Bind Me Close: 3 (Knights in Black Leather) by Cerise DeLand Page A

her stomach, caught her up in his
arms and slid his turgid cock along her seam. Spreading kisses on her back, he
inserted his shaft in her cunt from behind and fucked her with a fury. Fused to
him she bit her lip as he found her clit and drove her up to another jolting
orgasm. She came with a groan, her release running through her like liquid
flames.
    At once she was on her back again. This time he clasped her
legs and wrapped them around his hips. He humped her, his teeth bared, his hair
dipping low over his brow, his rhythm fierce and enthralling.
    He came with a shout, his hips pistoning, her core milking
him, holding him, never letting him go.
     
    Was she asleep or passed out? What an ass, to fuck her as
though the world was on fire. She’d been down for the count today and he hadn’t
even fed her before he hustled her off to his bed and rammed his randy prick
inside her.
    He leaned over her, the smell of her fragrant body mixed
with the potent musk of their sex filing his nostrils. She’d been fantastic,
fun. She was spontaneous, free with him. Hope that’s just for me. With me.
    He frowned, reaching out to push back a lock of her long
black hair from her brow. The elegant cheekbones, the endless depths of her
umber eyes, the bronze cast to her skin were all Comanche female. Who knew he
could want this woman, this stranger, as ferociously as if she had always
belonged to him? He felt like a buck with her. An animal, ready to rut, needy
to take and claim and savor.
    What was wrong with him? He liked his women with humor and
intelligence. Eager for him. Coming to him at the drop of a hat. Ready to go to
the Bravado Club at a moment’s notice and be his sub for the night in whatever
kink he had in mind. He was certain Willow Turner had never even heard of
Dominants or submissives. Wouldn’t know a shibari master like his cousin Case
from a bondage exhibitionist like himself.
    So what attracts me to her? What’s right with her that I
love? Like. Need. That very lack of experience? Or that sweet edge to her? Her
assertive streak that challenges me but never tries to conquer me?
    “Don’t overthink this,” she whispered, her luminous brown
eyes admiring him. With one hand she smoothed his hair from his brow and cupped
his nape to draw him down and kiss him. “Take it for the explosion it was.”
    “I don’t do explosions like this with just anyone.”
    She cleared her throat. “Good to know.”
    “My sex is periodic. And planned.”
    She grimaced. “That I don’t think I want to know.”
    He curled her close and she felt like liquid fire against
him. His cock was twitching, ready to go again. “I want you to. This was
terrific and I don’t want you to hear stories in town that ever take that away
or change what this is.”
    “Okay,” she said, tentatively. Her smile was small and
plastic as she tried to rise. “I’ll chalk this up to a jolly good time.”
    “Not what I meant to imply.” He stopped her with a hand to
her wrist. “Let me explain.”
    She frowned and looked away. “Since I’m a captive audience,
do it.”
    “I’ve been divorced for nearly twenty years. Never
remarried. Never thought about it. Never found anyone I wanted for any length
of time. I’ve had regular partners but no one I…valued.”
    She wrinkled her brow. Her gaze darted over his features.
    Doing a rotten job of explaining, Saxon. “In all
those years I haven’t been a monk.”
    “That’s not a revelation.” Cool, almost indifferent, she
cast a long, appraising glance over his face. “Besides, I doubt many women
would let you remain celibate.”
    “Thanks for the compliment.”
    “You’re welcome. It’s true, though, isn’t it?”
    “Very. But for the purpose of being up close and real with
you, it’s irrelevant.”
    She stared at him, her brow wrinkled. “How’s that?”
    “Women like me, yes, but—”
    “Oh, gee. How did I guess?”
    “I like you more than anyone in a long time.”
    She sniffed.