroking my inner thighs, the sensation so wildly sensual that I had no choice but to squirm—and had to force myself not to let my feet move.
“Turn around,” he said, and I complied. “Keep your eyes open. I want you to look at the city while I touch you. I want you to see just how high we are as I make you soar.” He pressed up behind me, and though he was still in slacks, I could feel his erection against my lower back. Then his hand stroking down—and then the violent rip as he yanked the panties off me.
My immediate reaction was to draw my arms down and cover myself, but I couldn’t. I was tied to the finial. Naked and bound, with Evan behind me, whispering in my ear. “Do you know what this is about?” he said. “Why I want you like this? What I want to do and why I want to do it?”
“I—tell me.”