The Next Move (17 page)

"Answer the question." The sharpness returned to her voice.

He licked his lips. "Black."

She laughed, letting her lip brush the side of his neck, nearly making him whimper. "Come on, Chris, be more creative than that."

He thought quickly, trying to decide what color it could possibly be.

She spoke against the raised hairs on the back of his neck. "Just think. It’ll come to you." And her presence left his side, the air beside him suddenly chilled with her absence.

         
Handcuffs rattled nearby. The sound was already committed to his memory from earlier, and although it wasn’t as loud and jarring as before, it still set his nerves on edge. He steeled himself against the cold metal on his skin, but even that mental preparation wasn’t enough to keep his blood from turning to ice when the first bracelet closed around his wrist.

He expected her to bring his hand back to shackle it to

his other, but instead, she kept his arm straight. The cuff snapped against a rung below him, the vibration surging up his spine. She moved around him, her presence registering even when she made no sound. A moment later, his other hand was cuffed to the chair in the same fashion. It was an odd choice of positions for his hands, leaving them at his sides rather than binding them behind him. Given the rather sharp edges on the chair back, it was probably the more comfortable option, too.

         
Particularly if he was going to be held this way for any length of time.

         
Her hand touched his knee, pausing just long enough for his startled reaction to come and go, then slid down his leg to his foot. Cold metal encircled his ankle, the cuff creaking as she adjusted the tightness. A second later, a vibration told him that she’d fastened the other end of the handcuffs to the leg of the chair.

         
When she did the same to his other ankle, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end again and a primal sort of panic uncoiled in his gut. Until now, he’d only been bound by a verbal agreement to stay. Now, he was truly bound to this experience.

         
Naked. Immobile. Vulnerable.

         
Completely at her mercy.

         
Queen captures king.

         
A memory flickered through his mind of Kat triumphantly flicking his black king off the board after yet another victory.

         
"White," he said.

         
"What?"

         
"Your corset. It’s white."

         
She laughed. A moment later, the gentle touch of her lips against his almost drove him insane with desire. Just before she completely pulled away, she whispered, "You’re better at this game than I thought."

Twenty Four

         
She walked around him again. Stopping behind him, she put her hands on his shoulders, letting them run down his chest and abs. "Have you ever wondered, Chris, what happens to the king after the queen captures him?"

         
He opened his mouth to speak, but paused when her tongue flicked against his ear.

         
She didn’t wait for him to say anything. "Do you think she takes him back to her castle?" She kissed the side of his neck. "Maybe takes him home to be her little plaything?" Her fingertips made light circles on his abs, making the muscles quiver. "Torments him for her own entertainment?" She raked her nails across his skin.

         
"Oh…fuck…" He breathed. Though the pain startled him, the shudders it sent rippling through him were anything but unpleasant.

         
"I think I like tormenting him for my own entertainment." She flicked her tongue between his shoulder blades as she drew her nails across his pectorals, the conflicting sensations vying for his focus.

         
Then she came around in front of him and sat over him, straddling him and dragging her nails down his chest and abs again. Her touch alternated between almost ticklish to digging her nails in hard enough he thought she’d draw blood, and every bit of it drove him insane with both pleasure and frustration.

         
Then she stopped. Her center of gravity shifted a little, as if she’d leaned back. For a long moment—a few seconds? A full minute? Longer? Nothing happened. She didn’t move. She didn’t make a sound.

Just inches in front of his face, something metal jingled quietly. Then a sound like cloth slowly tearing. No, not tearing. Not cloth. Something…

         
The zipper
.

         
Clenching his fists, he strained against the handcuffs as he imagined her slowly drawing the corset zipper down. He desperately wanted to see her with the corset on, he wanted to see her breasts, he wanted to
see
her.

         
Her body shifted again. He suspected she was leaning forward, a suspicion confirmed when an odd material scraped the side of his face. Metallic. Abrasive. But warm.

The zipper. The side of the zipper. The open zipper which means she’s right there, right there, so fucking close, Jesus Christ
… Just knowing how close her exposed breasts were to his lips made his mouth water.

         
Her body moved, cool air touching his face as she leaned back and widened the gap between them. She touched his face, her hands on either side, letting the very edges of her nails brush across the light stubble of his jaw. The scratching sound, imperceptible in anything but this heightened state of awareness, made his arms prickle with goose bumps.

Then her fingers moved up the sides of his face. They caught the elastic of the blindfold and kept going, pulling it off. He blinked a few times his eyes adjusting to the light. When at last he could focus, he couldn’t breathe.

The corset—white patent leather, just as he’d predicted—was open, held together only by the last inch or so of the zipper, the sides partially obscuring her breasts. Below the zipper, a simple white garter belt hugged her hips, but she had bothered with neither panties nor thong. Everything from hips to mid-thigh was bare except for the thin strip connecting the belt to the white lace of her thigh-high stockings.

Movement pulled his attention to her hands, and his lips parted as he watched her draw the zipper down. It caught briefly at the very end, but she gave it a slight tug, and it separated. Chris’s cock twitched as the corset fell away.

Instinctively, he tried to reach for her, to touch her breasts, but the handcuffs caught his wrists, jingling as he

swore under his breath.

         
"Am I frustrating you, Christian?" she said, grinning.

         
"
Yes
."

         
"Good." She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward, bringing her nipple so close to him that his own sharp exhalation ricocheted off of it and warmed his lips. Then, she backed away just slightly, widening the narrow canyon between her nipple and his lips.
No, come back. Yes, give me room to breathe without tempting me to break the rules. Damn you, Kat
…

         
"My God, I want you." The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them.

         
"I know you do." She bent and kissed him, sliding her tongue between his lips. Unaccustomed to kissing her without touching her, his hands opened and closed, searching the vacant air for her skin, her hair,
anything
.

         
She whispered, barely breaking the kiss. "In fact, I think I’ll let you have what you want."
         

         
His eyes widened and his lips parted with disbelief. She stood, disappeared behind him for a moment, and when she returned, the condom in her hand made him salivate. She was going to fuck him. Thank God, thank God, she was going to fuck him.

         
She stroked his cock slowly, making his entire body tremble. With the devilish grin she gave him, he thought she was going to go down on him, but then she turned her head and tore the condom wrapper in her teeth.

         
"I guess I should help you with this since your hands aren’t readily available," she said with a smirk. He didn’t even have time to think of a smartass retort before she rolled the condom onto his cock.

         
"Oh fuck," he whispered.

         
She turned around so she was facing away from him, then straddled his legs and lowered herself onto his cock. She took him into her pussy inch by agonizing inch. Biting his tongue, he willed himself not to come, to hold back, to abide by her rules, but she felt so good, her tight pussy accommodating his cock like they were made for each other.

Leaning back, she whispered in his ear. "Jesus, you feel good, Chris."

The only response he could muster was a low growl,

one of both relief at being inside her and aggravation that he couldn’t fuck her hard and fast like he ached to do.

         
"If your hands were free," she whispered, rising slowly before coming back down just as slowly on his aching cock. "You could touch my clit." Rose and fell. "Do the things you did to me in the hot tub." Rose and fell again. "And you could do it while you were fucking me at the same time."

         
Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back. "Oh my God…"

         
Kissing his cheek, she moaned, "Your cock is right against my G-spot, Chris." She rose just a little, gasping and shivering. "If your fingers were on my clit…" She whimpered. "You’d make me come."

         
He clenched his teeth. "Then let my hand go."

         
"Why would I do that? My hands aren’t cuffed."

         
He swallowed hard as her shoulder moved against his chest, and a second later, her pussy tightened around his cock in the same moment that she let out a hiss of breath.

         
"Oh Jesus, Kat, you’re going to make me come if you do that."

"No, you’re not allowed to come," she said, her voice strained but still in control. He had never, ever imagined it was possible to be so frustrated, least of all while he was deep inside a woman, but there he was.

         
"If you make yourself come with me inside you—"
 
He groaned as her pussy again tightened around him. "You’re
going
to make me come."

         
"Do you want me to stop?" Her hand moved faster, her pussy gripping his cock as her spine arched off of his chest. Another minute of that, and he’d be gone.

         
"No," he said. "But if you come…"

         
She stopped abruptly. Stopped, and stood. He growled with frustration as the handcuffs kept him from reaching for her and pulling her back to him. Facing him, she licked her lips. Her skin was still flushed with arousal, her breathing rapid and shallow as it always was when she was close to an orgasm, but she was still infuriatingly in control. Of herself. Of him. Of
everything
.

         
"I wouldn’t want to make you come yet, would I?" she said. She leaned over him, resting her hands on his thighs and keeping her lips just out of his reach.

         
He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth and whimpering softly as his body screamed for release.

         
"Look at me."

         
"I can’t."

         
"Why not?"

         
Sucking in a breath through chattering teeth, he said, "Because I’m too fucking turned on to look at you without touching you." He thought her breath caught, but couldn’t be sure.

"I’ll put the blindfold back on," she said. "I’m the one that decides when you see and when you don’t."

Something in her voice resonated through his mind. Something that belied her maddening exterior of calm and controlled.

         
"Look at me, Chris." There it was, that edge, that hint of unsteadiness.

         
He opened his eyes, searching hers for the desperation he heard in her voice, but finding none.
Come on, Kat, give me a sign. Show me you’re losing it as much as I am. I know you are
.

         
That sign came when she took a long, unsteady breath, but it was the only concession she made. "I’m not done with you yet."

         
He held her gaze but said nothing.

         
"I’m going to undo the cuffs," she said, adopting the icy, commanding voice that made him want to lose control. "But the rules still apply. All of them." Her eyebrows lifted. "Am I understood?"