I looked over at Josie, who was hiding a grin with her hand. I tossed her a wink.
“Come on, people,” I said, coming out from behind the bar. “Let’s get a move on. For your own good.”
There was more grumbling, and at least two people said they were going to call my father.
“Well, you can go drink at his house then,” I said, holding the door open.
Rain was pouring down in sheets, and I could barely hear people as they ran past me to their cars. I shivered, that tendril of fear briefly flaring to life again.
But then I locked the door. Turned back inside, and found Josie, perched on the bar, long, tattooed legs crossed in front of her. She crooked her finger.
“Come here,” she purred.
Chapter 16
Josie
It was nice to be chased.
Even for a day. Even for just a night. That heady feeling in the beginning of a new relationship, when the complications of reality feel far away and the only thing you care about—the only thing you can think about—is the other person.
The flowers had been perfect. Romantic but not cheesy. Erotic but still mysterious. And sexy enough to keep me focused on Gabe all day, a heart-racing, butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I’d never experienced a tension so sweet.
And I’d never admit that I liked it. In fact, tomorrow morning, I’d be slipping away before Gabe awoke and returning to my slash-and-burn lifestyle, picking up men and discarding them an hour later.
As my Viking hustled customers out the door, I slid off my stool. Hopped up onto the bar, and crooked my finger at Gabe, who was waiting obediently across the room.
“Come here,” I demanded, and in three long strides, he was standing in front of me. I spread my legs slowly, and he stepped between them. I twisted my fingers in his shirt and yanked him forward.
“Josie,” he whispered, hands gripping my face. His thumb stroked across my lip. “I need you to know. This night is about you. Whatever you demand of me. Whatever you need. I want you to take it.”
I responded by sucking his thumb between my lips, eyes locked on his. Gabe’s expression grew feral as he growled low in his throat.
I’d never wanted someone more in my entire goddamn life.
“Then kiss me,” I said.
And he did.
Although kiss would be an understatement.
My Viking claimed me, wrapping me in his arms like he’d just returned from battle. His big hands circled my hips, palmed my ass, and then I was lifted in the air as he walked me back toward the stairs, leading to the bedroom.
The kiss was endless. I twisted my fingers in his beard, nipped his lip with my teeth. His mouth was ecstasy. His fingers were on my throat, running through my hair, squeezing my thighs. Our tongues slid together, over and over, rough and teasing at the same time. Our moans collided in the brief seconds that we allowed ourselves to break apart. I felt my back hit a wall, my knees spread, and for one delicious moment, Gabe dragged the head of his erection between my legs.
His forehead landed against mine. “I need to go lock up the bar.” He slid me down his hard body, lifted my chin. “I left something for you here. If you want… if you want to use it,” he said, almost nervously. I was a panting, hot mess of desire, not even sure how I’d ended up standing instead of getting fucked against the wall.
“What… where the fuck are you going?” I demanded, breathless, pulling him down again for another heart-stopping kiss. His answering groan hit me low in my belly.
Then he tore his lips away. Backed out the door of his bedroom as he rubbed his palm against his mouth. “One minute, max. I’ll be right back, gorgeous.”
He left, and I caught my breath for a moment, attempting to orient myself, pretending I didn’t get a thrill at the endearment. Spinning on my feet, I turned and saw what Gabe had left for me.
Clarke had laughed cruelly when I’d spilled this fantasy one night, a little tipsy at a hipster bar in L.A. You don’t have what it takes, he’d said, and I’d believed him. Even though, before I met Clarke, that thought would have never even crossed my mind. Defeat wasn’t in my vocabulary—I’d tirelessly obliterated every single obstacle in my way. And if I’d wanted to tie a man to my bed and dominate him all night long, I would have done it.
Yet Clarke’s sneaky voice caused a swift wave of nerves. What was I thinking? Did I even know how to wield control over this Viking of a man?
But in the corner of Gabe’s room, next to his bed, lay four long bungee cords.
For binding. Tying. Restraining.
And just that simple gesture of trust gave me a small shred of confidence to cling to.
Smiling, I picked up the cords, stroking my thumb against the fabric, and stood next to the window and watched the storm outside. Rain was pelting against the window, and the wind sounded hollow and harsh.
“Josie?”
I turned, slowly assessing my Viking.
“I need a safe word from you,” I said, attempting to maintain an edge to my voice. Gabe’s trust in me was exactly what I needed to make this fantasy come true.
Although it was also making me feel more vulnerable than I’d anticipated.
“Tell me what that does,” he said, taking a step closer. I held up my palm, and he stilled.
“Makes me stop, regardless of what I’m doing,” I said firmly since this was important. “Evens out the power dynamic. I don’t want to…” I paused. “I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”
Gabe nodded, giving me a soft, gentle smile. “All right then,” he said, glancing outside. “How about lightning?”
As if on cue, another clap of thunder shook through the walls, reverberating up my spine. I shivered.
“Good,” I said. “Anything else you want to ask me?” I ran the cord through my fingers.
“What do you need first?” he asked.
I leaned against the window, flashed him a smirk. “Take off your goddamn clothes.”
Gabe looked away for a moment, almost shy. Eyes down, then back up at me. I arched an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest.
He gave me a slow, lazy grin—and his fingers flicked open the first button of his shirt.
Behind us, the windows shook with the storm. But in this room, there was only furtive anticipation.
Another flick of his fingers, then another. Every button opened. And then Gabriel Shaw let his shirt drop to the ground.
He was a fucking warrior. Biceps like boulders, shoulders as wide as a house. Thick golden hair covered his chest, down his strong stomach. Gabe’s muscles weren’t fabricated in a gym. They were built with hard-work and honest exertion.
“You’re beautiful,” I said softly before I could stop myself.
“I think you’re stealing my lines,” he grinned. He reached up and undid his hair.
Magnificent.
Then, hands on his jeans. A snap, and they dropped. I sucked in a sharp breath. Thighs like tree trunks and black briefs that couldn’t begin to hide the cock I planned on torturing all night.
I sauntered over. Held his gaze as he slid those briefs down his legs. I stepped closer. Tapped his stomach with my fingernail. His cock surged upward, thick and veined. Big. Deliciously so. I strolled around his body, examining. Taking my time with the naked Viking awaiting my commands.
Gabe’s back rippled and flexed as I trailed my finger up and down the taut muscles. All the way down to the round globes of his ass.
“Am I… okay?” Gabe asked.
I stepped back around.
“You are,” I sighed, “the most perfect man I’ve ever seen. Now, let me see you wrap those fingers around your cock.”
He did.
“Show me how you touch yourself. Here, at night. In this bed.”
Leisurely, I lifted my shirt over my head and tossed it away.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, stroking himself. His fingers worked as I sl
id my jeans down my legs. His hand moved faster, arm shaking.
“You want to taste these?” I cupped my breasts, tweaked the nipples.
“Please,” he begged, but I only shook my head. Worked my underwear down my legs, and Gabe swore beneath his breath. His breathing was growing ragged, motions less coordinated.
“Stop,” I said.
And he did. Immediately.
I couldn’t stop my smile of triumph. The fucking power that flowed through my veins was like nothing I’d ever felt. A man so willing to do my bidding that he’d deny his own orgasm.
Gabe’s chest heaved. I dropped to my knees in front of him. Looked up, and rubbed my cheek against his cock. Starting at the base, I dragged my tongue up to the head. Swirled my tongue around it as Gabe shuddered.
“Josie,” he bit out.
I sucked him into my mouth. He tasted so fucking good. The salty pre-cum. The unique, masculine scent of him. I twisted both hands at the base, dragging up, and his head dropped back.
“It’s never felt like this,” he groaned. “Christ, that’s perfect. Oh, god, that’s so perfect.”
I hummed my approval, working my lips and my fingers faster, heard that ragged breath again.
I stopped.
Stood up gracefully, letting my tongue dance along the ridges of his stomach. Looked up at Gabe, expecting anger or frustration.
Instead, Gabe looked happy. I pulled him down for a kiss, and he groaned as our lips met. Groaned and snarled as I deepened the kiss, working him up. Pushing him closer to the edge.
Then I let go. Took a step back until I felt my thighs hit the bed.
“On your knees,” I commanded.
With a wolfish, satisfied grin, Gabe’s knees hit the floor, and I swore the floorboards rattled.
“Goddammit,” he grunted, licking his lips. His mouth was level with my breasts. “Please let me taste you.”
Twisting my fingers in his hair, I yanked his mouth to my breasts. He yelped in pain, then sighed in overwhelming pleasure. He nuzzled along my nipples. Circled his tongue around the edges before lapping. Sucking. Gabe was moaning louder than I was—and I was practically screaming. Because the piercings did make me more sensitive—made it feel like those same lips were on my clit. His teeth clicked against the metal, and stars shot across my vision.
“Does this feel good?” he asked, swirling his tongue,
I clutched at his shoulders to stay standing. “Almost too good.”
Gabe switched his attention to my other breast, and as he lavished it with attention, I rolled my other nipple against my palm, wet from Gabe’s mouth. The dual sensations had me squeezing my thighs together, seeking relief.
But then I remembered I had Gabe.
“Finger my pussy,” I gasped.
His whispered thank you was almost too much. Until two of his thick, rough fingers curled inside of me, thrusting evenly. I looked down, loved the sight of Gabe’s fingers working between my legs.
“Fuck fuck,” I moaned, rocking against Gabe’s fingers, holding his lips to my nipples. He continued his explorations, using his tongue, his lips, his teeth. All while finger-fucking me with dexterous skill.
“You’re going to make me come this way,” I panted, and his mouth left my breasts to roam up my collarbone. Along my throat, nipping at my jaw. I rocked harder, grinding my clit against his palm.
“Yes, you’re going to… oh, God, yes I think… Gabe…” I wailed, suddenly needing his kiss.
I screamed against his lips as he fucked me through a whirlwind of endless, pulsing sensation—an orgasm that knocked me back onto the bed, arms flung wide.
Gabe’s fingers stayed inside of me, lightly gliding through my folds. So right—and I didn’t even have to command it. I propped myself up on my elbows, staring down at Gabe between my legs.
“That was pretty good,” I teased, still panting. “For the first one.”
But Gabe was no longer in a joking mood. His eyes were pinned to my pussy, fingers moving faster now. I rolled my hips suggestively, and those dark eyes glared up at me.
“Then fucking let me,” he growled.
“Let you… what?” I hooked my legs over his shoulders.
Gabe turned his head, nuzzled my knee. Kissed down my thigh.
“Please let me eat your pussy. Please.”
I’d never seen a man so desperate to please me. My pussy was a goddamn idol, and Gabe was so willing to be on his knees and worshipping it.
I gave him a small, sharp nod, and then I was treated to the most blissful sensation of my entire life. Because Gabe Shaw didn’t just lick my pussy. In absolute astonishment, I watched him devour me like his favorite fucking meal. I’d been prepared with a list of requirements: harder there, less pressure, to your right. The type of instructions I had to provide every lover if he wanted to get me off.
Yet there Gabe was, reading my body like a beloved book. Flicking his tongue in small circles, thrusting his fingers in a timed harmony, my pussy vibrating with the savage groans emanating from his lips.
And our eyes stayed locked on each other—something I never did because it always felt too intimate.
But we couldn’t seem to break eye contact. And I wanted him to see every single burst of pleasure on my face—every pant, every moan. When Gabe sucked my clit into his mouth, I clawed at the bed sheets. Pressed my thighs against his face. A third finger slid inside me, and the fullness plus the suction sent me rocketing into outer space.
I climaxed, and Gabe watched me.
I climaxed, and Gabe saw me.
Three sharp claps of thunder, the sound rolling through the room. Neither one of us moved. I reached down, pressed my palm against his face. He kissed my fingers sweetly, and my heart fluttered in my chest.
“Thank you,” he said again, voice hoarse. But I could only nod, desperate to regain control of this night. Of this epic fantasy-session with a stranger.
Not two lovers.
“Up,” I said, sliding off the bed.
My legs were shaking. Gabe looked up at me as I reached down, grasped his wrists, and yanked. He stood smoothly, towering over me.
I shoved him backward onto the bed. Grabbed one of the cords and secured his wrists to the headboard, over his head. Sitting back on my knees, I admired my handiwork: my bound warrior.
I felt like a queen, basking in the look of reverent submission Gabe was giving me. Worship couldn’t begin to explain it, the way his body kept trying to arch toward mine. I ran my fingers up his chest, just over his heart, and yanked on a handful of his chest hair.
Gabe hissed in a breath, barely concealing a snarl.
But no safe word.
I yanked again. Threw my legs over the middle of his chest. Rubbed my bare pussy against him, letting him feel how wet he’d made me. Gabe pulled at the cords so hard I thought they’d snap in half, his biceps straining with the effort.
With a sly grin I turned around, facing his feet. Looked behind me and caught him staring at my ass hungrily. Bending down, I ran my tongue along his cock again.
The headboard shook.
“Gabriel,” I moaned. “You’re still not allowed to come. You know that, right?”
I teased my fingers around the head, then took the length of him to the back of my throat. Held him there and hummed.
“Goddammit fuck Josie.”
“What was that?” I whispered against him, taking a quick breath.
Then I took him deep again. I hummed against him, gliding my lips up and down.
This time, the whole bed rattled. And then a strangled: “I won’t come, I won’t… Christ, I’ll wait.”
I let him go with a pop.
“For what?” I turned back around, leaning down.
My hands roamed over his restrained biceps, the muscles flexing and jumping. I kissed along his neck, feathering my breath over his ear. The sound of Gabe’s masculine groans, his head tilted back in pleasure, was so fucking erotic I was already balanced on the preci
pice of orgasm.
Again.
“Gabe?” I prodded, hovering my lips over his.
A crooked, sexy grin. “For permission. I come when you let me, gorgeous.”
I kissed my Viking. Holding his head in my hands, I could feel the tremors of his muscles as he fought against the restraints. When we broke apart, the look of absolute trust on his face had my heart fluttering again like the traitor it was.
Of course I had what it fucking took.
So I grabbed the headboard and lowered myself right over Gabe’s mouth.
He inhaled, then let out a guttural groan. “In case I didn’t make it obvious before,” he said, giving me a long, wet lick, “you taste like fucking paradise.”
“I know,” I sighed, letting my head fall back. “And you’re going to fuck me with your tongue until I come on your face.”
“Fuck yes,” he growled as I snapped my hips, grinding against him, and it was so fucking hot. So hot to watch this giant of a man tied to a bed as I fucked his face. The bed rocked, his fingers gripped the headboard, shaking as I writhed above him.
Then his tongue plunged inside me.
And I screamed.
Chapter 17
Gabe
There was no end to the pleasure.
My world was complete and total submission, burying whatever thoughts or demands that usually floated up when I fucked someone and instead letting Josie take it all.
My world was this bed and the intriguing sensations of rope against my skin. Pain and pleasure, denial and release.
I was yearning for her whispered “stop.” Even though, at this point, my climax was on a goddamn hair-trigger. I’d never denied myself an orgasm before. Never experienced the strangely erotic sensation of being so fucking close and then… smothering it.
Yet that frustration was only making the experience hotter, letting my tattooed vixen use my body like a sex toy as the cord cut into my wrists and Josie’s nails scraped down my chest.
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