You Are Mine (26 page)

The physical feelings were almost overwhelming.

Fabric rustled as she heard Zac get to his feet. Then her arms were being raised above her head as she was eased against the back of the chair. He must have fastened her wrists to a hook or something embedded in the chair back, because when she pulled at them, she couldn't get free.

“What are you doing?” Fear had begun to turn inside her, but twining with it was that newly awakened excitement and curiosity. The part that was finding all of this intensely thrilling.

He didn't speak, the room silent.

One of his mind-fucks probably. Her breath caught and she stilled, her senses searching for him, the sound of him, the scent of him. The air moved a little near her cheek and she turned her head. “Zac.”

A warm hand slid under one of her thighs, the opposite side from where she looked, lifting it up and over the arm of the chair. She tensed, blinking behind the blindfold. Something that felt like a thick, silky rope was wrapped around her ankle and then her ankle was pulled taut gently. She tested it. Found she couldn't move her leg.

She tried to still her breathing, but when she felt his hands on her other leg, the smooth rope wrapping around the other ankle, it started to slide out of her control.

Jesus. She was sitting naked on the chair, with her wrists bound and her legs tied apart.

“Zac?” Her voice had frayed even more, his name sounding uncertain.

“The restraints should add to your pleasure, angel.” The dark heat of his voice came from in front of her. “They'll also stop you from controlling it or trying to escape it.”

She pulled against the ropes that held her, testing them again, but they were tight. She couldn't move.

Helpless. She was helpless.

No, it's okay. You're with him.

Fear and excitement warred for supremacy. Every sense she had seemed to be attuned to the man standing in front of her and what he would do next. What he would say.

Another shiver wracked her body.

“Well, well, well,” Zac murmured. “What have we here?” Her body jerked as his hands came down on her inner thighs, the touch an instant electric shock. “One beautiful, wet pussy, and all for me.”

Reflexively she tried to pull her legs together but all that happened was her ankles tugging against the ropes that bound them.

He felt close. Extremely close.

“You remember your word, don't you, Eva?” His thumbs stroked over the soft, excruciatingly sensitive skin of her inner thighs. “Because I'm not going to go easy on you. I'm going to eat my fill of you, make you scream. But you're not going to get your orgasm until you beg for it. Are we clear?”

The ringing in her ears increased, her breathing rocketed out of control. She shifted in the chair, unable to help herself. Restless and afraid and full of a kind of heat she couldn't seem to contain.

“Yes,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Good. Now … Where were we? Ah yes…” A hand moved from her thigh to her breast, cupping it. Then wet heat engulfed her nipple as his mouth closed over it.

It was like he'd taken a match to her, setting her on fire.

Eva arched in the chair, the fabric pulling tight around her wrists as a ragged cry escaped her, pleasure sharp as the blade of a sword cutting her in two.

He sucked hard on her nipple, increasing the intensity of the feeling. Then he bit her. The cry became a fractured scream as a fine edge of pain threaded through the pleasure, heightening it somehow. Light burst behind her eyes. His tongue licked a hot circle around her nipple before he drew it back into his mouth, increasing the suction.

She panted, unable to pull away or escape the intensity of the feeling, trembling all over.

Then his other hand covered her sex.

Another blast of sensation detonated as his thumb began to move in a tight, hard circle around her clit while he ran one finger down through her wet folds to the entrance of her body, pushing inside.

Her hips jerked and her back arched. She couldn't stop from screaming again. Her pleasures had been simple ones for so long—warmth, food, shelter—that she couldn't deal with the razor-edged physical pleasure that flooded through her now.

It was too much. It was like agony.

“No…” She arched again, vainly trying to move away from the ravenous mouth on her breast. “I c-can't…”

But he only transferred his attentions to her other breast, his thumb still moving on her clit, his finger now sliding deep inside her.

She began to shake, a blind terror overtaking her. A primal kind of fear she didn't quite understand. Her body twisted, trying to escape. “Z-Zac … no…”

He ignored her, the hand between her legs slowing down, each movement becoming a small, precise agony.

She wasn't going to be able to stand this. She couldn't. Which meant all she had to do was say the word and it would stop. He would take all these frightening sensations away and it would be over.

No. Fucking. Way.

She went still, shaking so hard she felt like she was going to break apart.

No. She wasn't going to say that word. She didn't need it. What she needed was this. This pleasure. Him. And her fucking orgasm.

Zac's hands fell away from her, his tongue licking a trail all the way down between her breasts, over her trembling stomach, down further still. Then she felt his fingers spreading the folds of her sex, opening her up. And his tongue was pushing deep and hard into her.

Eva screamed then screamed again as his finger circled her clit, around and around.

He was relentless. One hand slid beneath her buttocks, lifting her, his massive shoulders pressing against her inner thighs, spreading her even wider. Then he began to lick her like ice cream with the flat of his tongue, the change in sensation winding the tension inside her even tighter.

“Please…” Her voice was only a thin thread of sound. “Oh God, please…”

He pulled away, and the loss of his mouth and his hands was yet another agony. “What do you want?” The words were deep and raw, full of heat and darkness. “Tell me what you want.”

She writhed in the chair, pulling against the ties on her wrist and ankles unable to help herself. But nothing was going to relieve the ache. Nothing except him. “I want … my f-fucking orgasm. Now. Right fucking now!”

A finger slid inside her and she gasped, her back bowing against the chair, her hips jerking. “Since when do you get to make demands?” Another finger slid deep, stretching her. “I'm the one who owns you, angel. I'm the one who gets to decide when you come. And you haven't earned it yet.” A shift between her thighs, heat against her skin. His mouth brushing against her stomach. “Besides, I haven't finished playing with this perfect little pussy of yours yet. You kept it away from me for too long and now I want what's mine.”

The wet heat of his tongue traced a lazy circle around her clit, his fingers sliding out of her, then in again, matching the movement.

Eva moaned helplessly, every nerve ending she had stretched to breaking point.

And he kept licking her, kept up the slow movement of his fingers, holding the release she knew was there just out of her reach.

The world began to recede, began to narrow to the agonizing brush of his tongue and the feel of his fingers. To the sharp, desperate ache that was becoming more and more unbearable by the second.

There was no future, no past. There was only this. Only this ache. Only him.

She began to sob because the immensity of her hunger was frightening and she'd lost the capacity to pretend otherwise. Reduced to a creature governed purely by need. No fear, no pain. Only want.

It was such a relief she never wanted it to end.

But his body shifted again, his free hand reaching into her hair, his fingers twining in it, her head being pulled back. His mouth covering hers.

Then the hand between her thighs moved, his thumb brushing lightly over her clit.

And the world exploded behind her eyes.

She screamed into his mouth, lit up like a torch. Flames leaping in the darkness behind the blindfold. Burning and burning and burning, yet never consumed.

His withdrawal from her was as big a shock as his first touch had been.

One moment his mouth was on hers and she was riding out the effects of the orgasm like a surfer on a tidal wave. The next he was gone.

Tremors shook her body. She was floating in the blackness, a feather in the void. Waiting for whatever would happen next, knowing it would come and yet not being concerned. Not being afraid.

Free.

Sounds filtered through the drumming beat of her heart. Foil crackling, a zipper being undone. She knew those sounds, knew what they meant. But she wasn't afraid, or at least, the tight feeling inside her didn't feel like fear. It felt like hunger and satisfaction, tension and looseness all at the same time.

The chair dipped, Zac's palms on her butt, lifting her as his hard thighs slid beneath hers. The ties on her ankles pulled tight and she took a sharp breath.

He wasn't naked, she could feel the wool of his suit pants against her bare skin, but there was so much heat coming from him he may as well have been. It surrounded her, along with his woodsmoke-and-cedar scent, a scent that now had a darker, musky edge to it.

Her whole body shivered as she realized he must be kneeling on the chair facing her with her in his lap.

A hand stroked her stomach, then moved down between her thighs, and she gasped aloud as his fingers slipped inside her. She was still so achingly sensitive, the sensation almost excruciating. “Zac … God…”

But he didn't relent, his hand moving, sliding his fingers in and out so she began to pant and shift and moan all over again.

Then his hand was gone and he was spreading her open. She felt the blunt head of his cock against her entrance. Christ, so hot. She shivered again, her body going still, waiting.

But he didn't move. She could feel him right
there,
so close, so goddamn close.

“Beg me,” he whispered, the seductive heat of his voice like the brush of flame. “Beg me to fuck you.” And she shuddered as she felt his fingers curve around her throat, his palm against her frantically beating pulse. A firm, possessive, intensely erotic hold. “Beg for my cock, angel. Do it now.”

Her voice wouldn't work, her mouth so dry. She had to force the sounds out. “Please … oh … please…”

“More, Eva.” His hips moved and she felt the press of him a little firmer, a tease.

The last man who'd been inside her had been Him, and in the dark nights after she'd escaped, she'd told herself she'd never let anyone take her like that again, not blindfolded and bound and helpless, unable to do a thing to stop it.

And yet here she was. Blindfolded. Bound. Helpless.

There's a difference.

Of course there was. This time it was Zac, and she wanted him. He wasn't treating her like a doll. Like a victim. He had his hand around her throat and his cock right
there.
And that voice of his that was like a caress or a whip depending on how he used it, was demanding. Making no allowances for her past.

He believed in her strength. It was time she did too.

“Fuck me, you bastard,” she whispered. “And do it hard. When I remember the last man inside me, I want that man to be you.”

There was a silence, and she was achingly aware of his hand, the heat of his palm on her skin. The warmth of his breath near her ear.

Then he moved, thrusting deep and hard inside of her.

Eva couldn't stop the cry that escaped her because he was big and it had been a long time. Her body struggled to adjust, sensitive flesh stretching, overloading already raw nerve endings.

“Keep still,” he said harshly, his hand around her throat firm.

“I can't … Zac…” Her hips bucked as he thrust harder, deeper, fighting to do as he said. “Oh God…”

His hand settled on her hip, holding her down as he leaned forward, pressing her back against the chair. Slamming into her.

“I waited for you…” He nipped her ear. “So fucking long.” His breathing was fast against her neck, each thrust of his hips winding the desperate need inside of her tighter and tighter. “Seven years, Eva. Seven fucking years you kept this pussy from me.” His hand shifted from her hip, down between her thighs, stroking her hot, wet flesh. “It's mine now. Understand? Mine.”

She arched against the chair again, crying out as the thrust of his cock and the relentless touch of his fingers began to shatter her. As she felt herself respond helplessly to the possessiveness in his voice.

“There will be no one else for you, Eva King. Only me.” Another hard thrust, all the feelings rioting inside her making her sob. “I will be the only one you'll ever think about again.”

She couldn't hold out in the end.

He overwhelmed her.

He moved faster, harder, crushing her against the chair with each powerful thrust of his hips, his fingers on her clit heightening everything so much she thought she'd shatter like a windowpane under the pressure of too much snow.

Right before the end, before she did, indeed, shatter into a thousand million pieces, he whispered, harsh and raw. “Seven years I waited for you, angel. And you were worth every second.”

*   *   *

The orgasm took him like a club to the back of the head, and he had to wait for long moments afterwards, his face buried in her hair, just to be able to move.

She smelled musky and sweet, of sex and vanilla, the sound of her ragged breathing loud in his ear. And he could feel her shuddering, the aftershocks still going through her.

He'd taken her hard, he knew that. He'd been demanding, making absolutely no allowances for her and what she'd been through.

And she'd met him with that strength he knew had been inside her all along.

She was amazing.