Our kissing wasn’t the frenzy of earlier, but that didn’t make it any less intense. I gasped again as his mouth slid to my neck, teeth nibbling and biting. A hand moved down the side of my body, opening my legs so that he lay between them. His lips came back up to mine, teasing and promising, and I moan inside his mouth.
Once again he brought my wrists above my head, but this time I felt something loop around them. I broke off the kiss to look upwards at my bound wrists, then back at his cheeky grin. “I have a feeling you like this sort of thing,” he said, grinning as I pulled unsuccessfully at my new restraints. I didn’t even know where he’d gotten the cord, and certainly hadn’t noticed it on my way to the bed. The rope he used was thick, half as wide as my wrists but with enough slack for my bound hands to have some freedom of movement.
Lucas seemed satisfied with his handiwork. “Now I can do what I please.” He winked at me and lowered his mouth to suck one nipple. A rush of air escaped my lungs and I arched my back, craving more. He moved to lick the other nipple, teeth grazing the tip, then trailed his lips down my quivering belly. Slinging my knees over his shoulder, he gazed at me as I tried mightily to maintain some dignity, to no avail.
“I love the way you taste,” he murmured, igniting a flame in my heart. Spreading my knees apart, he lowered his head, and at the touch of his tongue my hips surged off the bed. I strained against my bonds, thrashing and trembling as his tongue probed at my entrance. Fingers pressed against the sensitive tissue, opening me farther as he pressed his face against me, and I let out a loud moan.
“Ooh, a screamer? Let’s make the boys below jealous.”
I clamped my lips tight, clenching my jaw, as Lucas dipped his head again. My body jerked and spasmed at his ministrations, small grunts and cries still working their way free, but nothing loud enough to make their way past the door. Lucas did his very best to work my body, pressing all the right buttons and secret places until I was a tense, shaky mess.
He pulled his mouth away then raised himself up suddenly, lifting my hips off the bed. Twisting me sideways on the bed, he lifted one leg to rest on his shoulder as he pushed my body into position and thrust up inside me. I pulled against my restraints, a loud cry coming from my lips before I clamped them shut again. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, thrusting slowly and deliberately, hitting a point inside that sent shivers up my spine. The new position hit all the right places, and my orgasm rose quickly toward the surface, but Lucas wasn’t ready to be done so soon.
He pulled free and spun me over again so I was laying face down on the bed. Grabbing the lobes of my backside, he gave them a little shake, then a teasing smack at my annoyed look. “I like playing with your ass,” he said, giving me a cheeky grin. “Almost as much as I like plowing it.”
His thumbs traced the crease, spreading me open as I pulled my knees up under me. I pressed my face into the pillow, tensing as one finger slid over my rear opening, but he bypassed that and moved to the sensitive flesh below. He positioned himself behind me, the thick tip pushing slowly inside. My belly clenched in anticipation and I heard Lucas hiss, his hands pulling my hips back until he was sheathed fully inside me. His forehead pressed against my shoulder blades, hands moving up to my waist as he pulled out then back inside, repeating the movement more forcefully a second time.
I grabbed the extra length of rope, holding tight as the thrusts grew quicker and more forceful. Moaning loudly into the pillow, I tilted my backside higher, nerve endings screaming at the pleasurable friction. Teeth grazed the skin behind my neck, and when the first bite came the sharp pain only added to the pleasure.
“God, you’re sexy,” he breathed into my hair. The compliment made my heart sing and I clenched around him, pushing back against his hips. He cursed and I grinned, doing it again. He plunged forcefully inside and I groaned into the pillow. So much pleasure, with my release just out of reach.
He pulled free and flipped me over onto my back. There was no pausing this time; he was back inside me within seconds, face only inches from my own. I couldn’t hold in my cries but he covered my mouth with his, swallowing my moans and sounds. My legs wrapped around his narrow waist, locking behind his back. I sobbed as I felt the orgasm rise slowly toward the surface, threatening to overwhelm my senses. Pulling at my bonds, I ached to touch him, hold him against me.
“Let me see you come.” Lucas’ voice was breathless, his face inches from mine. Those gorgeous eyes were a deep blue, darkened with lust and need. The pale scar stood out, an angry slash on his beautiful face. Then my world was consumed by the whirlwind ripping through my body, every muscle tensing as I exploded. Even Lucas’ lips couldn’t hold my cry this time as I moaned and thrashed.
The scarred man continued to hammer into me, his breathing ragged, and every stab only made the waves continue longer. I closed my eyes, body beyond spent, as Lucas finally came deep inside, collapsing atop me. My heart thundered in my chest as we both struggled to catch our breath. “I didn’t think it could get much better than earlier today,” Lucas murmured, not even bothering to lift his head.
I didn’t answer, my mind too blown to formulate a proper response. After a moment, Lucas pulled out but kept me close, his warm body a comforting weight bearing me down on the mattress. He released the rope from around my wrists, and my arms dropped limp to the pillow above my head. We lay there for a moment, struggling to breathe normally again.
“Why is it,” I asked after a moment of silence, “that most of your men are Russian?”
The non sequitur comment drew a startled chuckle from Lucas. He folded his arms across my breasts and rested his chin atop one wrist, looking at me in amusement. “Many of my early associates were from Eastern bloc countries. Also, while Anya was with me, I had an easy translator for certain segments of that population.”
His eyes clouded at the mention of the Russian girl, killed by an assassin not even a week before. “Did you love her?” I asked bluntly, aware of the awkward direction our conversation was taking.
He started to speak, then paused. “Maybe once,” he murmured, apparently not thinking this was an odd discussion topic given our current position. “When I first met her, she was young and naïve. I was angry and selfish; stealing her away from my brother was a way to get back at him for taking over my life.” He sighed, staring blankly beside me. “Times change. People change. I didn’t do enough to keep Anya sheltered from this lifestyle, and now she’s dead.” He met my eyes again. “What about Jeremiah? Do you love him?”