He chuckles as he wraps his arm around me and pulls me in tight. His large hand is on my hip, and he strokes the skin between my panties and my tank top absently with his thumb. “Imp.”
I giggle.
“I realize I’m new to your world, Eve, but you’re a manipulative little thing. I’m going to call Davis and get some tips from him before you steamroll me.”
I giggle again. “At least I’m not as bratty with you. I’m usually bratty at the club.”
“Surely you recognize that isn’t going to work with me,” he points out.
I shrug, not committed to that fact.
I want to be good. I want to go to sleep like he’s asked me. But I can’t do it. I want something else, something more. So, I slide my hand under his shirt and flatten my palm on his stomach before easing it up to his amazing chest. He’s ripped. Like, hard-as-a-rock ripped.
He sets his hand over mine, his on top of the shirt, stilling me. “Eve…” he warns.
“What?” I ask all innocently as I slide my top leg up over his thigh. I have no idea who I am or what I’m doing, but I need to be closer to him.
One second I’m half on top of him, touching him everywhere I can at once, and the next second, I’m flat on my back. My arms are pinned above my head, both wrists locked with one of his hands.
My eyes are wide and I gasp.
His other hand lands on my belly. My bare skin. My tank top is twisted and has risen up under my boobs. “You’re playing with fire, Eve.”
“I like fire.” I’m panting now.
He searches my face.
“Please?” My voice isn’t little or big. Somewhere in the middle. I squirm. I’m so fucking aroused. I need release. “Would you take off your shirt?” I ask, tentatively.
He shakes his head at the same time he rises over me. His hands come to the hem of my tank top, and two seconds later, he’s shoving it over my head. “No, but I’ll take off your shirt.”
I gasp the moment my boobs are exposed. I want this. I’ve wanted him to fuck me for days. I want his mouth on me. I want my mouth on him. Why on earth am I suddenly bashful?
I whimper and squirm as his gaze lands on my small tits. He reclaims my wrists with one hand, tangling them in my tank top. Hovering over me, his other hand slides up my belly until he’s cupping one globe.
“So pretty,” he whispers. That doesn’t help my adult at all. He’s dragging out my little.
When he lowers his mouth to reverently kiss my hard nipple, I gasp. I was wrong earlier. I have a new level of arousal that is unsurpassed. I’m about to self-combust and he hasn’t really touched me.
He flicks his tongue over the tip, and I cry out. “So you like that, baby? Do you like it when I lick your little nipple?”
“Yes, Sir.” Nothing in my life has ever felt as good as this.
I’m conflicted. I don’t have sex as my little. I’ve never been in this situation. I’m dominant in the bedroom. Or at least equal. Vanilla. My little never comes to the surface. What is it with this man? This Daddy.
He licks my nipple again before sucking it, letting his teeth nip gently.
I moan, my eyes rolling back. My panties are soaked, and my legs are pressed together as tightly as I can manage.
He shifts his weight slightly and cups the other breast. “Does this one feel neglected?”
“Yes, Sir.” My voice is strained. I’m desperate.
Colt circles my nipples with his fingertip. Over and over. It’s maddening. I want more. I’ve never been so wiggly in my life.
“If you stop squirming, I’ll suckle it.”
I whimper again. “Please…” my voice comes out as a whine and I arch my chest the scant amount of space possible before holding my breath and forcing myself to remain still.
He circles my eager nipple with his tongue before sucking it like he’d done to its twin.
“Colt,” I scream.
He releases my swollen nipple and shakes his head. “Colton. If you’re going to shout my name, I want you to call me Colton.”
I swallow, blinking at him. “Okay.”
He lifts that brow.
I flush. “Yes, Sir.” Why does he still have his clothes on? Why wouldn’t he take his shirt off?
“Good girl.” He resumes tormenting my tits with licks and flicks and little bites.
“Colton…”
“Yeah, that’s better.”
“Please…”
After another love bite, he lifts his gaze. “If I release your hands, can you keep them above your head, baby?”
I nod fervently.
“If you move them, I’ll find something to restrain you with. Understood?”
Jesus. Just restrain them now. I don’t say this. “Yes, Sir.”
He holds my gaze, a slow smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “You’re a naughty girl who’s going to move both hands the moment I let go, aren’t you?”
The flush climbing up my cheeks deepens. “Yes, Sir,” I murmur.
“Do you want me to tie you down, baby?”
“Yes, please.”
“Ask me, Eve. Ask me to tie your hands to the headboard. Ask me to do it because the idea is making you so damn horny you can’t think.”
I lick my dry lips and meet his gaze. “Please tie my wrists to the headboard, Sir.”
“Why?” His smile is enough to get me to do anything in the world.
“Because I’m a naughty girl, and I won’t be able to leave them above my head, Sir.”
“Don’t move.” He climbs off me, grabs my robe from the floor, and tugs the tie out of the loopholes.
I watch in awed silence as he returns, wraps it around my wrists, and secures them to the headboard. My boobs are high and flat on my chest. I feel so exposed. I moan as he slides down my body. He pauses to tease my nipples again, then continues lower, kissing toward my belly button.
When he twirls his tongue in the little dip, I giggle.
“Are you ticklish, baby?”
I
