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through her. “Bastard, make them let go.” Vines sprang from the water and twined around her wrists, drawing her arms wide. Now she was spread-eagled, lying across the steps, her body—her sex—exposed. She expected him to gloat.
    Instead, his head fell back suddenly, and a long groan tore from his mouth.
    She glanced down to find vines entwining beneath the water, one wrapped around his cock, another encircling and laving his balls.
    But he didn’t look concerned, merely orgasmic.
    His heavy-lidded gaze lowered to hers, and she took his cue, relaxing against the tiles beneath her and letting the vines prying her apart do their work.
    As soon as she surrendered, the tension eased, and the vines surged between her legs, tickling her inner thighs, stroking between her buttocks, at last sliding along her folds. “Sweet Jesus,” she gasped.
    A dark brow rose.
    And she laughed, beginning a slow rise toward ecstasy. “Guess he has no place here.”
    He muttered something, and the vines ringing his sex loosened. He strode toward her, lowering himself to a knee on the step just beneath her. When his hands settled to either side of her body and he hovered over her, she lifted her head and nuzzled her cheek alongside his; letting him know she was eager for this, burning for it.
    Vines continued to wrap around her body, cushioning her back, sliding around her sides to loop around her breasts and plump them up. He tapped a nipple with a fingertip and a slender vine inched toward it, surrounding the distended tip and tightening deliciously. Then he lowered his head and tongued the end that peeked from the center of the tight ring.
    Gabriella’s whole body quaked. Spread as though she’d been tied to a rack, something she’d experienced a time or two, she prayed for him to discern the excitement building inside her.
    His head reared back, canting, staring into her eyes, and then a small, wicked smile stretched his lush lips. Vines exploded from the water, shooting upward, and he leaned away. One vine quivered, then descended, lashing her belly, her inner thighs, with just enough speed and strength to sting but leave only reddened skin—not a welt.
    Gabriella cried out, her hands straining against their bonds, her belly beginning to dance with electric quivers as creamy pleasure filled her channel and trickled down her inner thighs to float away in the pool.
    The lashes continued. Tongues tightening, hardening, flicking at her flesh, never the same spot. The leaves twisted, knotted, then lashed at her like the strokes of a cat-o’-ninetails. Gabriella gasped, her body releasing endorphins that sent her into a haze of euphoria. Her fists curled; her head tilted back.
    Then she felt a fingertip slide from between her breasts down her belly to her mound, tracing through her thatch. The leafy tongues followed and slipped between her folds, pressing them apart to tap her clit.
    She was close to exploding, sliding deeper into an orgasm so strong and fierce that she rebelled. “No!”
    Her eyes slammed open, caught his heavy-lidded glance, and she knew he had no intention of retreating.
    A vine lifted in the air above her, coiling around and around, the end whipping like a whirligig, then stretching into an oblong shape. Her breath caught as it dove between her legs, sliding between her folds and pushing deep into her body.
    Afraid for a moment, she held her breath, trying to close her legs against the invasion, but the bundle of twisting vines inside her pulsated. The leafy tongues caressed her inner walls, twisting tight and then expanding, then repeating the motion over and over until her belly undulated, and her eyes slid shut.
    Whipping vines tapped her breasts, her abdomen, her thighs, stung her lips and nipples, striking without pattern but warming her skin an inch at a time, until the heat inside her curled around her womb, became too much—and not enough.
    Her eyes shot open, begging him silently to end it. At a single wave