She caught his head in her mouth and sucked on him.
He grabbed her, his hands clenched on either side of her skull as he surged upward.
She sucked him deeper, deeper, until he nudged the back of her throat, and then she eased back upward. Pulling away, she fisted him in her hand and dragged it up, then down, slowly, watching him. As the foreskin moved down, she leaned forward and licked the head of his cock. He swore and jolted, jerking up against her. His hands tangled in her hair. “Again,” he muttered. “Do it again, corazón.”
Heat gathered inside her, spreading through her on a slow burn as she did just that, using her tongue to tease his head. Vaguely, she remembered reading that uncut guys were more sensitive, so she was careful not to pull on him, although damn, it was hard to think because everything she did do seemed to send him higher, and higher.
She sucked him back in, taking him deep, feeling him bump against the back of her throat. Gus groaned and then, as she lifted up to do it again, he moved.
She moved . . . but not because she planned to. In a blur of speed and motion, she was on her back with him crouching between her thighs. He hooked his hands into the waistband of her panties and stripped them down her thighs. “You drive me crazy,” he muttered. “Absolutely out of my mind.”
He grabbed the condom from the bed and tore open the packet. She heard it rip and pushed up onto her elbows to watch as he unrolled it. He pinched it up near to the top and she cocked a brow, trying to memorize just how he did that, because if she had the chance, at some point, she’d actually be the one doing the taking here.
His gaze, heated and hungry, swept over her, and her heart slammed up into her throat as he came down on top of her. He caught one hand in his, and it struck her as absurdly gentle, possessive as he nudged against her entrance. She wanted to say something . . . anything . . . but words didn’t want to come.
“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice harsh and hungry.
She lifted her gaze and the look on his face, stripped of everything but that raw, naked need, hit the very heart of her. They watched each other as he slowly sank inside and Vaughnne had never felt more exposed, had never felt more vulnerable. Her breath hitched in her throat as he pulled back, the swollen head of his shaft stroking over sensitized nerves, and instinctively, she tightened around him, lifting her hips to draw him back in.
His hand tightened on hers as he surged deeper, harder. She moaned, closing her eyes. He let go of her hand and cupped her face, his thumb pressing against her chin. “Don’t close your eyes, corazón . . . mi vida. Watch me. Let me watch you.”
Forcing her lids up, she stared at him.
His gaze was hooded, intent on her face as he withdrew. This time, as he sank inside, he moved up, riding higher on her body, and she cried out as the movement had him rocking against her clit. She reached down, gripping the taut curve of his ass and arching up.
He did it again, and again, but right before the climax would have broken over her, he stopped.
“Gus, please!”
“My name.” He nipped at her lip. “Say my name.”
“Gustavo . . .” She shuddered against him as he shifted once more, this time moving back and settling on his knees, catching her legs and hooking them over his forearms, opening her. “Damn it, you’re killing me.”
A faint smile curved his mouth as he swiveled his hips against her, the slant of his body driving him against her in just the right way. Vaughnne tensed as the pleasure gripped her, wrapping around her and pulling her tighter, tighter . . . “Gus, please.” It ripped out of her in a whimper. “Gustavo . . .”
He rolled forward, her legs still hooked over his forearms, and the action drove him deep, so deep—he swelled, pulsed inside her, so hard, she felt bruised, and it was amazing, but he still wouldn’t let her come. Twisting against him, she worked her arms free and speared her fingers into his hair, lifting her head up to cover his mouth with hers. This time, she was the one to sink her teeth into his lower lip, and when he shuddered against her, she tightened her inner muscles around him. “Stop it,” he muttered.
“CARAJO.” He lifted his head, panting as he stared down at Vaughnne. She tightened around him yet again, the slick muscles of her pussy milking him in another tantalizing, teasing caress. That strong, sleek body of hers would drive him out of his mind, just as he’d expected. So many things he wanted to do to her . . . do with her. And there was just time for this.
“I won’t stop,” she whispered, looking at him with rich, dark brown eyes, a wicked smile on her face. “You’re trying to drive me crazy. I’m going to do the same to you. I—Gus!”
He drove deep, slamming home and shuddering as her cry bounced off the walls. Her head arched back, the slim line of her neck exposed. Her pulse beat a wild tattoo in her neck and he wanted to press his lips to that delicate spot. Wanted to lick away the bead of sweat he could see forming just there on her temple. But he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All he could do was surge inside her again, again, shuttling in and out as she tightened around his cock, until it was like he was working back and forth inside a silken fist.
Ragged breaths escaped them both and he could feel that rising tension inside her. This time, instead of trying to hold it off, he let it grab her, let it grab them both. It wasn’t enough. Wouldn’t ever be enough, he knew. Shifting, he let go of her legs and banded his arms around her, shaking as she did the same to him.
Locked in each other, he thought.
They were trapped, each possessed by the other.
Her ragged whimper echoed in his ear as she started to climax. He wanted to hear it again, and again. Blood thrummed in his head as he tried to hold back, but the need was a roaring dragon and it consumed him.
The inner muscles of her sheath gripped him, milking him convulsively, and he couldn’t fight it. “Vaughnne,” he rasped into her hair, clutching her tightly against him as he surrendered to that wild, almost painful need . . . to her.
TWENTY
IT had been a very long while since he had been forced to take action on his own.
Ignacio now had men who took care of things for him. But those men weren’t here now and there was simply no way he was going to let that little puta get away from him.
She wasn’t in the room now and he could finally think.
Finally. Every time she touched him, his ability to think just shut down, but she’d been gone for a little while and his mind was his own once more. His mind, his body . . . his rage. How long, he wondered? How long had she been controlling him?
His wrists were slick with blood, but the cable tie wasn’t coming loose. It wasn’t going to come loose, either.
He had to figure out a way to get free.
Of course, she had decided to do all of this in her room. Naturally, she had no weapons in here. A bunch of silly baubles and useless female sundries on the dresser but nothing he could use, even if he could get manage to get the chair he was tied to over there.
Think.
He had to think.
There was a way out of this; there had to be. He just needed to think it through.