Wild Temptation (16 page)

When I step outside, a sleek, black car is waiting for me. The driver, who I presumably spoke to on the phone, gets out of the car and opens the back door for me.

“Miss Warren. My name is Allen. I’m Mr. Stone’s driver whenever he requires our services.”

“Please, call me Liv.” I smile.

“Liv.” He returns my smile and motions for me to get in.

I do, settling back into the plush, leather seat of the BMW. Even this car reeks of wealth—of privilege. Of more than I’m used to.

I mean, shit. I’ve only recently upgraded my 2001 Honda to a 2010 Audi. This car doesn’t feel like it’s ever been driven before.

Are you coming yet?

I swing my legs up onto the seat, cross them at the ankles, then snap a picture. I send it to him with a grin on my face.

Tease.

My grin widens. I tuck the phone into the pocket of my coat and sit upright again just as the car comes to a stop. Of course—I forgot that his apartment was so close to mine, even if they are miles apart in terms of value.

“Miss Warren.” Allen opens the car door, and just as I swing around to get out, I hear his voice.

“Thank you, Allen. I’ll take it from here.”

It’s smooth and sleek, his accent crawling over me. When I look up, it’s into his eyes. Tyler takes my hand and tugs me up. I flatten my free hand against his chest and meet his eyes.

“Hi.”

The car rumbles away behind us, and Tyler’s lips quirk. “Hi.” He pulls me into the building after him. My heels click against the marble floor as we walk, and he glances back at me more than once with heat in his eyes.

The elevator ride is suffocating. The walls seem to close in on us as we travel upward. Anticipation swirls of what’s to come. Excitement buzzes across my skin, affecting my whole body until I can feel my pulse thrumming at my neck.

The doors open slowly. Too slowly. It seems like an hour passes until they’re completely open, and I take a deep breath when we step out. My fingers tingle where they’re wrapped in Tyler’s, and I feel the loss immediately when we enter his apartment and he drops my hand.

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up. “I’ll get you a drink,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers across my cheek.

No need.
I wait until he’s disappeared into the kitchen and unbutton my raincoat. I hang it next to his on the peg and give my boobs a quick adjust in the cups of the camisole. I pause for a moment.

Do I wait here? Do I follow him? Ross never bothered with drinks. It was straight to the bedroom.

Okay, seriously? I’m standing in the apartment of a guy who demanded I bring a scarf so he can tie me up and I’m worrying about fuck-buddy etiquette. It doesn’t get much crazier than that.

Silencing my train of thought, I whip the scarf out of my mac pocket and curl one end of it around my hand. The soft material slips against my skin, and I briefly wonder how effective it’ll be at keeping my hands tied.

With that new, sexy thought in mind, I make my way to the kitchen and stop in the doorway. I lean against the doorframe and run my eyes over him. His gingham shirt is well-fitting, stretching across his shoulders and pulling in at his trim waist. The sleeves are rolled up and sitting just below his elbows, the material not generous enough to hide his biceps. I can even see the tightness of his ass beneath his Levi’s.

“Here,” he says, turning around.

Heat flares in his eyes when they find me, and his tongue flicks out across his lips, wetting them. His gaze crawls over me, taking in the obvious curve of my chest thanks to the push-up bra of my camisole. It slides over where the material parts at my stomach, leaving my skin bare, and hovers at my lace panties.

I run the scarf through my fingers, keeping my eyes on him, as his eyes glance down my legs and finish their perusal of my body. “You said wear the pink camisole. You never said anything about wearing clothes.”

“You’re correct,” he says huskily, setting the wine down and walking toward me. “And you brought a scarf.”

“What can I say? I’m good at following orders.”

“Mmm.” He takes my jaw between his thumb and forefingers and tilts my head up. His eyes are dark, seductive. “I like the sound of that.”

His hand falls away, and I loop the scarf around his neck. “Most of the time, anyway,” I whisper, pulling his face down to mine.

His lips are hot, and it takes him just seconds to take the kiss from a gentle brush to a thorough exploration with his tongue. Each stroke of his tongue against mine ignites a fire deep in my belly that spreads outwards to every one of my limbs.

Without breaking the kiss, Tyler takes the scarf from me and wraps it around my back. He runs it down my body, sliding across my back and over my butt. When it skims the top of my thighs, he pulls my hips toward him with a jerk. His erection pushes into my stomach, hard and ready, and I drop my hand to cup him over his jeans.

I squeeze him lightly and he groans into my mouth, pushing his hips into my hand. Quick as a flash, he grabs my hands and takes them away from his body, spinning me around.

“You appear to have a problem with remembering who’s in control,” he breathes into my ear, sucking lightly on the tender spot below it. “Do you need reminding again so soon?”

“No. I’m not one of your bitches, remember?”

He palms one of my butt cheeks and squeezes. Hard. I clench my jaw together.

“I told you, Liv. You’re my only bitch now.” There’s a rumble of laughter in his husky tone. “You’re so feisty. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

He releases my ass and takes both of my hands, setting them at the base of my back. I hold my breath when the scarf brushes against my wrists. Leisurely, like he has all the time in the world, he wraps the soft material around my wrists in a figure eight and knots it tightly.

My hands are bound, and I’m amazed how something so simple is leaving me vulnerable and open to him. But I’m not afraid—far from it.

I’m exhilarated. Excited.

“There.” He pushes my hair to one side and presses a kiss to the back of my neck. “That should remind you who’s in charge here.”

“I still have a mouth,” I whisper.

“And it will be put to very, very, very good use.” He walks in front of me and traces my bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes on my mouth. “When I say so.”

I part my lips and take his thumb into my mouth. I suck lightly and graze my teeth along the pad, watching as his pupils dilate.
Yes, I can play the game, too.

He pulls his hand from my mouth, running his fingers down my neck. The tips of them ghost across my chest, barely touching me, and slide down my stomach, dipping at my navel. He pauses when they skim the top of my panties. His lips curve as he moves his hand lower and brushes my clit.

I stay standing despite the jolt of pleasure that sears through me. My pussy aches with wanting him to go lower, beneath the lace, to touch me properly.

But he doesn’t—he pulls his hand away and stands behind me again. He hooks two fingers through the scarf binding my wrist and pulls me backward. His body never touches me, only his fingers. I twist my head to see where we’re going, but he stops me.

“Look forward.”

I swallow. My body is alive—so alive—and I’m trembling with anticipation. He shuts a door and spins me around. My eyes fall on a king bed in the middle of the room, the dark sheets contrasting the lightness of the rest of the room.

I study the rest of the room, feeling Tyler’s hot breath cascading down my neck the whole time. He steps forward, pressing his front against my back. His erection rubs against my hands, but the way he’s tied them means I can’t touch him, no matter how much I want to.

And I do. I want to.

He skims his hands down my sides to my hips. With a firm grasp on them, he brushes his nose against the inside of my thigh, prompting me to open my legs slightly. I can feel his breath on one thigh, his cheek on the other, and the nudge of his nose by my panties.

“You’re so wet already. I can smell you. I can see it. There’s a little damp patch on these panties.” He pulls them down my legs and guides my feet out of them.

After taking back the same position, he urges me to open my legs wider. I do, thankful for his grip to balance me. My legs are trembling so hard that I don’t think I could take a step without stumbling.

He touches his tongue to me, running it lightly over my opening. “You like having your wrists tied, babe?”

He licks me again and I let out a shuddery breath.

“Answer the question.” He pulls back and nips my butt.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good.” He kisses the spot where he just bit me and soothes it with his tongue. The feeling is strange, but it’s a nice one. It’s close to erotic, especially when he traces his lips along the curve of it and finds my pussy once more.

The strokes of his tongue are long and forceful. Every time the tip of it rubs against my clit, my breath stops, my heart pounds, my lips part. It’s a fleeting feeling, lasting barely a second at a time, but it’s the strongest one. It’s the most intense and consuming, and I find myself tilting my hips back so he can access it more easily.

Tyler laughs against me, the sensation akin to vibration, and I moan. Wishing I could get my hands free, turn around, and fist his hair. Wishing I could hold him against me—

Until he brings his hand around to the front and presses two fingers against me at the same time that he dives his tongue inside me. It’s sudden and unexpected and so fucking good. My fingers clamber for him as the first wave of pleasure racks my body. I’m almost fighting the restraint, needing to touch him, to hold him against me.

To make sure he doesn’t stop what he’s doing until I come explosively, coating his tongue with my juices.

And I do. When it hits, it hits. With only one hand free, Tyler can barely keep me upright. My legs are weak like Jell-O and my eyes burn with the pleasure.

There’s something about his mouth on me and not being able to see him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’ve never come that hard through oral. Ever.

“You taste good,” he says, giving me one last, long lick.

I shudder. My clit is so tender and swollen that the barest touch is arousing and intense. “I want to taste you.”

“And you will. Just not right now.” He stands and spins me by my hips. His eyes bore into mine, strong and steady and certain and full of arousal. If I couldn’t tell it from his eyes, the bulge in his pants would tell me.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he pushes me back toward the bed. I sit on the edge, looking up at him.

Without answering, he undoes the buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off, leaving it to fall to a heap on the floor. But that’s not what has my attention—not really. That’s the nimble way his fingers undo his belt and jeans button.

My fingers twitch with wanting to do it for him. Especially when he eases his jeans and underwear down over his hips. His erection springs free, long and hard and gorgeous, and I lick my lips. My eyes are stuck on his cock, desire pooling deep inside me.

He walks forward, his hips level with my face, and wraps his hand around himself. Slowly, he strokes, and I draw in a long breath.

“You really want this? You really want to taste me?” He moves his hand up and down himself, his grip steady and certain. “You want my cock in your mouth?”

I nod.

“Say please.”

Bastard.
“Please.”

He steps forward again so the head of him is hovering right in front of me, teasing me, taunting me, and somehow, I know better than to move forward.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps.

I’ve barely parted my lips when the end of his cock nudges at my mouth. I open wider, letting him in. I can taste a drop of pre-cum on my tongue, salty and sweet at the same time. I swirl my tongue around him, feeling the velvety softness of his skin as I draw him deep into my mouth.

He hisses out a long breath when I suck so hard that my cheeks hollow. He pulls away forcefully, leaving me staring up at him openmouthed.

“I’d tell you to climb on the bed, but you can’t,” he mutters with amusement. He pushes me back and slides me up the bed, sitting me up when I’m in the center. He kneels behind me and puts his hands on my waist. “Kneel up.”

I lift myself up and he moves forward. His knees are between mine—together, where mine are wide apart. He releases my waist and grabs the bottom of the camisole. He pulls it over my head in one swift, easy movement. My breasts bounce free, settling in front of me.

One hand flattens on my stomach. “Back down. Slowly,” he breathes into my back.

I close my eyes at the feel of his cock nudging my opening.
Yes.
This is what I want. I want to feel him inside me, stretching me, filling me. And he does. Slowly, I lower down and he pushes up, our bodies meeting and fusing together.

Tyler moves my hips, guiding me up and down, his fingers digging into my skin. He doesn’t move, leaving me riding him, taking him deeper and deeper every time until he’s buried completely inside me.