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Caught under her spell, I obliged. She held the bottle of bourbon, her grip firm as we switched positions until I laid my back against the headboard. Taking a long sip, her eyes never left mine as she extended the bottle to me with a slight nod. I took it, pooling a gulp of warm liquid in my mouth and letting it slide down my throat.

Eleanor’s hands moved with purpose, undoing my belt and pulling it free in one smooth motion. She toyed with the leather, running it through her fingers as she looked down, then back up at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The wheels in her head were turning, formulating a plan that left me breathless with anticipation.

“Have you ever been tied up?” she asked, sitting back on her heels, her voice sultry and filled with promise.

I swallowed hard, shaking my head.

“There’s a first time for everything,” she replied.

Eleanor took the bottle back, placing it between her legs as she leaned in closer. Grasping my hands, she guided them toward the bed frame, its thin metal slats perfectly spaced for what she had in mind. She slowly wrapped the belt around my wrists and the frame, binding me securely.

I glanced up, the knotwork tightening as she finished, ensuring I wasn’t going anywhere. A rush of heat spread through me. I was at her mercy, completely under her control. Where I should have felt vulnerable, I felt exhilarated instead.

She had all the power over me, had me under her beautiful spell.

Eleanor grabbed either side of my button-up shirt and yanked, buttons flying all across the room. My chest and abs were on display, the cool air hitting my hot skin.

It was a shame; I really liked that shirt—but watching Eleanor pop it open? I liked that even better.

Her hands fell to my chest and she explored my pecs, giving each one the attention it deserved. The soft skin of her palms brushed over my nipple, making it instantly hard at the touch. Goosebumps followed in her wake as she sank her touch down to my abs.

She popped open the button of my jeans and reached in to palm my cock, which was already hard and aching for her…again.

Her grasp loosened, and suddenly, I missed the warmth she gave. Eleanor sat back and removed my hat from her head.

Disappointment washed over me at the thought of her taking it off.

Placing it down next to us, Eleanor then gripped the hem of her tank and removed it completely. Nearly bare and hovering above me, she reached down and placed the hat back onto her head.

I let out a whimper at the sight of her, the beautiful curves that filled those jeans, the hat back where it fucking belonged.

My hands moved to touch her but the restraint held them back.

“Fuck,” I cursed, pulling against the belt again. “I don’t want to be restrained. I need to touch you.”

Eleanor laughed and stood from the bed, leaving me helpless as I watched her slowly undress. Placing the bottle of liquor on the nightstand, she stood in front of me, another matching set of lace on her perfectly fair skin.

“Not so fast, Mr. Stone,” she cooed, running her hands all along her body. She was taking the time to explore herself—one hand starting at her hips and feeling its way up until she extended it in the air and swung her hips.

I wanted her so badly, needed her more than I needed fucking air. She was the oxygen I breathed, the water I drank. Without the taste of her, I was nothing but a shell.

I was realizing that more than ever now. Being denied the power, having to watch her without the ability to dive into her the way I wanted.

Eleanor hooked both her thumbs into the waistband of her lace thong, dragging it down her body until she was able to kick it to the side. She took her time now, teasing me as she removed her bra. Those perfect breasts that I saw every time I closed my eyes bounced free.

Bare tits and my cowboy hat on her head…nothing got better than that.

This woman was everything I’d ever needed, everything I’d ever wanted. Every fantasy I’d ever had for all of my life had always been her—I just hadn’t met her yet.

I licked my lips, wanting to take one of her hard nipples in my mouth and use my tongue to flick the nub until she screamed for me to stop.

“I still have that pair of panties you left in my car,” I admitted, not knowing why. The filter I had was so far gone at this point. That confession was supposed to be a secret I’d take to my grave.

That night, I shoved them into my glove box with the intention of never letting them go, my reminder of Eleanor and the night we shared.

She giggled and climbed back onto the bed, crawling toward me like a cat on the prowl. “You like a trophy, Mr. Stone?” Eleanor asked, but I was so enthralled with the way she was moving I couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Grabbing the bottle in her slender hand, she straddled my hips, her pussy pressed against my stomach. Feeling how wet she was, she rubbed herself back and forth along the sliver of hair trailing down to my cock.