And I needed more.
With my hand free, I urgently pushed his jacket over his shoulder and down his arm. Then I tugged at the empty sleeve until he let go of me long enough to finish taking it off. Now I had both hands free, and I stroked them up and down his torso, clawing at his chest through his shirt, frantically, wanting it gone, wanting to be able to scratch at his skin.
But Donovan was in control, and he had a free hand too, which he used to plunge inside my dress, inside my bra, and clutch my breast. It was painful, and I groaned into his mouth as he squeezed harder. Harder still.
Then he let go, and as soon as he did, pleasure vibrated straight down to my pussy.
“Oh my god,” I gasped. “Do it again.”
“No,” he said, pulling his hand from the cup of my bra and moving it lower to play with my belt sash.
He was an asshole even now.
It was such a turn-on.
Releasing his other hand from my hair, Donovan pulled the tie at my waist, and my dress fell open. He pushed it off my shoulders and took a step backward so that he could see my whole body.
I felt a blush run down my skin; his gaze was the sun and everywhere his eyes touched I got burned.
“Were you thinking of him when you put this on tonight?” His breaths were quick, his gaze feral. He was rabid and ready to bite.
I told him the truth anyway. “I was thinking of you.”
He practically groaned. Pressing in closer, he cupped my pussy. “You’re so wet, I can feel it through your panties.”
“Donovan...” I begged, bucking into his hand. This was torture. I’d wanted him to touch me, but I needed him to touch me in every way. I needed him to never stop.
Unexpectedly, he slapped my pussy. Hard. Then he slipped a finger inside the crotch of my underwear, gathered some of my wetness, and brought it to his nose and sniffed. “Just like I remember,” he said before licking his finger clean.
I couldn’t take it anymore—I lunged for him. Wrapping one hand around his neck, I brought his mouth down so I could kiss him while I rubbed my other palm along the outline of his dick. I could taste myself on him, and I wanted to devour every last drop.
He let me kiss him like this for a minute. Then abruptly he captured my hands again and drew them up against the wall above my head.
“You’re dangerous with your hands free,” he said then bit along my collarbone, marking me.
“Dangerous how?” I moaned as his teeth sunk into my skin, but if he hadn’t been biting me, I might have laughed. Me? Dangerous? He was the one who wore that warning in my book.
“Dangerous like you always are when I let you touch me.” He kissed me deeply, distracting me from the topic.
By the time he pulled away, I was dizzy and desperate for what words couldn’t provide. My eyes flicked to my room and back to him.
“I know,” he said, reading my mind. He circled one large palm around my wrists and tugged me into the bedroom where he tossed me onto my bed.
The light was off, but the blinds were drawn and the outside light spilled in across his torso. His dress shirt stretched tautly over his muscles, and though I wanted to see them in the flesh, I also loved the way it felt to be nearly naked while he was still dressed. It made the whole thing dirtier. Kinkier.
Especially when he ordered me around like he had a right to tell me what to do. Like he was still my teacher. Like he was my boss.
“Get naked for me,” he commanded, loosening his tie.
Goose bumps spread along my arms and stomach. My hands trembled as I reached behind me to undo my bra. I threw it off the bed then scrambled out of my underwear.
He watched me as I did, his eyes dark slits. “Give me your hands.”
I held them out to him, palms up, not sure what to expect. His authoritative tone along with the not knowing had my breaths coming double time, and I was pretty sure there was already a wet spot underneath me.
Looping the tie around my wrists, he tied a knot and pulled my arms until they were lying flat on the bed above my head. Then he looped the remainder of the tie around the corner bedpost and positioned my body so that I was stretched diagonally across the mattress.
He stood back and examined his captive. “How many men have you been with like this, Sabrina?” he asked, as he began undoing his belt.
“I’ve been with five men besides you.” My number felt large, even when I was sure that Donovan had likely had plenty more lovers than I’d had. “But I’ve never been with anyone like this.”
His eyes flared. “Never been tied to the bed before?”
“No.” I’d never been so thrilled I nearly came without being touched before either.
And it was more than that. Except for that one time in a small office at Harvard, I’d never been with a man who made me feel so completely turned on, as though every single one of my arousal buttons had been hit and not just one or two.
And now his belt was off and his cock was out, hard and thick and purple in the moonlight. I tried to sit up, wanting it in my mouth. Wanting to taste him the same way he’d tasted me.
But Donovan put his hands on my thighs, and with the bindings on my wrists, I couldn’t move very far. I definitely couldn’t get to him. It felt like all the years of yearning for him were compounded in this one moment and the torment was nearly unbearable.
I wriggled and pled. “Please, Donovan!”
“What?” He knew exactly what. There was even a hint of a laugh, as though he found my misery amusing.
“You’re cruel.”
“So you’ve said.” With a smile, he flipped me over so I was on my stomach and propped me on my knees. Then he stroked his hand down my back, pressing my head down. I peered back at him through my legs and saw him put one knee on the bed next to me, the other foot he left on the floor.
I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and watched as the foil fell to the floor. Again he ran his hand along my spine. This time when he reached my ass, he gave it a firm slap that made me jump. When I relaxed again, he was waiting with his cock to slam inside me.
“Fuck!” I cried into the pillow. Or I meant to, but it came out as some strangled sound I didn’t recognize.
The feeling, though—now that, I recognized. Donovan filled me so uniquely. Like no one else ever had, completely and totally, but it was also how he filled me that made my pussy crave him, how he moved inside me, how he bucked and raged, how he managed to go wild and yet master me all at the same time.
It was some form of magic or manipulation or maybe he just made me insane. I couldn’t say which. All I knew was that with each thrust of his cock, I felt myself slip further under his spell.
My first orgasm hit almost immediately.
The second took longer, growing torturously as Donovan drove into me, hitting me at just the right spot, and with each thrust, my nipples rubbed against the ties of the quilt below me. It couldn’t have been more agonizing if he had planted the quilt there. The yarn tickled my breasts and no matter how much I tried to adjust my position, I couldn’t get the pressure to be enough. Every time I attempted to raise my torso even an inch off the mattress, he would push me back down. As if he knew the torment I was suffering. As if he wanted me to suffer more.
And I loved it.
When my second orgasm hit, my body fell into spasms, writhing with ecstasy.
I was still thrashing when Donovan put both of his legs on the floor. He shifted me so that my body was now perpendicular on the bed, and just my wrists were bent at the post. With his fingernails digging into my hips, he hammered into me, chasing his own orgasm, which he found quickly.