Make Me, Sir

her? He really was a cat, toying with his prey. She veered around a hedge and ran straight into him, a solid wall of muscle. “Oooph!”

He chuckled and set her on her feet. “The next time, sugar, I’m taking you down.” He stepped back a pace. “Run.”

Chapter Ten

The low-voiced threat sent excitement churning through her, making her aware of the cool fog against her ankles, the way bushes scraped on her naked body when she got too close, the way her breasts jostled as she ran. A corner. Another. She popped into a secluded spot to catch her breath, and back out and-

He grabbed her from behind.

“No!” Instinctive terror blasted her. She twisted and shoved at him frantically.

Marcus… It was Marcus, not a stranger. Okay. Okay. Using her head now, she pulled and sidestepped, and his hands slipped off her oily body.

“Li’l brat.” He made another grab for her.

I’m a greased pig, all right. Giggling, she dashed for the far side of the clearing, gaining only a few yards before his hand closed on her arm-and she yanked out off his grasp. No hitting or scratching, she reminded herself.

“You are a slippery little thing, aren’t you?” he said, his southern accent markedly increased. The bastard grabbed her hair.

“Ow!” She turned to hit him-rules be damned-and he moved faster than she’d thought possible. Setting an arm behind her shoulders, the other up between her legs, he yanked her hips forward, tipping her backward, then dropped down on his knees with her in his arms. Before she got her balance, he rolled her onto her stomach.

No way. She got her feet under her and lunged forward.

With a low laugh, he caught her ankle and yanked her back, then set a knee on her butt. His weight pinned her, making her feel…odd. Excited.

Yet the second his powerful hands closed on her shoulders, terror engulfed her in a cold, mindless fog. She froze.

He stilled. Waited. She caught a whiff of his musky amber scent, and warmth dissipated her fear. It was Marcus touching her. Knowing his knee rested on her bare bottom, his weight trapped her, made all the difference. She wiggled and couldn’t resist taunting him. “You rat-bastard dipwad, let me go.”

Chuckling, he tightened his grip. “Mouthy little sub.” The wrist cuffs snicked off his belt. “I am going to enjoy what I do to you.”

Oh God. Under the growing tension, unable to help herself, she squirmed, and he simply put more weight on her. Controlling her.

Despite her thrashing, he firmly buckled one wrist cuff on and the other, then clipped them together behind her back. When he removed his weight, she thought he’d pull her to her feet. Instead his knee pushed between her thighs, keeping her legs apart.

His jeans scraped against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. For a minute, he didn’t move. And then he stroked her legs, traced the crack between her butt checks, squeezed her waist. He ruthlessly touched her how and where he pleased, and her skin burned under his calloused hands until it seemed she might set the grass beneath her on fire.

He set his palm between her legs to cup her heat and gave a satisfied, “Mmmmh. You’re nice and wet, darlin’.”

His touch roused her, yet…she felt too naked, too restrained, too vulnerable. Needing to escape, she wiggled. Helplessly.

“No, Gabrielle.” His voice deepened, a smooth threat as his hand pressed on her ass cheeks, holding her in place. “Stay put, sugar. I want to examine my prize.”

The commanding voice, the knowledge he wouldn’t let her move, melted her inside. This was what she wanted, needed. Someone to take the control from her. She turned her head and rested her cheek. The cool grass scraped and tantalized her bunching nipples, an erotic contrast to his warm hand on her bottom.

“Good girl.” His unyielding hand held her down as with his other, he touched her intimately, caressing her folds and sending heat lancing up her center. When he slowly pressed a finger through her puffy tissues and up inside her, pleasure boiled up so violently that her eyes almost crossed.

His finger slid out, then pushed in deeper. He made another pleased sound. “Yes, Li’l Sassy, I’m going to tie you down, spread you open, and see how much of me you can take.”

Oh God, yes. Her pussy clenched around him.

With a low laugh, he rose and lifted her easily to her feet. Holding her wrist cuffs, he reached around her and teased her breasts, pulling on her nipples, until her breasts burned with the same need as her pussy. As he pushed her toward the darkest section of the tiny area, he said in a low voice, “I intend to take my time later, but right now, little escaped slave girl, I’m going to fuck you hard.” The rude word in Marcus’s smooth voice was jarring. And so hot her knees wobbled.

Something glinted in the pale moonlight, and she saw that a heavy chain ran down from a thick tree branch and intersected four chains that opened to hold up…a tire swing. Rather than a standing-up position, the tractor-sized tire lay horizontally. “A swing?”

“You’ll know why in a minute.” Marcus unclipped her wrists, grabbing her quickly before she could escape, and tossed her onto her back between the two sets of chains. The tire had canvas attached over the hole, providing support in the center. Her neck rested on the tire rim. I don’t want to make love on a damned swing. She sat up.

Marcus laughed and shoved her down, then clipped her wrist cuffs to the chains beside her shoulders. The tire rocked wildly as she struggled, yet her excitement increased with each unsuccessful yank against the chains. When he walked to the bottom of the swing, she kicked at him. “I don’t want to have sex here.”

“I didn’t ask what you wanted.” He caught one leg in his merciless grip, and now she’d seen him without the suit, she knew just how muscular he was. “And I’m going to enjoy tying you up, sugar.” He tried to bend her leg up, but she kept it straight-that was the whole point of the game, right?

She almost giggled. So maybe not all her insolent behavior was playacting. And every time he made her obey, it seemed to fan the flames in her roaring furnace.

With an amused sound, he held her leg in one hand and poked her in the ribs with a knuckle. She squeaked, and suddenly he had her leg bent and had her ankle in a strap hanging from the chain. He did the same on the other side, and there she was, naked and outside in a garden, faceup on a tire swing, wrists hooked to the chains, straps holding her legs up and apart.

God, this was so wrong. Kinky. Insane.

Yet heat seared her skin as he ran his hands over the backs of her thighs, leaving tingles in their wake. “I want that little pussy all the way down here where I can get to everything,” he said and pulled her hips until her bottom hung out over the end of the tire and her legs angled toward her shoulders. He secured a strap up and over her pelvis to keep her hips from moving. At all.

Her pussy was open and exposed, and the slight movement of the swing wafted air over her wet folds. He studied her for a minute and smiled. “There you go, all ready for anything I want to do to you. You look beautiful, Gabrielle,” he murmured.

She couldn’t take it anymore, not from him. “Gabi.”

“Excuse me?” His fingers slid between her folds, circling her clit.

Her breathing increased as her clit seemed to engorge. “My friends call me Gabi.”

“Well, now, I do believe we might be considered friends,” he said, amusement obvious, as he teased her, rubbing one side of her clit, circling her entrance, repeating it again. He was too damned good at using his fingers, dammit. Her need grew, her pussy craving to be filled almost as much as her aching nub of nerves needed more of his touch. She squirmed, trying to get more.