But the ability to rationally argue any philosophical questions regarding his life left him as she sauntered around the bed, her heated gaze fixed on his. He made to reach for her, the linen wrapped around his wrist halting his movement, reminding him that he could do little except wait for her to have her way with him.

The mattress dipped as she climbed onto it, never averting her eyes from his. God, but she was beautiful in her confidence that she could undo him. And she would. He knew that as surely as he knew that when she was done with him, he was going to reverse the tables, and have her bound and sprawled for his enjoyment. And hers.

Strange how they seemed connected, how the more he gave to her, the more he gained for himself.

Slowly, she trailed her fingers along his side, from the strip of cloth binding his ankle, along his calf, up his thigh, over his hip, up to his rib—

He gave a little jerk.

She looked as though he’d just handed her the Koh-i-Noor diamond. “You’re ticklish.”

“A bit.”

Leaning down, she pressed her open mouth, hot and dewy, against his lowest rib. He closed his eyes as the warmth seeped into him. “Only to fingers.”

Lifting her head, she arched a brow and ran her tongue over her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Straddling his stomach, she eased up, bringing those luscious breasts nearer. Again, he reached, testing the limits of his tether. “Perhaps you could give one hand the freedom to touch you.”

Her smile was that of a saucy minx. “No.”

Lowering herself, she rubbed her breasts over his chest before bringing one to his mouth. “You may lick.”

He did so without hesitating, circling the pink areola with his tongue, before flicking at it. She dropped her head back, moaned.

“You’re killing me,” he rasped.

Her look was sultry, that of a woman relishing her power. “I’ve not even begun.”

Pushing herself down until her knees were resting between his, she sat back on her heels and wrapped her fingers around his straining cock. “I’m amazed by the silkiness of it. I can’t decide if it feels like satin or velvet.”

She kissed the head. He jerked.

“Ticklish?”

“No.”

“You like that, then.”

“Yes.”

Then she did what he’d done with her breast and circled her tongue over him. He groaned low, deep.

“Do you like that?” Her tone was rife with innocence.

“God, yes.”

“And this?”

She took him in her mouth and he very nearly came off the bed, might have if he hadn’t been secured to it. How he longed to tangle his fingers in her hair, grip the sheets. She was all heat and slow strokes that drove him wild. He loved the feel of her closing her lips around him and sucking. “Oh, you wicked vixen.”