“No, that was your tits. Your mouth is what kept me coming back.”
I bust out laughing. “I hope that wasn’t an attempt at a pun, because if it was, it was terrible.”
“I don’t know. I thought it was pretty clever,” he says, and I can hear his smile.
The thought of it causes something inside my chest to swell. I feel so incredibly high in this moment and the cause of it is lying right beside me.
“I like you today,” I confess.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
Turning onto my side, I prop my head on my hand. It’s too dark to see him clearly, but his silhouette against the stark white of the sheets gives me enough of an impression of him. Even that limited visual manages to be imposing. Even in a king sized bed, he takes up more than half of it, his big body nearly stretching from the headboard to the footboard.
Finding his bare chest, I spread my fingers out, caressing the dusting of coarse dark hairs. “I didn’t want to come with you to Maine, but I’m kind of glad I did. You’ve been amazingly agreeable since the conference.”
“Agreeable huh?” Wrapping his fingers around my wrist, he stills my hand. “You caught me in a good mood, Josephine. Don’t let it cloud your judgment. I’m not a man who plays nice or fair.”
Taking back control, I drag my hand down over his stomach. His grip tightens as though he might stop me, but he doesn’t. “No, you’re neither of those things, Rebel. I hate to break it to you, but I figured that out a long time ago.”
“And you still come back for more,” he rumbles.
“I still come back,” I agree. Gently, my hand slides beneath the cool sheet. Finding him naked, I wrap my fingers around his growing shaft. His chest rises and falls heavily as his breathing picks up. Leaning down, I lightly graze his whiskered cheeks with my lips until I locate his, then whisper against them, “Something you should know about me, Rebel. I don’t play fair either.”
Holding him firmly in my hand, I pump him from root to tip, relishing his groan of pleasure. Then, with practiced control, I climb on top of him, fitting my naked skin tight up against his, and slowly guide him inside of me.
“Tonight,” I say, moaning around the word as he hits deep, “I want to be in control.”
For a moment, his silence makes me think he’ll say no, but to my shock, Rebel tells me, “My tie is in the bathroom. Go get it.”
I don’t know what his intent is, but I’m eager to find out. Easing off him, I rush to retrieve it. When I return, Rebel’s deep growl of anticipation ignites mine. I hold up the tie in question and purr, “Hands over your head, Mr. Scott.”
TWENTY
“Kindly untie me.”
I expected Rebel to wake up early—he’s always up before the sun—which is why I ordered room service. I figured he’d wake up as soon as I opened the door to accept the delivery, but our acrobatics last night must have worn him out.
He didn’t even stay awake long enough for me to untie him last night. So, I left him bound to the bed and used his body as a mattress.
I’m eating pancakes in bed, my legs folded, creating a cradle to support my plate. Staring him in the eye, I lift a forkful of fluffy goodness to my mouth. “Mmm, I don’t know. I kind of like having you at my mercy for once.”
His dark eyes narrow to slits as I pop the bite into my mouth. Licking a drop of syrup from my lip, I ask him, “Are you hungry? I ordered breakfast.”
“The ties, Josephine.”
“First, tell me. Pancakes or eggs? I’ve always wondered what kind of man you are. Or are you the scotch-on-the-rocks-‘cause-it’s-five-o-clock-somewhere kind of guy?”
He tugs at his bindings, testing their strength. I’m no girl scout, but I did a pretty good job and they don’t budge. He huffs in annoyance and relents. “Pancakes.”
I love when a man gives in to me.
Rising onto my knees, I fork up a large triangle of pancake and drag it through the puddle of maple syrup. “Open.”
“I’m not a child,” he grumbles. “Let me up so I can eat it my damn self.”
“I may swear you’re the devil sometimes, but you’re certainly not damned,” I muse, ignoring his request. I don’t get many opportunities to harass this man, so I’m taking this moment and running with it. “Now, shut up and let me feed you.” Lifting the fork, I hold it high in the air.
If looks could kill...
“You think you’re the one in control here, pussycat?” he asks, his voice pitching low and dangerous. It’s the same tone he uses in bed, which gets my wheels turning in a whole new direction. “Think again.”
Sighing, I rest the fork back on the plate. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with me being in control last night,” I remind him. “In fact, if memory serves, weren’t you the one who suggested the restraints in the first place?”
“Role reversal is common practice in normal, healthy relationships. Just remember who put you in the driver’s seat, Josephine. I still have control, even when it seems like I don’t.”
I regard him with a certain level of amusement. In the short time we’ve spent actually getting to know one another, he’s shown me that he’s capable of more than just a quick roll in the sack. He can be funny, he knows how to laugh, and beyond all that macho bullshit he hides behind, I can tell he’s a pretty incredible guy when he chooses to be.
“Control, control, control. Blah, blah, blah.” Lifting the fork again, I grin, dialing the happiness up another notch. “Now, open wide. Here comes the airplane!”
Rebel’s murderous thoughts reflect back at me through those black-as-night eyes. That look used to scare me, but to hell with it. I know no matter how rough and domineering he can be Rebel will never hurt me.
Predictably, Rebel’s mouth fuses shut. I hold the pancake above his lips, waiting with what I know is a humongous grin on my face. “Awe, someone’s being stubborn this morning,” I coo.
Syrup drips onto his lips, and his eyes flash darker. He’s ticked off beyond measure, and I’m laughing my ass off when any sane person would be hightailing it for Canada about now.
“Open up. Big boys need their energy.” He doesn’t open, so I begin poking his mouth with the pancake. Poke, poke, poke. His lips glisten with sticky syrup, which sparks an idea.
Dropping the fork back onto the plate, I set the food aside. Flipping the blankets back, I pause at the sight of his hard cock standing at attention. It appears he’s not so mad after all.
Dressed in the shirt he wore the day before, I pull it over my head and cast it to the floor. Slinging my leg over his hips, I give him a sultry look as I settle myself over him, nestling his hard length between us. Placing my hands on either side of his head, I lean forward, flattening my breasts to his chest.
In this position, our faces are less than an inch apart, forcing us to make eye contact. “You’re being awfully quiet this morning. Cat got your tongue?”
“I’m plotting all the ways I’m going to punish you when I get free.”
“Who says I’ll free you?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“I do, unless you enjoy being pissed on.”
Glancing down between us, I wonder... “Do you...?”
“It’s morning. Of course, I have to take a piss. Did you actually think the wood was because you were flashing me your tits? Now let me out of these fucking ties before I get mad.”
Hell, I thought he already was. It must be Rebel’s default setting.
Thoroughly rebuffed but refusing to allow it to get to me, I consider my options. “How about this? I’ll let you go if you promise to let me feed you when you come back,” I propose, wondering if he’ll accept the offer.