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Full, pale breasts, pink nipples. The sweet spot at the apex of her thighs. He’d already tasted her there, and now he craved more. She was better than ice cream. And he wanted to lick her all over.
    “Now, get on the bed. Put your hands up over your head.” She obeyed, sitting on the edge of the bed, raising her arms up over her head, her wrists crossed. “Yeah, like that,” he said. “Hold still.”
    He approached the bed and wound the tie around one wrist, then the other, then around both before knotting it. She could escape if she wanted to. But she wouldn’t. He was certain of that. Of her commitment to him. Her commitment to giving him the control.
    And he had no idea what she was getting out of it, but he knew what it did for him. That was all he needed to know. This was just one night, not a relationship. And it was a bed, not a freaking psychiatrist’s couch.
    “Put your arms down. Hands in your lap,” he said.
    She obeyed, and she was watching him far too closely for his liking. Her eyes were arousal-glazed enough. They were too clear. Too smart. Too watchful. Like she was seeing through his suit. His chest. Down to the things beneath that. His heart. His soul, if you believed in shit like that.
    He needed her a lot more mindless.
    He started to unbutton his shirt and he kept his focus on her. Now she was starting to look glazed, her breasts rising and falling sharply with each quick little breath she took.
    He pushed his shirt off his shoulders and shoved his pants and underwear down, gratified by the hitch in her breath when he was naked in front of her.
    “Do you know what I want you to do?” he asked.
    She looked up at him and shook her head.
    “I want you to suck my cock.”
    The color in her cheeks deepened, the speed of her breathing increasing. He could see her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck. Oh, Evie. That was what he liked about her. Every emotion, every want, every thought, spoken out loud by her body.
    He moved closer to the bed and reached behind her head, sinking his fingers deep into her hair and tugging back, tilting her face up. “You have such pretty lips,” he said. “I want them wrapped around me.”
    She fidgeted, her cheeks brilliant pink, her eyes bright. “Whatever you say.” He guided her to him and she pressed her mouth against his length, testing him delicately with the tip of her tongue. Her hesitance only got him harder, hotter. And the guilt stabbed at him again. The combination of her tongue, her innocence and his own physical response to it was enough to send him over the edge.
    He wrapped one hand around the base of his erection and squeezed tight, trying to keep control. She looked up at him, her tongue sliding along his length, from the head down to where he held himself tight, before following the same path back up.
    Then she adjusted her position, her hands tied, his grip still solid on her hair, and took him in deep. His knees almost gave out. He tugged hard on her hair, to brace himself, to prove he was still rooted to the earth.
    She moaned, the sound vibrating through him. He pulled up hard as she maneuvered her lips down over his length and he was rewarded with another deep sound of pleasure that shot straight through his body.
    He tugged her head upward, pulling away from her at the same time. “Enough. I can’t…I can’t possibly take any more of that.”
    “You liked it?” she asked, a small smile curving her glistening lips.
    “Hell. Yes.” She laughed, and it hit him like a lightning bolt. Shocking considering the situation. Arousing, which he found strange.
    “What?” he asked.
    “No one has ever said things like that to me before. But then, no one’s ever given me an orgasm against a wall, tied my hands and given me orders, either.”
    “You have to start sleeping with better men.”
    “Consider this the beginning of that.”
    He chuckled. “Okay. Now we have to get serious again.”
    “Okay.”
    “Lie down.” She scooted