Naughty Tonight(8)

Third shelf. A fur-lined paddle. Another sans fur with holes drilled out in the shape of a heart. Then one lined with sleek leather and a flogger, this one not made of leather but some sort of rope that shone like silk.

More, farther back, she couldn’t even see. “You have a lot of paddles.”

“My favorite toy. Even above the clamp.”

You know, I could spank you for how you’ve acted tonight.

Her arousal soared. Her pussy creamed. And in that moment, Kim learned something shocking about herself. Apparently, BDSM turned her on. “Okay,” she confirmed out loud, more to herself than him.

Fourth shelf. Handcuffs made of the same sleek roping. Neatly packaged restraints.

Fifth shelf. A triangle-shaped pillow she imagined was for lying over. Tied up. While he spanked her.

Kim trembled as Jackson stepped behind her, his nose and lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Still think you want me? Think you can handle me?”

How could her whole perception of him have been so altered in less than five minutes?

Unable to speak, Kim nodded. Yes, she wanted him. Yes, she wanted him this way, spanking included. More than she’d ever wanted anything, ever.

And yes, she supposed, if she could handle scaling a four-hundred-foot rock wall or flipping her four-wheeler in the pouring rain or catching a baseball with her bare hands, she could handle a little sport in the bedroom.

She found her voice, in the form of a frog. “Piece of cake,” she croaked. “If you’re hungry.”

A groan—practically a growl—tore from his throat…in delight? In frustration?

She supposed she was about to find out.



Hungry? More like starved. Kimmy’s advances had ignited a burning hole in him, one that demanded to be filled. That twisted his soul.

Had he really convinced himself she’d take a look at his closet and call it quits?

Of course not. Nothing short of an earthquake gashing directly between them would scare stubborn Kimmy away. Not when her mind was set. How it’d set on him, he had no idea. “You should’ve let things be, Kimmy. We were happy.”

But so be it. He damn well wasn’t going to play nice tonight though, not when she was destroying their perfect friendship.

In the lamp’s golden glow, he undid those two pathetic buttons holding his shirt on her and slid it from her body to the floor. His fingers trembled as they trailed over the tanned flesh of her shoulder and back, and he took that seductively golden bra and popped free the hooks, letting it drop away. His hands searched out the plentiful breasts that glimpses of had taunted him for years. Not to mention all damn day.

His Kimmy. So good. So sweet. So safe.

“We. Were. Happy.” Now nothing would ever be the same.

“Liar. We’ve both been agonizing. I see the way you look at me. It’s obvious.”

Damn her.

Her moan filled the air as he cupped the supple mounds roughly, flattening them with his palms. Massaging. Exploring. Budded nipples sprung under his fingers, her flesh gave way to his demands. She leaned into him, inviting, “More!”

“Oh, you think?” Really believed she knew what she was getting into, didn’t she?

To test her, he pinched the tight buds, and her reaction—a cry of pleasure, followed by a quick tensing—was all the proof he needed. This girl, once untouchable, was all his. Any way he’d have her, clay in his quaking hands. How could this be happening?

He pinched again, harder, and she mewed delight.

Jackson could have held her there like that, playing forever. So soft and sweet and whimpering her willingness despite the pain-laced plucks he applied. But his cock had other plans in mind.

His cock demanded what it had wanted and been denied too many years to count. Of that she was right about…but it didn’t mean he had to like it.

Or be nice about it. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

About the sex. About what would happen to them afterward. Perfection destroyed.

Skidding blunt fingers over the flat of her belly, Jackson bent at the knee, his face butt level—damn, how she smelled like sex—as he fished Japanese silk rope handcuffs from the fourth shelf down. Sliding the openings over graceful fingers, he pulled her hands behind her back and jerked them tight by way of the wedge in the middle, securing her.

His fingers fluttered there, at that binding, hesitant. This was Kimmy…

Deep down, he knew he didn’t need to do this. He could just take her, thrust into that juicy cunt and drive them both into oblivion. Make love.

Love. The prospect whispered to him, all light and feathery, like the urging of an angel.

But Jackson had never made love to anyone, ever, in his whole life. He fucked.

Hot with anger for wanting what could only destroy, for her forcing this onto him, Jackson knotted his grasp around those handcuffs and wrenched her around, shoving her several steps then hurling her facedown on the bed. “You know what, Kimmy?”