Outside the tent, the wind picked up, tossing the tree branches with murmurs and whispers and groans that echoed the sounds inside the tent as Tag made love to her breasts until she writhed beneath him, desperate to have him inside her.
“So sweet,” he murmured. “You have the prettiest breasts, Kyla. Perfect and round and soft. And your nipples…” He kissed one, then the other. “Love how hard they are. Just made to be sucked. Mmm.” And he did that again.
The way he talked surprised her, this big jock, superstar athlete. She’d always known he was bright and articulate, the player the media all wanted to interview because he didn’t talk in clichés and had thoughtful, intelligent opinions about his sport. But the low tone of his voice and the sexy words and compliments were unexpected. And so very, very hot. Burning, scorching, set-the-sleeping-bag-on-fire hot.
She let her hands roam everywhere she could, from his short silky hair to the soft skin at the nape of his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt to his big shoulder bones. Her fingers scrabbled in the soft cotton of his shirt to draw it up on his body so she could feel more skin, satiny smooth skin over hard muscle. Heat radiated from him, the same heat flowing through her body in waves.
He rose up then, reached for the hem of his shirt with crossed arms and pulled it up and off. She’d seen his bare chest, but now she got to touch it, sliding her palms up his ridged abs to his pecs, rubbing over the hair there and then his nipples, flat discs with hard little nubs. He groaned and came back down over her, this time to kiss her mouth again, but the feel of his chest against her bare breasts, skin-to-skin contact, sent flames licking over every nerve ending. She lifted her pelvis into him, his erection evident against her. He rubbed himself against her, so big and hard, and more flames built inside her, a deeper, needier ache that she was getting desperate to ease.
“Slow,” he murmured against her lips at the restless movement of her hips beneath him. “Remember.”
“I can’t, Tag. God.”
“Delayed gratification,” he said, sliding down her body. “Wait for it. It’ll be worth it.”
“Oh god. I hope so.”
“Believe me, sweetheart.” He kissed her throat. “It’s killing me too.” He laid a string of kisses down between her breasts and onto her tummy. Her muscles there tightened and her fingers curled into her palms on the bed beside her. He paused, his cheek on her stomach, another visual that would remain seared into her memory for always—Tag’s tanned face, dark with a scruff of beard, his lips parted and eyes closed, resting against her naked body. So intimate. So heart-stoppingly beautiful. Tag.
A wave of emotion rushed over her. She tried to suppress it, squeezed her eyes closed against the prickling in the corners, and then as he moved again, pressing kisses to her abdomen, then lower, she got swept up in sensation again, in lovely warm sensation, Tag’s mouth opening on her skin, his fingers unbuttoning and unzipping her shorts and parting them so he could kiss lower still, over the front of her panties.
She lifted her hips as he eased the shorts down over them and slid them down her legs. “Sweet,” he murmured, looking at her panties, a pair of pink and white striped cheekie shorts. “Roll over.”
She blinked at him and he made a circular motion with his finger. She huffed out a laugh and rolled onto her stomach.
“Oh Christ,” he groaned.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” she said, voice muffled by the sleeping bag. Her face heated, imagining his appraisal of her body. “In my bathing suit.”
“True. But panties are different. Don’t ask me why.” A touch on her butt cheek made her jump a little and when she realized he kissed her there, heat rolled through her again. He kissed both cheeks, rubbed his palms over them and then, shockingly, slid his hand between her legs to cup her pussy. She moaned and her hips lifted and legs parted involuntarily to give him access, to touch her where she so badly needed to be touched. She felt him drawing her panties off, down over her legs.
She breathed into the sleeping bag, again imagining his eyes on her, what he was seeing.
“So pretty, Kyla.” He stroked a finger through her folds. “Such a pretty pussy.”
“I can’t stand it anymore!” she cried, trying to roll to her back again. “God, Tag!”
“Sssh. It’s windy out, but someone could hear us.”
She made a frustrated sound as his hand on her back pushed her down. God! With one hand he held her in place.
“I know what you need,” he said, and to her surprise, he rolled off her and off the bed, leaving her bereft, her pussy aching and pulsing with need. Yeah, she knew what she needed and him leaving wasn’t it. She lifted onto one elbow and watched him bend to pick up a small case from the floor of the tent. He set it on the bed, opened it and pulled out a roll of what looked like wide black tape.
“What is that?”
He smiled. He ripped open the roll. It sounded like Velcro. The next thing she knew, her wrists were bound behind her back with the stuff.
“Bondage tape,” he said, satisfaction deepening his voice.
She blinked. Her wrists tingled.
“You can’t be serious,” she breathed into the sleeping bag. “What are you, some kind of sadistic perv?” She rolled over, bending her elbows and fitting her hands into the small of her back.
He tipped his head to one side and held her gaze steadily. “Maybe.”
Her stomach did a little flip and warmth spread through her body. “I could just scream for help.”
“Yeah…no. You won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t want anyone to know about this. And also because I have this.” He pulled out a black rubber strap with a red ball attached to it.
Kyla stared. “What the hell is that?”
“A ball gag.”
“Jesus.” Her insides tightened and her pulse leaped. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Not if you keep quiet.” He held up the gag with a questioning look and a teasing glint in his eye that both excited and reassured her. The idea of trying to get away came into her head and then disappeared. Really, she had no hope of escaping him. And really…she didn’t want to.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I don’t want that,” she muttered. “I don’t want this stuff on my wrists either.” She eyed the case. “What other kinky stuff have you got in there?”
He smiled. “This.” He pulled out a small cloth bag. From it he withdrew a glass dildo. Her lips parted as she studied it. It was really very beautiful, clear glass with swirling red hearts in the shaft of it. She longed to touch it, to feel the weight of it, the smoothness of the glass. She swallowed. “Some lube,” he added, tossing a small bottle onto the bed. “A paddle. A blindfold. Some other stuff…but I don’t want to scare you.”
“You don’t scare me.” Oh lord, anticipation curled deep inside her. Her eyes fell on the paddle.
His grin had her melting into her panties. “I know, dammit. I never have, have I?”
She cocked her head, unsure what that was about. “No. But why would you want to?”
“I don’t want to scare you.” He sat on the bed beside her and laid his hand on her chest between her breasts. Her nipples immediately tightened and her skin heated. “Sometimes I wish you were just a little more impressed with me.”
She gazed up at him, not sure what to say. Didn’t he know how impressed she was with him? How much she’d worshipped him?
“But then,” he continued, his hand sliding up until it rested at her throat, cupping her there, so gently, yet so compellingly. “I’m actually glad you’re not. You treat me just like anyone else.”