Vintage Volume One by Lisa Suzanne Page B

pulled back, and I sucked in some air.
    “Again.” He pushed back into me, but this time I was prepared.
    His hand found the back of my head as he slid down my throat again, a shudder quaking through him as he pulled back and I rounded my lips around him.
    “Perfect. Exactly like that.”
    He thrust in and out of my mouth a few more times before he pulled out completely.
    He walked behind me and pushed my shoulders so that I tipped forward. He gentled my fall, and I turned my head so my cheek met my carpet. He yanked hard on the hands bound behind me, and then he pulled my hips up so that my ass was perched in the air.
    “Do you like being tied up? Do you like being at my mercy?”
    “Yes,” I whispered, shame filling me at my admission.
    I fucking loved it.
    I fucking loved the shudder that ran through him because of what I was doing to him with my mouth. I fucking loved the sounds he made as he growled with pleasure.
    A dark, twisted part of me loved the panic he created in me, and then the utter relief when he destroyed that panic.
    I felt him remove my shoes and then my pants. My shirt covered my back, and I was glad. I wasn’t ready to show him my tattoos yet. It seemed somehow more intimate than the actual act of what we were doing. I heard some additional rustling, probably as he stepped out of his own clothes, and I heard the familiar tear of a foil wrapper.
    He pulled on my hips, positioning me where he wanted me, and I was his ragdoll, his toy. I wanted to be whatever he wanted me to be. Somehow I already trusted him.
    He thrust into me sharply, roughly, unexpectedly. I cried out from the pleasure of the pain, and a throaty, feral groan grumbled out of his chest at my scream.
    “Your body was fucking made for mine,” he growled, propelling violently into me. Skin slapped against skin as he pounded away at me.
    I cried out over and over, moaning his name on the pleasure and screaming in the pain. I wasn’t sure which feeling was most prominent.
    It was agony mixed with heaven. I never wanted him to stop. He pulled on my hands, using them to force himself harder into me, pushing me to my limits. The carpet rubbed against my cheek, the friction stinging my skin.
    He pushed harder and harder into me, to the point where I thought my body would break if he didn’t stop, but I never wanted it to end.
    The muscles in my body tightened around him, tensing before exploding into the most severe climax of my life.
    He yelled out a string of curses as his body tightened over me momentarily before detonating into his own devastating release.
    He collapsed over the top of me, my arms still bound behind me as I lay flat on the floor, his weight pressing my exhausted limbs into the ground.
    He blew out a breath, and then he trailed kisses along the shirt still covering my back. He leaned up as he unbound my hands.
    He leaned back against the foot of my couch. He pulled me into his arms, cradling me to him, kissing my forehead. “Jimi. You okay, baby?” he whispered to me softly.
    The tender display almost brought tears to my eyes again.
    I nodded. “Never better.” My voice sounded raspy and foreign to my ears.
    He ran his fingertips gently down my stinging cheek. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
    “For what?” I asked, my voice lethargic.
    “Rug burn. Does it hurt?”
    I shrugged. It did, but pain was all relative. I’d never felt more alive than when Parker was driving into me and my face was planted against the floor.
    I’d take the pain of Parker’s pleasure over the pain of losing everyone I loved any day.

fourteen
     
    I showed him to the hallway bathroom, and I headed to my own bedroom to freshen up. We met back in my family room. He was already sitting on my couch, his feet perched on my coffee table. The hat that had adorned my table for the past six weeks was now perched backward on Parker’s head.
    “Your statute of limitations is up,” I said, nodding toward his hat. “That’s my hat now.”
    He