G-Men: The Series (112 page)

“You’re drunk,” I said immediately. I’d never seen Easton like this. “Do you need help finding your suite?”

“I’m right where I want to be, love,” he said, inching closer to me. “And I’m right where you want me to be as well.”

“That’s
your
opinion,
love
.” I began to move away. “Geez…have another drink, Easton.”

With a quick panther-like movement, Easton lifted me from the edge of the bed, tossing me roughly onto my back in the center, straddling me. He pinned my arms above me, quickly clamping handcuffs around my wrists, attaching them to the spindled headboard. I was going nowhere.

“I’ll scream,” I quietly warned. He wasn’t even touching me, save for my lower body, which he was straddling. Easton’s chest was right above mine, his hands resting on the mattress on each side of me; his mouth was too close to mine and not close enough.

“You won’t,” he quietly replied, as we shared the same breath. His eyes were an almost hurricane gray, lit up with both challenge and dimming disappointment.

I opened my mouth to scream, to ask him what was wrong, to bite him, to kiss him, to tell him to fuck off, to ask him why he ever left. But all of that was lost when I felt his lips touch mine.

Just his lips. It was almost a phantom kiss, his lips barely touching mine, quietly making up their mind. My quick inhale must not have gone unnoticed, because he quickly took my bottom lip between his teeth and began a slow, hard suck on it. My body turned traitor as it bowed up to his, and my mouth was already raising the white flag as it tried to deepen the kiss. But he wasn’t having any of it. He just kept kissing me softly, like some sort of punishment, softly nipping at the corners where I keep my smiles, wrecking me.

I could feel his breath speeding up, unveiling his self-control. Still, he wasn’t giving in. I let out a frustrated moan, rocking my hips against his.

“Stop that,” he told me sternly between kisses.

“
Easton,
” I pleaded, again rocking my hips against the heavy weight of his.

“No.” He gave me a hard nip, drawing out my bottom lip once again, sucking on it to the point of pain. “You want to play games?”

Oh…shit.

“Let’s play.” He lifted his body completely off of mine. Stepping away from the bed, he turned back to me and began to lift his partially unbuttoned shirt up and over his head. I couldn’t help but watch his muscles stretch and flex with the movement.

He was barefoot and shirtless as he leisurely walked over to the side of the bed. I tested the handcuffs as I watched him slowly reach for the bottom of my silk, black nightie. He lifted it teasingly, making sure the pads of his talented fingers gently scraped against the skin of my thighs as he did so.

Another betraying groan stumbled from my lips as I felt him cup my panty-clad pussy, his eyes at half-mast as I felt his middle finger trace my cleft.

“Still want to scream, love?” he asked, as I felt that finger lazily masturbate me.

“Yes,” I let out ragged breath, shooting him a hard glare.

“But you’re so wet, Darcy,” he told me, his eyes on where his hand was, watching my hips subtly lift and fall to his momentum. Easton looked up at me, giving a pirate’s grin, “Or am I to call you Bianca this evening?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

He slowed his finger down, lightening it to a feather-like touch. “Tell me something…” His eyes again on the bunched up silk around my hips, “Were you trying to make me angry tonight? Trying to get back at me, perhaps, for not indulging you in on a lie that you had no business knowing?”

I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I’d never seen him so intense. I remained silent.

I was so fucking stupid.
What did I think would happen when I showed up prancing around apparently like a ghost of his past? Did I honestly think he’d just laugh it off, slap me on the back, and offer me a beverage as we went through my presentation, like the professionals we were pretending to be?

I was too busy thinking about what Eli had said and that he was so fucking right when I felt Easton’s hands suddenly on my breasts.

I watched as he tore where the bodice met the straps, lowering them below my nipples. I closed my eyes, swallowing another moan of frustrated pleasure as he began to roughly knead my now-sensitive breasts, apparently making up for his too-light touches from before.

When I managed to open my eyes, I watched as his head slowly made its way to where his hands were. Almost like he couldn’t help himself. I think that’s what undid me the most, because I let in a sharp breath. He gave me a soft, dark laugh at the sound…Right before covering a nipple with his mouth, and sucking hard on the tip as he used the palm of his other hand to stimulate the other. I felt his teeth pulling on my nipple as he raised his head and looked up at me.

“I just wished I knew you were into role-play, Darcy.” His hand continued its pleasurable assault on my other breast.

I gasped. “What’s your fucking point?”

“The point,” he whispered sinisterly, “is that you’ll get to finish out the day with your audience asking for an encore performance.”

He pushed a little voice into his whisper, giving it an almost mellifluous, lyrical sound, “I’m going to fuck you like I would Bianca. I’m going to speak to you like you are Bianca. And I’m going to
use
you like I would Bianca.”

I felt his lips on the spot right below my ear. “Are you frightened, love?”

“No.” I’d made my decision the moment I sat in the hairstylist’s chair. Go big or go home. Besides, I knew down to my toes that this man would never really hurt me. My heart, yes. My body? No.

Easton took a step back, quickly perusing my body, stopping momentarily on where my dress was torn, and then stopping to study my face.

I raised my chin defiantly. “Do it.” I challenged him.

He looked back at me, in wonder…an easy smile resting on his lips. Something flashed in his eyes as he continued studying me, and before he was aware of it, I saw a vague and saddened disappointment reflect through his eyelashes. Before I could think too much about it, he quickly replaced it with a smirk.

“My pleasure, Bianca,” he said, turning his back to me and making his way to the dresser.

“You’ve displeased me today, Bianca.” I watched as Easton opened one of the drawers and took out two pieces of long, white fabric. “And I
will
punish you.”

Were those always in there?

He took one of my ankles, and I obliged. It was almost sickening that I could feel myself getting wetter, even though I knew it wasn’t me he was seeing anymore. He looped the fabric around my ankles, making quick work of a knot, binding me. He did the same with my other ankle. Finished, he made sure the knots were tight enough to the point where I couldn’t go anywhere, but not to the point where they were uncomfortable. He assessed the handcuffs that were now beginning to tire my arms.

“Comfy?” Easton asked provocatively, his British accent stronger now.

Not waiting for my answer, he deftly unfastened his pants and I watched his hard, solid cock slip out and up. He then threw the pants hard into the darkness, somewhere the light from the bedside lamp didn’t quite reach. He crawled up on the bed, straddling me, reaching up and shredding what was left of my nightwear down the middle and tossing that away, too.

“Christ, you’re beautiful.”

I held still, waiting for him to conclude that sentence with the name ‘
Bianca.’
I mean, it
was
meant for her, wasn’t it? I felt him take my nipple into his mouth once again.

Maybe I just hadn’t heard it.

I moaned, arching my back. God, his tongue was so fucking talented. He used one hand to plump up my breast, and the other made its way up my arms and rested on the shackle one of my hands was imprisoned by.

“I love seeing you like this,” he said, nipping on the underside of my breast. “I always loved tying you up, Bianca. And watching the way your body responded to my every touch.”

His hands and mouth left my body as he sat up, glaring at me menacingly. He made quick work of my panties, and I waited for him to throw those to the side too.

But Easton didn’t do that. I observed as he raised my light blue panties up to my mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered.

I had never…

Waiting for me to raise my mouth to meet the slightly soaked cotton, I obliged. I looked down at him as I sucked on my own heady dampness. His eyes were darkened to an almost light black now. He slowly took them away from my tongue, balling them up in his palm.

That’s when I felt his cock rub at my pussy teasingly. I didn’t see him put on any sort of condom he always made sure to use. But that thought quickly disappeared as I felt warmed metal causing swift friction against my clit.

Oh. My. God.

I was panting now, meeting every shallow thrust his hips were making.

“I never rode you like this, Bianca…” He breathed. “Mmmm…you’ll have to tell me what it feels like.” And with that, he buried himself in me with one quick thrust, all the way to his hilt.

“
Easton!
” I gasped. My head turning to the side, as I bit my lip on a savage moan of intense pleasure.

“Christ,” he moaned, pulling back. “Your pussy’s always so hungry.”

Easton began his next thrust, only taking it halfway. He pulled back again, rubbing that delicious piercing against my clit.

“Please, Easton…”

“No, Bianca.” He looked up at me through hooded eyelids. “This isn’t for you.”

Wait…does that mean…?

“It’s for me,” he said, pouring gasoline over any stupid hope I had.

Easton then showed me a series of thrusts that I was beginning to understand were some kind of pattern. He’d make several shallow thrusts, hitting my clit each time, slowly shattering me. Then he would use one hard thrust that would have me pulling against the restraints, wanting to dig my fingernails into his back in true female gratification.

Every time I did this, he’d let out a guttural groan and tell me things like:

“Take it harder, Bianca…”

He’d tilt my hips up and tell me/Bianca, “Deeper.”

“Such a tight sweet pussy, how did it taste?”

Easton would never let me have any release, though. As soon as I was just slipping right towards the edge, he’d pull back again and switch to the shallow thrusts. It was fucking maddening.

Finally hitting my limit, and once again brought to brink of what would probably be the most violent and delicious orgasm of my life…I began to beg.

“Please…,” I said, breathlessly. “Please, Easton. Let me…”

“Are you ready to come, Bianca?”

“
Yes
.” Another moan trembled on my lips.

That’s when I felt his hands rest on either side of my body, and I was thinking that meant he was about to bring it home.

“Yes, Easton” I murmured, licking my lips. “
Please.
”

I felt him pull back in momentum. And then pull out completely.

“No,” he said, bringing my attention to his face. It was expressionless. He reached for the keys, released my arms, and quickly unfastened my ankles from their binds. I felt tears begin to drown my eyelashes as he re-fastened his pants around his hips. His hands were shaking. And then I watched as he left, never once looking at me.

The last thing I remembered about that night was the sobs that raked my body after I heard the door slam shut. I curled up into a ball and cried, never once thinking about bringing myself to release.

This was my fault.

^{chapter 25}

All thoughts of sleeping in a bit the next morning were quashed when my alarm went off at eight a.m.

What the hell?

I was positive I’d set it for ten-thirty the previous night. Of course, anything was possible in this creaky old mansion of Easton’s. I stretched my arms outside of the bedcovers, interlocking my fingers on both hands, stifling a yawn. And then it hit me. The events of the previous night.

Maybe I dreamt it. No such fucking luck…

How in the hell was I going to face Easton today after what had happened last night? He’d freakin’ played me like a finely-tuned instrument, strumming my body with his expert tongue, fingers and cock, drawing the sensual chords out of me as if he’d written the music himself. He’d purposefully brought my body to the peak of what should’ve been an explosive crescendo. However, with expert timing, his deceptive cadence had served to punish me with the pain of unfulfilled pleasure, leaving me gasping for elusive fulfillment and left with empty dissonance after his cruel departure.

Well done, maestro!

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door. God, I hoped it wasn’t him. He was likely proud of the fact he’d totally tortured me without leaving a mark last night.

“Yes?” I called out.

“Ms. Sheridan? It’s Anna. May I come in?”

“Of course,” I called out, now out of bed and slipping a robe around my naked body.