Unchained (20 page)

“Sit down,” she demanded with a slight push on his shoulder.

He dropped like a stone into an easy chair.

So far, so good.

Producing a chilled bottle of their go-to Moscato, she handed off two glasses for him to hold as she stood at his knees and bent forward to pour the wine and put her post-baby boobs on full display.

Before he could voice an objection or deflect her efforts, Tori was perched on his towel covered lap, one hand clutching the wine glass and the other curled around the nape of his neck, her fingers moving in his hair.

“Shall we toast to Mom and Calder,” she asked silkily.

Draegyn’s eyes narrowed. It was like he just that minute realized what she was up to.

“Woman, are you trying to get me drunk?”

Relieved, she chuckled softly. He wasn’t mad, but he was still wrapped way too tight with caution.

“Actually, no,” she answered before leaning in to lick the shell of his ear. Pulling away, Tori made sure to breathe heavily. “I just thought this would be a nice follow-up to all the champagne earlier.”

He eyed her suspiciously but didn’t offer any comeback. She wasn’t completely ignorant. Draegyn didn’t know it, but he had a tendency to let his guard down when faced with sound reasoning. By answering what was essentially a taunt with a reasonable response, she’d cut off the route his mind was taking.

Good. That was exactly what she hoped would happen.

Holding her glass up, she said, “To engagements. And love. And finding that happily ever after.”

They clinked the crystal, and as the dulcet tone faded in the air, they sipped in silence. Before long, she felt the tension in his body melt away.

His glass drained, he took hers after a final sip and set them aside. “I like this,” he told her in a husky drawl.

She had his full attention now.

Sitting up, she covered her boobs with both hands, gave them a bit of a jostle, and as innocently as possible, asked, “Which part? The bra? The panties? The garter belt? The stockings or the shoes?”

Giving him a bullet list of her arsenal was a smart move for a man like hers. He had an analytical mind. Relying on his strengths and taking advantage of his weaknesses was all she needed as a plan. She was that sure the rest would fall into place.

Draegyn chuckled. The sound was low, deep, and edged with a growl. “Add your hot-as-fuck body and beautiful face to the list and you can check off all of the above.”

Crossing her legs, she rested both hands on her knees, straightened her spine, and beamed at him.

“Daddy like?”

Tracing a finger back and forth on the mounds of her boobs plumped above the bra, he licked his lips suggestively and grunted, “Daddy like very much.”

All she needed was a bowl of milk, and she’d be wiping a paw against her whiskers and purring with delighted triumph. Things were going according to plan until he grabbed her waist and shook her. “Is that what this is, wife? Daddy and his baby girl? Or are you the naughty kitten tonight?”

Tilting her head, she looked at him from lowered eyes and tried not to giggle at how quickly he’d stolen her thunder and taken control.

Shrugging, she told him with a wink, “Baby girl. Kitten. Mistress. Slave. It’s all good.”

And just like that, he was up, out of the chair, her in his arms as he stomped toward the bed.

“All right then,” he growled. Biting her neck, he gripped her tightly and then held her eyes with his. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Mrs. St. John. The first call is yours. We’ll see about the rest.”

She almost laughed. Did he really imagine that was how this was going to go? She’d let him have his alpha fantasy for now.

“Ladies’ choice. Thrown on the bed or lowered to your feet?”

“Feet,” she answered quickly. “These shoes were made for performing!”

He laughed and kissed her. Hard. Then let her slowly drift down his half-naked body till she was standing and plastered to his front.

A smoky tinge fogged her husband’s normally ice blue gaze. Smoke and ice. She was never going to have a better opportunity because, at that precise moment, he wasn’t thinking about being a gentleman. In fact, gentle was a word missing from the libertine musings running around in his mind.

Thank god. Relieved and emboldened by his response, Tori rubbed her hands over his muscled chest and gave an appreciative purr. Tracing the tribal tattoo he and Cam had that wrapped around a bicep, she stroked it lightly until goose bumps spread across his skin.

“My warrior.” Reverence and awe rang in her voice. His bold masculinity incited a flash flood of desire inside her.

Draegyn’s sexy grunt acknowledged the honor she granted him. It was such a lovely moment—so simple and truthful—that she let it fill them up in the following silence.

A
FREIGHT TRAIN
was chugging in his chest. Each heavy pulse of his heart thundered so loud inside his head that Drae picked up the rhythm, heavily panting in time to the beats.

Some part of him was well aware of his surrender to the savage lust gripping him the second he walked into the bedroom and saw his wife. He’d seen her in sexy black lingerie plenty of times before, but something was different about this.

Surrounded by an aura of spine-tingling sensuality, his sexy temptress moved with a mesmerizing ladylike grace so at odds with the wicked gleam shining in her eyes.

Knowing he was helpless once her dreamy body grazed his sent all sense and determination fleeing. Maybe he was powerless against her seductive onslaught and maybe he wasn’t. Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered the second he saw her except …

“My warrior,” she cooed as her soft hand left a silken trail on his skin.

Blinded by lust, he went to grab her elbows, but she anticipated his move and shimmied from his grasp.

“
Tsk, tsk, tsk
.”

The teasing scold sent a reckless thunderbolt straight to his cock.

“Behave, Mr. St. John,” Victoria taunted. Licking her lush lips, she slid her fingers into the front of his towel and pulled on it like a leash. Following obediently, he openly leered at his feisty wife’s mind-boggling ass as she stalked across the plush carpet in a pair of shoes he was pretty sure were illegal in some parts of the world.

Holy fuck. The shoes. Her sexy black stockings. The mind-bending sheer panties and the garter thing. It was called a suspender belt, right? Hell, he didn’t really care. She wasn’t going to give him a vocabulary test. All he was really concerned with was the way she balanced on those heels and how her ass rocked as she walked.

Reaching the side of their bed, she turned to face him and pulled him by the towel until maybe an inch separated their bodies. Automatically lowering his face into the side of her neck, Drae breathed her in.
Mmm.
She was wearing his favorite perfume. Musky and sweet he detected vanilla and spice. He liked the scent because it was bold but feminine—like his wife.

And of course, the name fit so perfectly.
Hypnotic Poison
. So apropos. So suggestive.

Pleased by Victoria’s magnetic seduction, the sound of her low, husky chuckle wrapped tight around his nerves. And his dick. Tight. Maybe too tight, but then again, her laugh always did that to him.

Drugged from her alluring scent, he straightened and drew back in surprise when she reached for something on the nightstand. Intrigued, he tried to focus on her movements. What did she grab?

Lipstick? Drae blinked. And blinked again. When she puckered her fantastic lips and applied the lush red color, he nearly fell at her feet. When finished, she pressed her lips together, and then licked them as she pushed the tube of color into its cap with a snap.

Mistress St. John was in the house, and he was a dead man.

Slipping the tube of lipstick into the front of her bra, he wondered what she was up to.

Running a polished red fingernail down the center of his chest, Victoria pouted like the princess she was and snickered when he shivered from her touch.

“Imagining you in the shower got me thinking.”

He didn’t say anything. Shit, he wasn’t capable of forming words, so he didn’t even try.

She was stroking his chest and biting her bottom lip. His nipples hardened, and she rubbed her thumbs lightly over the prominent nubs.

“You have such a beautiful body,” she murmured with a sexy drawl. “A body I want to mark like a canvas.”

Oh, yeah? He found some words pretty damn quick. Pushing her hair behind her shoulders so he could more fully enjoy the shameless bra, he let her know with a pointed leer that she was free to do whatever she wanted.

“I’m all yours.”

“Are you?” she shot back.

“Always.” His answer was just as fast. Just as vehement.

Seeming satisfied with his response, a sly smile returned to her face. “Good. Then you won’t mind if I do a little drawing on your skin. Mark you as mine.”

Jesus. He was more than game for whatever artwork she wanted to create. Was he a dumbass for expecting her to actually draw on his skin? Yep. That was him.
D.A.D. Dumb Ass Drae
.

First, she delicately nibbled his chin then began pressing her puckered lips down his neck. Feeling Victoria’s warm breath on his bare skin awakened the sleeping wild man inside him. Shoving aside the civilized guy he’d been using as a shield, his wild man took over, encouraging his wife’s pleasurable offensive with an earthy grunt of approval.

With her hands reverently stroking his torso, she continued moving side to side across his collarbone—leaving a trail of hot kisses wherever her mouth landed.

He was going with the vibe, enjoying the attention, when she stopped and stepped back. She was eying him with a hunger his wild man approved of.

“Very nice.” Lifting the tube from her bra, a motion he followed with avid interest, he finally understood what his naughty lover was up to. Uncapping the red stick once more, she applied more color, repeated the lip pucker, pout, and lick, and then smirked like the vixen he knew and loved so well.

Without missing a beat, she leaned in again; only, this time, he grabbed hold of her arms to signal his enjoyment of her sexy assault. After that, it was kiss, nibble, and kiss some more. All over his chest—side to side, neck to navel with occasional pauses to apply more lipstick.

When she was finished, a step back followed by a short, husky chuckle got him looking down to view her artwork.

Her eyes twinkling with playful delight, she tossed the lipstick tube onto the nightstand where it landed with a clink. “Fuck Me Red. It’s a good color for you.”

Witch. He snorted his amusement. And arousal. Thinking he was all big and bad now that wild man was on the scene, Drae put his hands on his hips, gave the erection pushing out the front of the towel a sardonic glance, and drawled, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The last thing he expected was her amused snicker. Oh, yeah—right. He almost forgot. She had her mistress act set to high. In the driver’s seat, he most certainly was not. Like a reflex test, his cock surged with approval.

“Oh baby,” she simpered with a finger under his chin so he’d look her in the eyes. “That’s not how this is going to go.”

Let the games begin!

“Ah,” he growled. “So it’s a big old NO to baby girl, kitten, and slave.”

She nodded; her eyes twinkled some more, and she laughed. “I think you’ve got the picture.”

Slipping to the side, she circled behind him and took a moment to caress his ass, and then moved to the other side of the bed. His side—where she opened the bottom drawer of his nightstand and pulled out two wrapped coils of purple silk shibari rope and tossed them on the bed.

Pointing, she gave him a saucy look and laid down her pleasure.

“I want you.” The pause was deliberate. He knew this ‘cause she winked for emphasis. “Middle of the bed. On your back. Arms out.”

He arched an eyebrow, looked at the silk rope, and arched his brow even more. They hadn’t played any games in a long time, and she wanted to be in charge. Planning to tie him to the thick spindles on the wooden headboard, she wanted him restrained.

Drae liked this game but hesitated. Would he be able to keep some sort of control over the proceedings? With every passing second, he highly doubted it.