“Slick heat,” he added. “I wonder…” And he slid his finger back out.
“Ple—” She bit down hard on the rest of that word. Damn him.
Then she felt him again and her hips began to lift, doing some begging of their own. She couldn’t help it.
He pressed her hips back down to the cold table, with just enough pressure for her to feel the steel press against her mound. But not enough to take care of her. Goddammit, when it was her turn, she was going to turn him inside out with wanting her.
Then she felt a new pressure between her thighs—still warm, still wet, but larger. Her hips twitched hard against the need to bear down as his fingertips—two this time—slipped beneath the thong strap.
“Take them off,” she said. Commanding, not begging, she told herself.
“When I’m ready. I like the way they strap my fingers into you.”
Whatever she might have said came out as a deep, gutteral groan of pleasure when he slid both fingers into her. With her hips still pressed flat as they were, she couldn’t participate, couldn’t move and push and, yes dammit, control the motion. By keeping her like this, he forced her to submit to his idea of how this should proceed.
He slid them back out, then pushed one back in, keeping the other one straight so he could press right where she—
“Thank you, God!” she grunted, then screamed as she came violently against his fingers. To his everlasting credit he kept them where they were until she stopped shuddering. She couldn’t remember ever coming so hard with such little provocation. Although he’d primed her with a lot of provocation first. Still… She lay there and let the pleasure waves continue to ripple and twitch through her as he slid out of her.
Then she began devising her plan. Her turn now.
8
IT TOOK ALL of his willpower not to stroke himself through his jeans. He’d never felt such a desperate need to bury himself in a woman. But then, he’d never played kinky sex games on his kitchen counter before. Dylan wasted a moment trying to imagine any of the women he’d met in Canyon Springs sprawled, cuffed and naked, on his stainless steel island. Couldn’t do it.
But Liza…she looked perfect. Too damn perfect.
She started to roll over and his hands shot out to hold her still. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She started to lift her head, but apparently decided it was too much work. The muscles in her thighs were relaxed, pliable beneath his hands. For all he knew she relaxed this fully on a regular basis, but he didn’t think so. She was on a vacation, of sorts anyway, and tied up like a knot.
“My turn,” she murmured.
“Oh, not quite yet it’s not.”
Now she lifted her head, just enough to look over her shoulder. Sweet Mother of God, she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. And in his former line of work, he’d seen plenty. Her eyes alone were drenched blue sex.
“Oh?” she queried.
One arched brow and he twitched hard inside his jeans.
“Oh yeah.” He slid his hands down over her thighs, all the way to her calves. Slowly, until she sighed and laid her head back down.
“If you insist.”
He grinned. Giving him permission, was she? What was it about her “woman on top” attitude that pushed his buttons? He hadn’t been lying about letting previous partners have their way with him. He was more than happy to let the woman do all the work if she was so inclined. He was more than happy to do his share, too. Whatever Worked—that was his motto.
But this dominant streak she brought out in him—he couldn’t think of any other term for it—was completely unlike him. In fact, given his line of work, he was generally very careful not to intimidate in intimate situations. Even when—especially when—his partner hinted she might like it. It simply wasn’t his thing.
Well it sure is now, cowboy, his little voice taunted him. He had to agree. With her it was.
He slowly slid his hands up her legs again. Maybe, at some point during the night, he’d find out why. He stopped when his fingers were brushing the curve of her very fine backside. She twitched, just a little, but it was enough to elicit the same response in him.
The scent of her filled the room and made his mouth water. Maybe it was time to make that thong go away. He gripped her hips and rolled her onto her back. And his breath simply left him. Arms stretched over her head, dusky breasts bared to him and nothing but a scrap of white spandex covering the sweet spot below…she was every man’s most carnal fantasy.
He didn’t know where to begin.
“Stop drooling.”
His gaze flicked up to her face. Her eyes were closed.
“Even if I promise to let you drool over me later?”
She lifted one slumberous eyelid. “Will I want to?”
He let the grin slide across his face. “Oh yeah.”
“Cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Eyes closed, she let her head loll to one side. “The key word being cocky, I hope.”
“Let’s just say I don’t get many complaints, either.”
Now she smiled. Lazy and content, like a cat sprawled in a hot pool of sunlight. “Not what I asked.”
“I know. You’ll just have to trust me.”
She laughed now, a deep rumbling purr that lifted the hairs on his entire body in the most pleasurable way. “Sheriff Jackson, you’ve gotten more trust out of me than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Good,” he said, then gripped her thighs and slid her to him until her buttocks rested at the edge of the table. He slipped her ankles up to his shoulders.
The move surprised a squeal out of her. She lifted her head and started to pull her hands down in front of her.
“Uh-uh,” he said. “Lie back down. I’m not done with you yet.” He cupped her ankles and ran his palms down the front of her legs. She watched him, watched his hands. “Do it, Liza.”
She lifted her gaze to his, and he knew she was dying to tell him where to get off. But then she wouldn’t get off. Again. And she knew it.
She glanced back down to where his fingertips rested, curved around the inside of her upper thighs, then back up at him.
“Don’t,” he warned.
She merely widened her eyes in mock innocence.
“I don’t want permission. I want your trust.”
Whatever amusement there had been in her eyes fled. She held his gaze squarely and in such a way as to say, Make me.
“I’m going to touch you. However I want to. With whatever I want.”
Her gaze remained on his, but her throat worked. And her nipples tightened, along with a fine tension that rippled beneath his fingertips.
“Lie back, Liza.”
Holding his gaze almost defiantly, she did so. When he slid his fingers inward, to where he knew she wanted him to go, she gasped first, then sighed and let her eyelids drift shut.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” she purred.
He smiled, beginning to realize why this was so enormously arousing to him. She was no pushover. But she was insatiably curious. He wondered if, put in the same position, he would acquiesce in the same way to her.
His smile spread to a grin. Probably.
“Open your eyes,” he instructed. “Watching is half the fun.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was having a great deal of fun a few minutes ago and my eyes were closed.”
“And now you’ll have even more.” He slid his hands from her legs, then leaned in a little so he could brush the flat of his palms across the tips of her nipples.
She gasped and her eyes flew open. “Cheater.”
“I never cheat. Going the long way around is too much fun.” He brushed his palms over her nipples again, loving the way they pebbled harder. So hard they just begged him to roll them gently between his fingers.
Her heels dug into his shoulders and her hips lifted just a fraction off the table as she sucked in her breath…and closed her eyes. “Dylan—”
He lifted his hands. “Watch me, Liza.”
She blinked them open. And he slowly leaned over, testing her flexibility…and allowing her to anticipate the moment when his lips and tongue would replace his fingers.
She pumped her hips up and came close to brushing against the front of him as he lowered his head toward her breasts. He stilled. She swore. He smiled.
“Are your shoulders sore?” he asked, a millimeter away from touching her nipple with the tip of his tongue.
“I have shoulders?” she asked, a bit breathlessly.
Her arms still rested over her head, cuffed at the wrists, further bound by her shirt and bra.
“Stop procrastinating, dammit,” she finally exclaimed.
“Bad move,” he said, and started straightening.
“No! No, don’t go. I’m—”
He stopped and grinned right in her face. “I’m what?”
She eyed him, pressing her lips together. “Not giving orders anymore,” she said finally.
“Oh. And here I was pretty sure I was going to get the S word out of you. Silly me.”
“You’re getting a whole lot out of me. Don’t push it.”
“Oh, but I want to. You make me want to push at a whole lot of things.” He leaned in and swiped the tip of his tongue over one nipple, then pulled the other into his mouth. She jerked, moaned and, he suspected, fought the urge to push her hips up. Hips that had to be seeking the same thing his were. He admired her control when she managed to keep them flat on the table as he continued to play with her incredibly responsive nipples. Because if she’d pumped up against him that time, when he had that velvety knob of flesh rolling against his tongue, he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have pumped back. Then ripped his pants off so he could pump some more.