“I can’t figure out how to do this,” Chase said, and Vi stopped with her key in the lock and looked over her shoulder.
“It’s your first time?” she said blankly. That was…extremely unexpected. But…kind of…wow, that would be kind of…
Chase gave her an incredulous look. “No.”
Oh. Yeah. Probably just as well that was a very short-lived fantasy.
“But it’s my first time with you,” Chase said. “And you’ve got me—so—” He made a gesture as if his head was exploding. “If you tie me up, how am I going to be able to touch you to make sure you have fun? And if you don’t, how the hell am I supposed to not rip your clothes off?”
“They’re leather,” Vi said and opened the door.
“Gnaw them off with my teeth then,” Chase said and, that fast, turned her back against her own door and pushed it closed. He looked like a hunter who had just sprung a trap on an unwary young wolf. Amused and delighted with himself and very, very predatory. He dropped down to a knee, his hands bracing to either side of her hips, still pinning her to the door. “Maybe I’ll start the gnawing—right—here.” He leaned in and pressed his mouth straight to her leather-covered crotch.
Vi made a startled sound and jumped, clutching at the door frame behind her.
“Shh,” Chase murmured, his lips moving against the leather. “It will take me a while to gnaw through this. Just relax.”
“Oh, my God.” So much hot arousal fogged through her she couldn’t see through the red and gold clouds. Oh, God. She pressed her head back hard against the door.
Chase closed strong hands around her thighs and pushed them wider, bracing her. And bit her, right between her legs. A gnawing leather-veiled pressure against the lips of her sex, and she dissolved, slickening her panties.
“Leather and you, wet,” he said and pressed his face straight between her thighs and nuzzled there. “Christ, they should make a perfume.” He nibbled again.
Vi whimpered, trying to crawl backwards up the door.
He tightened his grip on her thighs. “Hold still, honey. You challenged me, now take your throw.” Those teeth, against her leather. “There are worse ways to lose, don’t you think?”
Oh, God. She clutched his head, then grabbed the frame again, bucking as she twisted toward and away from what he was doing all at once. Her brain was lost somewhere. Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be in her power up here? She was supposed to be smiling wickedly right about now, reaching ever so slowly for the zip on her jacket, lowering it a centimeter at a time as he finally, finally, lost control of that glib tongue of his and just stared.
“It might take me a while to work my way through all this leather this way,” Chase said as he took a long, slow bite of it—and of her with it. “Maybe you could tell me more about what panties you’re wearing under it? Give me some motivation?”
He had not even been conceivable as a person who existed when she put on her panties that morning. She couldn’t even remember. “Black lace,” she said randomly, writhing against the door. That seemed like something that would keep him motivated. “At least—in front. In back there’s not much at all. “
“Yeah?” He loosed one of her thighs to run his one finger down the seam of her pants and up, up the cleft of her butt, where a thong would go, under that leather. She writhed, pressing herself against that finger. “Now that’s a nice goal, right there. The thought of you on your hands and knees on your bed, with nothing but a thong on and me standing right behind you. How we doing on this leather, baby? Am I getting through?”
“No,” she said. “Yes. No. Not enough.”
“Well.” He sat back on his heels and cocked his head up at her. “You have your hands free. You could help.”
She stared down at him—that wicked humor in his eyes, but all that hunger, too. More and more hunger. It made him look…dangerous. Like a man with well over twice her strength, who knew exactly how to use that strength against far bigger and more lethal enemies than a knife-throwing chef.
“I should have known you couldn’t handle me on your own,” she said.
His face just lit in this wicked, wanton way, like a hellion who’d finally broken out of a monastery. “Oh, honey, you like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she admitted, on the giddy rush of that danger as he slid his grip of her thighs up to the uppermost possible point, his thumbs sliding deep between her legs to pinch folds of leather and her up to his mouth. His elbows came into play, forcing her legs to stay spread.