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But not for long. Her head fell back; a moan wrenched from her. Because he’d taken those wicked wet fingers and was now circling her nipple. Oh my God. I’m not going to survive this. Every swirl echoed between her thighs. Every flick was like his fingers were moving over her clitoris instead.

Her hands scrambled where they were trapped behind her against his solid stomach. And she managed to get hold of what she was searching for. He groaned into her neck as she wrapped her fingers around him. Her eyes rolled back. So. Thick.

He thrust into her grip as he continued his torture on her nipples. She shoved him down the crease of her arse, trying to force him between her thighs. His dark, raspy chuckle danced over her skin. But he let her have what she wanted this time. His cock slid between her thighs.

She pushed against him, but he ducked slightly, denying her. She whined. If he just thrust a couple times between her thighs… If she squeezed… Her muscles tightened, her core clenching. She was so close. He stilled.

She dropped her head back and banged it against his shoulder. “I hate you.” Her words were nothing but a pathetic cry.

“Wider,” he demanded.

Her body instantly obeyed. A huff fell from her. Like she had a choice? She had no control over her body anymore. It didn’t matter that her hands were bound. He had the ultimate power over her. She’d do anything. She whimpered. She just wanted to come.

Then the head of his cock was at her entrance. Slipping over her aching flesh. But torturously light. Her core fluttered, faint streaks of bliss shooting through her. Then he was gone. And she was left panting, a bead of sweat dripping down her temple. She’d been so close.

And then he spun her.

Those grey eyes were long gone. Black lust stared back at her. And it was the most magnificent sight she’d ever witnessed. Red painted his high cheekbones. His forehead glistened with perspiration. The muscles in his face were tight with strain. Which only had her need soaring higher. Because this was affecting him just as much as it was her.

She wasn’t alone in this. And somehow that amplified everything.

His upper arm flexed, and she followed down the bulging muscle, down his delicious, corded forearm. To her prize. She squirmed as a cry fell from her. She wanted it.

“Soon.”

Her frame sagged, the relief palpable.

He stepped up to her. “You feel so good, Miss Dawson. Slicking up my cock perfectly.” His gaze burned into hers. She could barely fathom he was saying such things while keeping eye contact. But he didn’t stop. “I can’t wait until I slide inside you.” He brushed his nose against her jaw, drifting up until he hovered by her ear. “Slick. Tight. Hot.” His tongue dipped out, and she gasped. “To feel you clench around me, your body desperate to keep me inside.” He slid his cock between her thighs. Just once. Just enough to coat him again, to give her a hint of what was to come before stealing it away. “Those muscles fluttering on my cock as your pleasure climbs.”

He kissed her shoulder, then trailed his tongue over her collarbone. Then dropped to her breast. And inhaled. “Fuck me. I can’t⁠—”

His lips closed around her nipple, and her hands fought her ties, desperate to get to him, to hold his head to her. But she couldn’t. She clawed at the bedding behind her, her hips seeking frantically for friction as his tongue swirled over her. He groaned against her, and God help her, he sounded hungry, sounded like he was loving what he was tasting. Her. He was tasting her. Her essence that he’d rubbed all over her skin.

“Duke,” she pleaded.

He pulled away, and she followed him, eyes wide, fearing she’d done something wrong. He rested a palm on her stomach. His mouth glistened in the candlelight. “You. Miss Dawson. Are fucking delicious.”

She had no idea how she found the gall to respond with such impudence when she was a quivering mess. Probably because she was so bloody vexed at him denying her what she needed. She lifted her chin. “Naturally.”

He grinned.

A full, unadulterated grin.

And something inside her chest froze.

It completely altered his visage. Took years off him. Took a weight off him. The hard-edged exterior he wore had thawed away to reveal the disarmingly affable man beneath. Mischief glinted back at her. A playfulness. And she couldn’t handle it.

“Fuck me,” she begged.

“You’re not⁠—”

She stepped up to him, her breasts crashing into his chest, neck craning back to meet his stare. “I don’t care. I need you. Now. I need you in me.” She ground her hips against his. She was past caring how wanton she was.

“I. Need. Now. Hard.” Her growled words sliced through the room, and then silence blanketed them.

That jovial grin was long gone. He dipped his chin in a nod. “Turn around. Bend over.”

She did as he said, chest to her mattress, her cheek resting against the bedding. She shivered.