Wilde Thing

Chapter 11

Steve disconnected his evening call with Liz, ending another night of phone sex along with a second attempt to express his interest in meeting Liz in person.

Tonight, she'd delighted and aroused him with a personal fantasy of her own that had stirred his libido into a raging inferno of need. Even now, as he lay on his bed, his cock was granite-hard, full to bursting beneath his boxer shorts, and lust clawed at him as he replayed Liz's provocative fantasy in his mind while he waited another ten minutes for her to sign out and get to her car.

She wanted to be chased, captured, and forced to submit to a virile, lusty pirate, a man she secretly desired but would never admit to being attracted to, because it was so forbidden. In explicit, vivid detail, she'd pulled him into her enthralling tale, explaining the various methods by which the bold, dominant pirate would stake his claim on her, and how he'd possess her in wild, wicked, thrilling ways. But she wouldn't be his prisoner against her will, because despite all rules of propriety, she wanted the dark and dangerous pirate. And in the end, she'd surrender to him with abandon.

It was an erotic, exciting fantasy Steve wouldn't mind enacting for her. In fact, he was already considering the different ways to bring her private adventure to life.

For another few minutes he let his mind create various tantalizing scenarios; then he picked up the portable phone again and punched in her cell phone number. The line connected on the second ring.

"Hi there," she said, her voice soft with fatigue and not nearly so perky as she'd been with him just fifteen minutes ago. Her exhaustion wasn't surprising, considering the long day she'd had, and it was after midnight.

"Nice fantasy tonight," he complimented.

"You liked that, did you?" she murmured huskily, sounding pleased at her ability to seduce him.

"Oh, yeah, I liked. Very much." The hard-on that was still raging at full mast was testimony to her extraordinary talents to weave such sexy, tempting tales. "Would you like me to buy an eye patch?"

Her gentle laughter tickled his ear. "You look enough like a pirate without one."

He shifted on his bed, trying to find a cool spot on his sheets for his overheated body. "You sound tired."

"I am." She sighed, the slow exhale backing up her claim. "I think this week of working double shifts is finally catching up to me."

"You're probably right." He heard her stifle a yawn and smiled. "And today was busy, too."

"But well worth it." Honest appreciation laced her voice, making him glad he'd extended the invitation to his father's party, and that she'd accepted.

He'd only meant to share the day and his family with her, to distract her from everything else going on in her life. But she'd fit in so well, and having her meet his brothers, parents, and other relatives had evolved into something more significant for him. The emotions filling his chest definitely conflicted with the years he'd spent avoiding any kind of serious relationship with a woman, yet Liz wasn't like any other woman he'd dated since his divorce.

He had no idea what would happen between them once they located her cousin and the case was over, but he hoped Liz would be open to pursuing their relationship and seeing where it led them. A huge step for him, but one he was willing to take with her, because he just couldn't imagine letting her go.

"Tell you what," he said, making a split-second decision on both their behalf. "I'm kinda beat myself, so why don't we call it a night?"

"You don't mind?"

"Of course I don't mind." He ignored the throbbing in his groin that protested otherwise, telling himself a night of abstinence wouldn't kill him. "As much as I'd love to come over and be your pirate, I think you need a good night's rest more." And he needed time and distance to sort through his growing feelings for her.

"I can't argue with you there."

Steve couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed, but imagined she was a little of both.

"By the way," she went on, "I checked my schedule at The Ultimate Fantasy, and I have tomorrow night off, but I'll be spending the entire day at the cafe, getting caught up on paperwork and inventory for next week."

"I have things to do at the office, too." Sitting up on the edge of the mattress, he stared at his reflection in the mirrored closet doors across from him, which conjured up an idea or two in terms of her pirate fantasy. "I'm sure I'll talk to you at some point tomorrow."

"You know where to find me."

"That I do." He chuckled and regretted that he wouldn't be seeing her tonight, but knew it was for the best. "Drive home safely, and dream of me when you fall asleep tonight."

"Believe me, I already do."

Liz finished balancing her business checking account and was overjoyed to find that after all her expenses, she actually had a decent amount of money left over. According to her profit-and-loss statement, business was up by a good ten percent from the previous month, all great news since she'd spent the past three years struggling to claw her way out of debt. Gradually, she was getting there.

Now paying off her aunt and uncle was her main priority, and she was whittling away that financial obligation little by little, as well. She wrote them out a check, adding a couple of hundred dollars more to the monthly amount they'd agreed upon, because she could afford to do so this time around. She also earmarked another few hundred to add to the money she owed Steve for his PI services. Another debt she intended to pay off in full.

Satisfied with her day's work, she closed her accounting journal and slid it back into the office safe behind her desk. It was nearing seven-thirty in the evening, and while it had been a busy, productive Sunday, she felt more exhilarated than tired, because she'd gotten so much done.

She was surprised, however, that she hadn't heard from Steve. When she'd called her answering machine at home that afternoon to check her messages, there had been a call from Antonio, asking her to meet him at The Ultimate Fantasy Monday morning at eleven A.M., saying that there was an advancement opportunity within the company that he wanted to speak to her about. She'd been excited to have gotten the call both she and Steve had been waiting for, and had immediately dialed his cell phone number, only to get his voice mail. She'd left him a brief message but hadn't heard back from him yet- and that had been nearly three hours ago.

With a sigh that held too much disappointment, she picked up the stack of paid receipts and statements and began filing them in the old secondhand cabinet against the far wall. The task was a mindless one, allowing her thoughts too much freedom to stray and wonder about where Steve was, and what he was doing. One day apart and she missed him, more than was prudent, considering that such a wistful emotion had no business playing any part in their short-term relationship.

Her heart thumped hard in her chest, making her breath catch with deeper meaning, as was happening much too often lately. She shook herself hard. She couldn't afford to fall in love with Steve, knew she'd be setting herself up for heartbreak if she did so. Yes, he was wonderful and caring and a generous lover, but she didn't need another bad boy who rode a motorcycle and enjoyed adventure and spontaneity and said he didn't want a lifetime commitment.

He was fine for the moment as a fun fling, but not for the future. She'd already let one bad boy lead her astray, and she was still dealing with the fallout of that tumultuous relationship. Still trying to pay off debts and keep her business running smoothly and profitably while establishing her independence all over again-not to mention the responsibility she'd taken on to watch after her cousin.

"Hey, sexy," a low, deep voice said from behind her, jarring her out of her private thoughts. "Wanna get lucky tonight?"

Liz whirled around-startled, pleased, and thrilled to find Steve leaning lazily against the doorjamb of her small makeshift office. He was wearing tight black jeans and a long-sleeved black turtleneck, and his leather jacket was casually slung over his shoulder. He obviously hadn't shaved that day; dark stubble shaded his jaw and cheeks, and his thick, sable hair was rumpled around his head. A roguish grin curved his lips, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with shameless purpose.

He looked disreputable, gorgeous, and ready and willing to commit a whole lot of sin.

Okay, so he wasn't husband material, but the man was most definitely her every fantasy come to life. She'd already given herself permission to enjoy him for the time being, and that was exactly what she intended to do.

"Hi, yourself." She filed the last of the statements, closed the cabinet, and went back to her desk. "What are you doing here?"

He pushed off the doorjamb and strolled into the room, filling her sanctuary with his dominating masculine presence. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by."

"I'm glad you did." She smiled as she secured a rubber band around the paid bills she needed to mail tomorrow morning. "Are you here for your caramel frappuccino?"

"No, I'm here for you." Standing on the other side of her small desk, he cocked his hip and slid his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"

She shook her head, realizing just how hungry she actually was. "No. I've been so busy that I haven't even thought about dinner."

"What are the chances of you getting out of here early and joining me for a bite to eat?" He winked at her.

She shivered at the naughty connotation to his words, no doubt deliberate on his part, judging by the wicked gleam in his eyes. "I'd say your chances are very good. I just finished up everything I needed to for the day. Let me go over a few things with my night manager; then I'm a free woman and all yours."

Fifteen minutes later, he was escorting her out the front door of the cafe and to his Harley-Davidson, parked at the curb. She stopped abruptly and glanced up at him. "Where's your truck?"

"At home." He unhooked one of the two black helmets from the motorcycle and held it loosely in his hand. "I thought it might be fun to take you for a ride on my bike. Are you okay with that?"

Surprisingly, she was, and knew it was only because she trusted him so much. He was offering her a bit of frivolous fun after a long day at work, an irresistible adventure that beckoned to her wilder side, along with the chance to indulge that bad girl inside her that only he had the ability to rouse.

She grinned, welcoming the rush of excitement infusing her veins. "I'm more than okay with that."

"You're gonna love it," he promised, and secured the helmet on her head, then held open his leather jacket for her to wear.

She slipped inside the fragrant warmth. He zipped her up and flipped the collar up around her neck, enveloping her in the delicious, heady scent of Steve, worn leather, and pure male heat. The jacket was two sizes too big for her, but it made her feel safe and protected, just as the man himself did.

While he put on his own helmet, her gaze drifted over the beast of a bike she was about to climb up on. The motorcycle was huge, all gleaming black enamel and shiny chrome, except for the words Wilde Thing, airbrushed in graduated shades of orange, yellow, and red on the gas tank situated between the handlebars and seat. The suggestive statement suited him and brought to mind the sexy lyrics to the song of the same name: "Wild thing, I think I love you."

She dismissed those thoughts as soon as they entered her head, fearing the truth inherent in those words. She inhaled the cool night air, knowing she'd never again be able to hear that song without thinking of Steve and her time with him.

He mounted the bike first, and with his instruction she straddled the leather seat and settled herself behind him, spreading her thighs to encompass the width of his hips. He started the engine, and the whole bike reverberated to life, as did her nerve endings. Her pulse leaped, the vibrations arousing her body and tickling her senses.

"Wrap your arms around my waist," he said to her over his shoulder.

He didn't have to ask twice. She leaned into the solid, muscular strength of his back, bringing them intimately close and snug, and locked her fingers over his taut abdomen. He revved the high-powered engine once more, and off they went.

He drove along Lake Shore Drive, taking her past North Avenue Beach and Lincoln Park. At night, the sights were incredible, a mesmerizing combination of colored lights and unobstructed views. Sitting on the back of his motorcycle, with the wide-open road ahead of them and the wind caressing her face, Liz felt exhilarated, unrestrained, with a sense of freedom that had eluded her since before she'd married Travis. She embraced the feeling, and Steve, and enjoyed the invigorating sensations rippling through her.

While she felt cocooned in warmth within Steve's leather jacket, her fingers grew cold, and she grew bold, tugging up the hem of his turtleneck a few inches so she could slip her palms beneath his shirt and absorb some of his body heat. Amazingly enough, his skin was blessedly hot, and she splayed her chilled hands on his flat belly. He didn't so much as flinch at the contact, and she groaned gratefully as she rubbed her palms up along his ribs, and her fingers began to thaw and warm.

Long after her hands had defrosted, she continued to stroke him, to absently caress his chest, his sides, his stomach, just because she liked touching him. Before long he was turning down the street that led to the Navy Pier and the shops, attractions, and restaurants located along the popular boardwalk.

He parked the motorcycle and helped her off it. It took her a moment to regain her footing since her legs were shaking from the vibrations of the engine. He removed her helmet and threaded his long fingers through her hair, restoring it to some semblance of order, she guessed. The tender look in his eyes, however, told her he'd combed through the silky strands for the pure pleasure of it.

She glanced out at the pier as realization dawned. "Have you just coerced me into a date?"

He chuckled and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers intimately as they walked toward one of Chicago's largest landmarks and tourist attractions. "No coercing about it, sweetheart. You got onto the back of my bike willingly."

She couldn't argue with that-not that she wanted to. "That was fun," she admitted.

"What, feeling me up?"

She laughed, feeling more lighthearted and carefree than she had in the past three years. "That, and riding on your bike."

He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. "I had a feeling you'd like it."

She tipped her head, regarding him speculatively. "Have you ever taken another woman on your motorcycle?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.

He didn't seem to mind her personal inquiry, though there was an intensity in his eyes that belied his casual demeanor. "You're the first woman I've ever asked."

His reply made her feel too giddy. "Lucky me," she said, uncaring how possessive she sounded.

He dropped a spontaneous kiss on her lips, which left her aching for a deeper, longer embrace. "More like lucky me," he murmured.

They ordered dinner at a casual seafood restaurant overlooking the harbor and shared a platter of fried clams, sauteed shrimp, steamed mussels, and crab legs. Messy finger foods that both of them fed to each other.

Liz took a drink of the frothy pina colada she'd ordered, and glanced at the man sitting next to her. "Did you get my voice mail message today?"

"Yeah, I did." He dipped a fried clam in cocktail sauce and brought it up to her mouth to eat, then licked the excess condiment from his own fingers. "I was out doing some surveillance work on a case and figured we could talk about things tonight, in person. What did Antonio have to say?"

"The message was brief but to the point, and exactly what we've been hoping for." She swirled the last shrimp in garlic-butter sauce and lifted it to his lips. He curled his tongue around the morsel of meat, slow and sensual, and her stomach fluttered with awareness. "I have an appointment to meet with Antonio tomorrow morning at eleven. He said he wanted to talk to me about an advancement opportunity within the company."

Steve wiped his mouth on a napkin, and since they'd pretty much cleared their platter, he motioned their waitress back to the table. "Which I'm sure translates to offering you a position as a party girl."

She waited while the young woman cleared their dishes, and Steve took the liberty of ordering a dessert for them to share-a slice of praline cheesecake drizzled with extra caramel sauce.

Once the waitress had moved on to fill their dessert order, she said, "I won't accept the offer if Antonio suggests I take any client other than you to The Ultimate Fantasy party."

A muscle in his jaw flexed, and his expression turned adamant. "You can bet I won't let you go to one of those parties by yourself, or without me on your arm. And there's no way in hell I'd allow another man to think you're his for the night."

The rough, territorial growl in his voice thrilled her. "What if we get to the party and don't get the information we need to track the guy Valerie was seeing?"

"There aren't any guarantees either way, so let's not jump ahead of things, okay?" He brushed his fingers gently along her cheek in a caring caress. "Let's take it one step at a time."

Once again she entrusted herself to him. "All right."

Their cheesecake was delivered with two forks, but Steve insisted on feeding her bites in between his. The dessert was smooth and delicious, the caramel just enough to tempt her palate and remind her of their erotic encounter a few nights ago.

He touched another creamy bite to her lips, coaxing her to open up and accept, which she did. "Are you trying to fatten me up?"

"Not at all," he drawled, and licked away a drop of caramel from the corner of his mouth. "I just want to make sure you've got plenty of energy for later."

"Later?" She lifted a brow, undeniably curious. "What have you got planned for tonight, Mr. Wilde?"

His dark, compelling gaze riveted her. "It's a surprise, wench."

Desire began a slow burn inside her, and a hopeful grin spread across her face. "You're going to be my pirate?"

"Aye," he said in a decent imitation of a wicked, lascivious buccaneer. "You betcha, I am."

Oh, yes. She licked her lips, tasting caramel and praline and wishing it were Steve instead. "What are you waiting for? Take me home and ravish me."

Liz was learning to expect the unexpected when it came to Steve, which was part of what made him so breathtakingly appealing, so utterly irresistible. He didn't take her back to The Daily Grind for her to get her car, nor did he head toward her apartment. Instead, he drove them to a suburb just outside the city, where they wended their way though a residential area with large, well-kept homes that spoke of middle-class comfort.

No matter where Steve took her, Liz knew how the night was going to end-with a deliciously forbidden fantasy fulfilled, and her completely sated. The man didn't do anything halfway, including giving as much sexual pleasure as he received.

The vibrating rumble of the motorcycle's engine between her thighs electrified her, building her anticipation for what was to come. Finally, the bike slowed and Steve turned into the driveway of a two-story structure. The metal garage door rolled up, and he pulled into a spot right next to his SUV and cut the motor.

In one smooth, fluid motion he moved off the bike, then held out his hand to help her do the same, though her legs weren't quite as steady as his. Their helmets came off, along with the leather jacket she wore, which he tossed across the seat of the Harley.

She rubbed her bare arms, feeling chilled straight through her blouse without his jacket, but knew he'd be warming her up again soon enough.

"Where are we?" she asked as she followed him to a door that led inside the house. Stupid question, but for some reason she needed him to confirm their destination.

He punched a quick code into the keypad on the wall, disengaging an alarm before he unlocked the door. "My place."

Yes, she was surprised, but didn't ask why he'd chosen to bring her to his home tonight. She refused to read anything deeper into the switch from her apartment to his bachelor pad, other than a change of scenery.

He opened the door, and she glanced from the dark, shadowed interior of his house to his equally dark, shadowed face. She stared up into his hot, hungry eyes and shivered, but not from the cold this time. With the dim light in the garage haloing his head, he looked like a fallen angel, a dangerous outlaw, and most definitely a plundering, pillaging pirate.

He inclined his head and murmured, "You have thirty seconds to hide from me, wench, before I come after you. And once I capture you, you're mine, to do with as I please, in any way I desire. Do you understand?"

She nodded jerkily, the intensity of her growing excitement making her feel light-headed, and damp between her thighs. She was his prisoner, his captive, and he'd just established himself as her master. She might have begun the provocative game on the phone last night, but he would finish it now and stake a primitive claim on her. Without a doubt, she knew tonight's fantasy would be like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

"One…" he began, counting down the seconds he'd given her as a head start. "Two…"

Adrenaline pumped through her, heating her blood and making her heart beat wildly in her chest. She bolted into the house, and it was like plunging into an unknown maze of obscure doorways and furniture, shadowy corridors, and darkened rooms. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Steve had the benefit of knowing the layout of the house, but she wasn't at all daunted by her disadvantage, because she eventually wanted to be seized and ravished. But first she intended to enjoy the very adult game of hide-and-seek, and that meant evading her master's capture.

At his count of twenty, she turned to the left and found herself in what appeared to be a living room with suede couches and a big-screen TV. She had no idea where to go from there, and her pulse rioted within her as he neared the thirty-second mark; then the house filled with an ominous silence.

Experiencing a burst of animated panic, she turned down a hallway and saw Steve's silhouette approaching from the other end. Startled, she gasped and sprinted in the opposite direction, running into the kitchen with a large, wooden butcher block dominating the middle of the room. She spun around just as Steve entered, giving her no choice but to rush to the far end of the kitchen and use the big block of wood as a barrier between them.

He peeled off his turtleneck and tossed the garment onto a nearby table. Slowly he circled around one side of the slab of wood and toward her. The slice of moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the breadth of his chest and made his eyes gleam like quicksilver. "Take off your blouse, or I'll rip it off when I catch you."

"If you catch me," she taunted bravely.

He continued to stalk her, a predatory smile curving his full lips. "Don't doubt that I will, so consider yourself forewarned."

With him having cleared one side of the counter, she dashed out of the room and down another hallway. Seemingly out of nowhere, he appeared in front of her, from another doorway. She yelped and turned to run back into the kitchen. Just as she entered, he caught her around the waist and pulled her backside hard against his chest.

His parted lips grazed the side of her neck. "You can run, but you can't hide," he breathed into her ear.

She shuddered, a delightful, eager sensation. Playing the stubborn, rebellious captive, she tugged at the arm banded around her middle, and struggled to find a way out of his grasp, but she was no match for his superior strength, and they both knew it. He maneuvered her up against the butcher block, trapping her hips between the edge of the solid counter-top and himself, behind her. Her bottom was tucked tightly against his groin, the thick erection confined behind denim searing her even through her own jeans.

With the pressure of his hips keeping her immobile, he raised his hands to the first button on her blouse and dipped his fingers into her cleavage. He stroked over the mounds of her breasts, and her nipples hardened into aching points. True to his word, he tugged on the fabric, hard, and sent the first button skittering across the kitchen. Another fierce yank of material, and her top split wide open with a resounding rip. She sucked in a stunned breath, and moaned when he roughly pushed the cups of her bra down and his big hands closed over her breasts. He squeezed and kneaded her flesh and delicately pinched her nipples between his fingers.

She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. As his prisoner, she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. He pulled off the shredded fabric that was now her blouse and dropped it to the floor. Seconds later, her bra followed. He turned her in his arms, keeping her spine locked against the counter, and clamped his hot, wet mouth over one rigid nipple and sucked while his other hand continued to fondle her other breast.

Swallowing a whimper, she closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the wooden block at her sides. His velvet-soft tongue licked and swirled, and his teeth nibbled, sending waves of heat rolling through her. Long, questing fingers grazed her belly, and he took a step back to give him more room to release the snap on her jeans.

Refusing to give in to him so easily, she made a quick decision and darted to the side, managing to evade his grasp since he hadn't expected her to bolt. She hightailed it down the dark hallway and took the stairs double-time to the second level of the house. She instinctively headed left and slipped through the second doorway on the right. A bathroom, she realized, that adjoined another room, from what she could tell in the darkness.

She heard the creak of a stair, knew he was coming to find her, and moved behind the bathroom door. She flattened her back against the wall, excruciatingly aroused, dizzy with desire and the thrill of the forbidden.

The man was incredibly light-footed; the only thing giving away his presence was his shadow as he moved past the bathroom, then stopped. She held her breath when he pushed the door open wide and stepped inside but didn't switch on the light. The cool wooden door touched her bare nipples, and the anticipation of getting caught made her stomach flutter and her mind spin. God, she hoped she didn't pass out from lack of oxygen. A few seconds later he backed out and continued down the hallway to the next room, and she gulped air back into her lungs.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he cajoled, his voice low and mesmerizingly sensual as he hunted for her.

With him in another section of the upper level, she silently moved into the adjoining bedroom, which turned out to be a home gym. Making her way to the threshold that led back out into the hallway, she waited there, listening for any sounds or movement from Steve. Unfortunately, all she could hear was the thudding of her heart in her chest and the roar of blood in her own ears.

Taking a chance, she rushed out of the room, made a sharp left down the corridor, and ran headlong into a solid wall of virile male muscle. Steve grabbed her upper arms, steadying her. Before she could regain her equilibrium, he pinned her up against the wall. His hands framed the sides of her face, holding her still as his mouth took hers, open and hot. His silky tongue thrust deep and tangled with hers, and he crushed his hair-roughened chest to her breasts, the heat of his flesh branding her. Widening his stance so that his knees bracketed hers, he rolled his hips, grinding his rock-hard sex against the notch between her thighs.

She moaned into his mouth and flattened her hands on the wall behind her, trying to remember that she was his hostage and he was the one in control. That this fantasy was all about her resisting, and Steve forcing her to submit. It was the resisting part she was having a difficult time with.

This time when he reached between them and wrenched open the button on her jeans, she let him. His hands pushed into the waistband of her pants and underwear, slid over her hips and around to her buttocks. Ruthlessly he shoved the material down her legs and left it bunched around her knees, effectively restraining her.

Then he was kneeling in front of her, his mouth open, hot, and wet on her belly, his tongue stroking over her hip, his teeth nipping her mound. Her sex pulsed, ached, and throbbed for the touch of his tongue, the caress of his fingers, the long, heated thrust of his cock filling her. He splayed his hands on her bare legs, widening them as much as the tangled denim allowed, and bit the sensitive inner flesh of her thighs, making her gasp and tremble. The stubble on his cheeks abraded her soft skin, adding to her heightening need.

His palms slid upward, and he delved his thumbs between the slick folds of her sex, separating her nether lips and forcing her swollen, glistening clit up and out, all his for the taking. She waited, her breath suspended in her lungs as he leaned forward and buried his tongue deep. He licked and circled her labia, pressing hard, retreating slowly, teasing her to the brink of her climax, only to let her orgasm ebb.

Her hands clenched in tight fists in her attempt to resist the frantic impulse to grab the back of his head and increase the pressure of his mouth, the friction of his tongue. "Steve," she said, and heard the desperation in her voice.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and glittering with lust. "I want you to beg me for what you want."

She shook her head defiantly, and he proceeded to torment her further, laving her, suckling her, but keeping her release just out of reach. The pleasure grew with every hot pass of his tongue, heat and tension building higher and stronger. Her head rolled against the wall, and her body arched against his ravenous mouth of its own accord, striving for the peak that was so, so close…

He withdrew, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. "Beg, wench," he ordered roughly, and licked her again. And again, his tongue dancing wickedly over her flesh, so skilled, warm, and sleek.

Her frustration was so overwhelming, she sobbed and finally gave her pirate what he demanded from her.

"Please," she panted, barely able to speak, but knew the one word would not gain her what she yearned for. "Please… let… me… come."

A long, thick finger thrust inside her at the same time he closed his mouth over her clitoris and used the suctioning swirl of his tongue to draw her into a toe-curling, mind-bending orgasm. A hoarse, ragged cry ripped from her throat as her climax crested and her entire body spasmed with the force of her release.

As soon as those internal ripples subsided, Steve yanked at the pants and underwear around her knees. Still crouched in front of her, he anxiously shoved them down her legs and helped her step out of them, stripping her completely bare. Refusing to let him retain the upper hand as her captor, even after he'd so generously pleasured her, Liz pushed at his broad shoulders before he could stand back up and take her against the wall. The unexpected move caused him to lose his balance and fall back on his ass.

She sprinted to the side and out of his reach, and he cursed around a bout of deep, masculine chuckles that belied the dark, intimidating persona he'd assumed for the sake of their fantasy. Taking advantage of the handful of seconds she'd bought herself, she ran down the hallway… and straight into the master bedroom. Realizing her mistake, she whirled around to head down the stairs and came to an abrupt halt when she found Steve silhouetted in the doorway, blocking her only means of escape.

Her pulse fluttered at the sight of what a formidable opponent he made, so utterly sexual, so impressively virile, with his muscular arms and washboard stomach that spoke of his superior strength. The long, hard length of his erection was a blatant outline inside his black jeans, and somewhere along the way he'd taken off his shoes and socks.

"You're gonna pay for that little stunt, you ungrateful wench," he murmured, and though she knew this was all fun and games, that he would never do anything she objected to, she couldn't help but shiver at the sexy threat in his tone.

He played his part exceptionally well.

Pushing the bedroom door shut, he locked it with a resounding click, then flipped a switch on the wall that turned on a bedside light. She swallowed hard as his gaze raked down the length of her naked body.

"Now I have you right where I want you." He crooked a finger at her. "Come here," he ordered.

She jutted her chin out mutinously. "No."

Seemingly taking her refusal as a direct challenge, a seductive smile curved the corners of his mouth, and he strolled deeper into the room. For every confident step he took toward her, she took one back, the excitement and awareness between them building as they played a provocative game of cat-and-mouse. He continued to stalk her until he'd managed to maneuver her into the far corner of the bedroom, though there was still plenty of space separating them.

"Come here," he said again, this time more firmly. "Surrender, and I'll be gentle with you. Disobey, and suffer the consequences."

She didn't want gentle. She was excruciatingly aroused again, eager for a hot, aggressive kind of joining. And she wanted to see what kind of punishment he had in mind. She attempted to skirt around him, but he lunged toward her. His fingers caught in her hair and brought her up short with a yelp.

Startled, he hesitated for a moment, his eyes gentling as he searched her expression to make sure he hadn't gone too far with her. When she didn't issue a protest to his rough handling, he continued with the fantasy.

"Since it seems you need to learn your place, get on your knees," he said in a voice so low it was almost a growl.

The downward tugging on her scalp gave her no choice but to comply, and she knelt in front of him, her face level with that huge bulge in his pants. With his free hand, he managed to unbuckle his belt, open the fly of his jeans, and reach inside to release his stiff shaft and balls.

He stroked the length of his cock with his fingers, and she watched, fascinated, as he thickened even more. Bringing her head closer, he rubbed the broad, swollen head of his penis against her closed lips. His flesh was as hard as granite, textured like heated velvet, and seemed to quiver with need.

"Open up, wench, and take me in your mouth."

The hand fisted in her hair tightened to keep her from pulling away, but she wasn't going anywhere. She submitted to his domination because she wanted to pleasure him, too.

Looking up the length of his body and holding his hot gaze, she parted her lips and took him as deep as she could, surrounding him in wet heat and the silken caress of her tongue along the underside of his shaft. She relaxed her throat, practically swallowing him as his hand cupped the back of her head, holding her, guiding her, while his hips rocked rhythmically and his cock slid in and out of her mouth.

"Yessss," he hissed, and a muscle in his jaw clenched in restraint.

She knew he was close to coming; she could taste the change in him, hot and salty, could feel the steady throb of the vein running along the underside of his cock, and his testicles were drawn up close to his body. A shudder rocked him, and she swirled her tongue over the engorged, sensitive tip, then closed her lips tightly over the crown and sucked, hard, pushing him higher, increasing his pleasure with each stroke of her mouth on his sex. He groaned, closed his eyes, and made the mistake of loosening his hold on her hair.

She'd gained control, a heady sensation she couldn't help but exploit as his prisoner. Emboldened, she took him deep one last time, felt his body jerk, and knew he was on the verge of exploding. She drew back, released him from her mouth, and scrambled away and to her feet before he knew she was gone.

His brilliant blue eyes narrowed, fierce and hungry, contradicting the way the corner of his mouth twitched with a grin at her cunning. "Expect no mercy when I catch you."

Dismissing her for a moment, he walked to the nighstand beside the bed, withdrew a foil packet from a box, and sheathed his erection with a condom. He didn't bother taking off his jeans; the front placket remained wide open, framing his jutting sex, giving him the decadent appearance of a hedonistic bad boy intent on debauchery. And she was the object of his lust.

Lucky, lucky her. Heat and passion swept through her limbs, and her heartbeat accelerated with anticipation.

He turned toward her, once again stalking her. There was nowhere to hide, no way to avoid him, and they both knew it. But it was obvious that he reveled in the hunt, chase, and final capture. Before long, he trapped her between him and the bed, giving her no choice but to try to breach that barrier without getting caught. She made a run for it and scrambled across the mattress but only made it halfway across before a large hand clamped around her ankle and ruthlessly tugged her back.

She gave a shriek of startled surprise and thrashed, her legs flailing. She accidently kicked him in the hip, and he grunted, then muttered a curse, but continued to drag her back to where he stood at the other end of the bed. Her feet touched the floor, but the hand he flattened on her back kept her bent at the waist, with her breasts mashed against the soft comforter. She squirmed to free herself, and he pinned her to the edge of the mattress with his hips. She felt the hot, heavy pressure of his erection along the crease of her bottom, and an illicit thrill shot through her.

She heard the hiss of leather sliding through his belt loops and experienced a jolt of shock when he reached down and quickly secured the strap just above her knees, binding her legs together so that she couldn't move, couldn't run or escape again.

He leaned over her from behind, aligning their bodies intimately, the heavy weight of him pressing her deeper into the mattress. "Would you like your hands restrained behind your back, as well?" he whispered roughly in her ear.

She shook her head, though the image of herself helplessly bound for his pleasure did excite her. "No," she said breathlessly, and instead curled her fingers into the covers, suspecting she was going to need that anchor. "I'll be good. I promise."

His legs widened on either side of her thighs, the coarse denim of his jeans scratching her skin in an arousing way. He smoothed a palm down her spine, glided his hand over her buttocks, and dipped his fingers into the firm crevice between. He delved lower, found her positively drenched with desire for him, and stroked her wet folds, spreading her moisture, preparing her for his entry.

She moaned, lifting her hips and straining toward him as much as her position would allow, eager to be filled by him. He fitted the head of his shaft against her slick opening and pressed into her an inch, just enough to tease her. She sucked in a breath, wished she could open her legs wider, yet the clench of her thighs made for a tighter fit, a more erotic possession.

He leaned over her again and braced his arms on the mattress at her sides. His mouth skimmed her cheek, his breath hot, heavy, and moist on her skin. "Is this what you want, wench?" he rasped.

"Yes," she begged shamelessly. "Oh, yes."

He thrust the rest of the way into her, lifting her feet off the floor as he drove her hips up onto the bed, the size and hot, silken length of him stretching her as he impaled her to the hilt. She bit back a sharp cry, and he groaned and withdrew before plunging forward yet again, and again, moving against her, over her.

No mercy, he'd said, and he granted her none. He scraped his teeth along her shoulder, nipped at the side of her neck, and she whimpered as fiery, exquisite sensations spiraled down to her sex. His fingers tangled in her hair, and he turned her head, forcing her to look at the mirrored closet doors across from them.

"Watch me fuck you," he demanded huskily.

She couldn't have looked away from their reflection even if she wanted to. The sight of them together, playing out such a carnal fantasy, mesmerized her. As did the sight of him mounting her from behind, half dressed, his body pinning hers down, making her a slave to anything and everything he desired.

His face was taut with restraint, his unshaven jaw clenched, his expression a little savage. His hips pumped against hers, the muscles in his arms and down his back shifting and bunching each time he thrust deep. Digging her palms into the mattress, she lifted her bottom and pushed back, giving as good as he gave. A growl rolled up from his throat, and the length of him shuddered. Fisting her hair tighter in his hand, he locked an arm around her waist, holding her still, in ultimate control of her body, their movements, and her pleasure.

His hand glided lower as he continued to drive into her, slipping over her mons and working his fingers between her tethered thighs, where she was wet with wanting and aching for a more explicit touch. The first illicit stroke along her clitoris made her tremble and melt. The second skillful caress tore a low, ragged moan from her throat. His mouth opened on her neck, his tongue laved her skin, and then he sank his teeth into the tender flesh where the curve of her shoulder began. The triple sensual assault of his mouth, his cock, and his fingers manipulating her body shattered her defenses, and she came on a long, shockingly intense orgasm.

Her inner muscles clamped around him, milked him, and he panted, sucking air into his lungs as he pushed into her higher, harder, deeper. Relentlessly. With a low, primitive growl he finally surrendered to his own climax. He tossed his head back, thrust into her one last time, hard and fast, then stiffened. Her name tumbled reverently from his lips as his scalding release sent him over the sharp edge of pleasure and straight into the realm of mindless physical sensation.