“He doesn’t need distractions while he drives, do you, Ron?”
“No, sir.” The broad-faced native grinned when Chelsea re-directed her aggrieved look. “Just knock twice when you’re ready to go.” With that, he raised the privacy screen and sealed them in a comfortable capsule of black leather and burled wood.
Big brown eyes leveled on him. “I really can’t—”
He used his tongue to sweep all words of refusal right out of her mouth. Triumph surged when she sighed and leaned into him, and flared stronger when she pressed her face to his throat and said, “I guess I could…”
That’s all he needed to hear. He kissed her again and rapped twice on the panel. The limo rolled forward. With the hum of the engine insulating them, he quickly popped buttons on her white blouse, pushing it off her shoulders and down her arms. It landed on the dark carpet like a flag of surrender, but he had a sinking suspicion he was the one giving in, because this wasn’t supposed to be happening. After their week together, he should have been ready this morning with a smile and a wave, and been on his merry way. Instead he remained at the mercy of the same restless hunger that had propelled him all the way to Maui a day early just to be with her. He had about fifty miles to satisfy the hunger once and for all, and he didn’t like his chances.
The clasp of her white satin bra gave way with a little coaxing from his fingers. He lifted her breast, took it into his mouth, and tongue-whipped her nipple to attention. Slender arms wrapped around his head and she arched closer.
Needing to feel her under him, he tugged her down until she lay against the seat. He tore his mouth away and stared at her, mind reeling with possibilities. Apparently her mind rifled through some possibilities as well, because she pulled his shirt out of his trousers and ran her hands over his abs. He let her play, until she glided her palm down the front of his trousers and stroked his cock.
“Don’t. You. Dare. This will be over in three seconds if you keep that up.”
The words brought a slow smile to her lips. She stroked him again. Willfully. Leisurely. “Who’s going to stop me?”
“Me and Victoria’s Secret.”
Now the cocky smile gave way to confusion. Her hand stilled. “Come again?”
“Yes. I guarantee you will.” With that he whipped her bra down her arms and twisted it around her wrists. A quick tug confirmed the restraint would hold. He drew her bound hands over her head and hooked one dangling strap around the door pull.
“Hey!” Eyes wide, she tried to slide free, but with him straddling her hips, she couldn’t get the right angle to unhook herself from the latch.
“Let me go, Rafe.” Her brown eyes remained huge, and locked on him, but no fear lurked in their depths. He saw surprise, and excitement.
“Quiet.” He leaned closer and slid his thumb into her mouth—right past those plush lips—and caressed her tongue. “We don’t want to disturb Ron, right? He might decide to lower the privacy screen and check on you, and, well, beautiful as you look right now, I’d just as soon keep the view all to myself.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he moved his thumb in a slow circle over the velvety surface of her tongue. A comparatively subtle restraint, but one she accepted with a little moan and a lowering of her eyelids.
“That’s a good girl. Here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to do the touching. All I want. Anywhere I want. You’re going to sit back and take it. Understand?”
Not entirely, if the way she closed her lips around his invading thumb and sucked him deeper served as any indication. Christ, she killed him. Until Chelsea had blundered into his life, he hadn’t known it was possible to want to groan with pleasure and laugh at the sheer stubbornness of a woman. He had her half naked, trussed up, totally at his mercy, and still she challenged him. Apparently for the fun of it. And it was fun, damn it. Whether shoving him into a supply closet, walking out on a very promising dinner just to teach him a lesson, or swimming with sharks, Chelsea always entertained. Knowing he would soon board a plane and put thousands of miles between them brought an uncharacteristic sense of emptiness, followed by a harsh slap of irritation. People envied him, for fuck’s sake. A few more weeks of focus and patience separated him from his most ambitious professional goal. On a personal front, he’d never lacked for amusements. His life was anything but empty. He could, and would, walk away from her. As soon as this ride ended.
He withdrew his thumb and swept it over her lips. “I’m going to abandon your wicked mouth, Miss Wayne. Please try to control your volume without my help.” He ran his hands down her calves to her ankles and flicked her shoes off.
“Mr. St. Sebastian.” She tried to sound forbidding, but he ran his hands back up her legs, separating them more, and her tone softened. “Oh, God…”
He retraced his route, palms smoothing behind her knees, under her slim black skirt, until he hooked her panties. “Quiet, please.” Her breath hitched as he swept the scrap of satin down her legs and pocketed it for safekeeping.
“Are you planning to keep me tied up the entire time?” She tugged her wrists.
“Yes.” Then he lowered his head and trailed his mouth up the same territory his hands had just traversed. When he reached the hem of her skirt, he pushed it to her waist to give his mouth and hands access to everything he wanted.
“That’s not very…fair,” she whispered. “Ohhh…”
Her complaint trailed off when he lifted her long, gorgeous legs skyward, and crouched low, one knee on the floor, the other on the seat. His breath fanned her as he spoke. “Now that’s a very pretty picture.” He placed his thumb at her threshold.
“Rafe!”
“Quiet,” he reminded her, and teased her clit with the very tip of his tongue. At the same time, he eased his thumb inside, using the pad to trace a slow circle along her inner wall in a move that mimicked what he’d done in her mouth moments ago.
She shivered around him and her moan filled the back of the limo. He would have teased her about the volume, but the need to hear her uncensored moan again enslaved him as powerfully as the craving to taste her one last time. He should have been the one in control, but she seduced him with her hands tied. Literally. All she had to do was breathe.
Need brutalized him, but he kept his touch on her gentle. Punishingly gentle. The impatient edge to her moans told him she expected—demanded—he plunge her into ecstasy as hard and fast as possible. He refused. They’d have time for hard and fast, right after he shattered her so slowly, thoroughly, and irrevocably, her lips would instinctively form his name every single time she orgasmed for the rest of her natural life.
He closed his mouth around her clit, kissing her, rewarding each delicate pulse with a light, devastating lick. He kept the sweep of his thumb teasingly shallow, even when those low, husky moans turned to pleas. Her heels dug into his shoulders. Her hips rocked in a rhythm he recognized. He allowed her three hard, purposeful pumps before he pulled away.
The sudden move wrenched a very heartfelt, “God damn you,” out of her, which coaxed a smile out of him. “I’m certain he does, Miss Wayne.”
Stormy brown eyes locked on him. He rolled the condom on as quickly as possible, because although he enjoyed toying with her, he had sympathy for the condition he’d left her in. His cheek would be sporting her palm print by now if she had use of her hands. Perverse as he was, the thought of her slapping his face and ordering him to fuck her made his already stiff cock swell to new dimensions, and turned the process of rolling the condom on into a form of torture.
With the job done, he ran his hands along the backs of her thighs, spreading her legs, and guiding them higher, until her toes touched the upholstered ceiling of the limo. “Right there. Don’t move.” He leaned in, using his body to help support hers.
“I can’t,” she said, but held the position nonetheless. Sweat slicked her skin. Her cheeks flushed from the strain of complying.