“I like that,” he purrs, sliding his hand up my back and unhooking the clasps on my bra. He manages to get all four in a split second and we both watch as the cups fall forward and the hard, pink points of my nipples emerge from the white lace. “Keep calling me that,” he says, voice rough and gravelly as he lifts up a hand and palms my left breast. My pale white skin is emphasized by the color on his fingers, making me even wetter, even hotter than I was before. How is this even possible?
Royal flicks his thumb over my nipple and I groan, my knees going weak and my body collapsing into his. It feels too good. All of it just feels too damn good.
“You might just be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” he drawls, his tongue tracing his lower lip.
“Might?” I whisper a split second before he literally scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing.
“Maybe might was the wrong word,” Royal says as he carries me down the hall and into a bedroom of navy blues and dark woods, a huge four poster king size bed and a whole wall of curtains that I just know must open up onto a stunning view of the ocean. “Lyric Rentz, you are the most attractive woman I've ever had the pleasure of seducing.”
“Only because I let you seduce me,” I add, just because I need to get one more jab in there before Royal covers my mouth with his, kissing me hard and deep before settling on the edge of the bed on his knees. He lays me down next, nesting my head in the pile of pillows.
The whole room smells like him, like leather and forest and this spicy masculine sweetness that makes my toes curl. I'm trying to take it all in when he drops his face to my breasts, stubble scraping across my tender nipples and making me cry out before he even gets a chance to slide his tongue across the aching flesh.
“Oh God,” I groan, arching my back and reaching up to grab one of the spindles on the dark wood headboard. “I can't take that.” My pussy's aching so bad that I feel like I could come at any second, and I don't want to, not when he hasn't even touched me down there.
“You're not going to blow your load, are you?” he asks me, taking a brief break from my breasts to gaze up at me, his dark hair sliding across his forehead and his mouth twisting into a grin. “Do I have to handcuff you?” My heart skitters and jumps, and I'm almost too embarrassed to say yes to that.
But then again, I'm a biker chick today. A tough as nails, leather wearing badass.
“Yes,” I say and Royal's eyes widen like that was something he didn't expect. Good. I'm capable of surprising him, too. “Do it.”
He pulls back, the weight of his body lifting off me and making me groan. I want it back.
“Lucky for you, I'm a kinky son of a bitch.”
He moves to a dresser and opens the top drawer, lifting out a pair of leather cuffs connected by a silver chain. When he turns around, they're dangling enticingly from a single finger.
“You sure you want this?” he asks me. “Because once I get them on you, I'm not stopping until I'm finished with you. I don't care if you come a hundred fucking times tonight, you hear me?”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, my voice breathless and almost unrecognizable.
“This time,” he says as he comes back over to the bed and hooks the cuffs around my left wrist, “it really is.” Royal wraps the chain around the center spindle of his headboard, effectively pinning me in place, then climbs back onto the bed, settling himself between my legs, propped up on his knees and staring down at me.
When his smile fades away and his face fills with this raw heat, my heartbeat picks up speed and my pulse begins to pound. There's this sense of masculine satisfaction in his movements, like a wolf who's just found his mate.
The analogy makes me swallow hard.
“You wanted to see this?” Royal asks, reaching back and grabbing the fabric of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one swift motion. My breath catches and I wish suddenly that I hadn't asked him to handcuff me. I want to touch that, all of it.
I struggle a little in my cuffs as he looks down at me, dark eyes lidded and expression smug. This is a man that knows how beautiful he is, knows the reaction he can get from a woman just by taking off his clothes.
Royal's chest is covered in tattoos, connecting the designs that trace up either side of his arms. There's a banner with a dark cursive scrawl that I can't quite read in the gray darkness of his bedroom. What I can make out are the pistols on either shoulder, the skulls beneath the banner, the roses. He even has a few well-placed designs just above the waistband of his pants.
“Well?” he asks, a small smile finally breaking through that lusty expression of his. “Is it possible that I might be the most beautiful man you've ever seen?”