Wynd Temptress Part 3

She hooked her fingers in the elastic of her panties and watched his face as she slid them off her hips. His gaze locked on the small dark thatch about to be uncovered. When she slid the lace down her thighs, she purposely bent forward, hiding her secrets from him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s hanging like small pendulums before her. He craned his neck. She pivoted, giving him a view of her bottom and heard him groan.

She stepped out of her panties and straightened. He started for her, but she took a half step back before he could loom up in front of her. She needed to get him on his knees.

She spread her s.e.x lips with two fingers and looked him straight in the eye. "Do you want to taste me first?"

He made a gurgling sound in his throat and dropped to his knees.

She picked up the bra.s.s lamp but then sighed when his tongue slid over her s.e.x. He groaned, slipping his tongue up into her heat, clutching her thighs and spreading her wider. Her knees buckled. She had to get hold of herself before the pleasure swept her under. His thumbs slid over her c.l.i.t.

She cracked the lamp over his head.

Chapter Six.

When Adam came to he was sure he had been dreaming.

The last thing he remembered were Jezermiah's sweet pink lips, plump and glistening with arousal, and his tongue gliding over the silky hairless folds, tasting her and slipping up into her heat. He thought he would come by just tasting her. He grew hard as the tantalizing memory filled him.

Until his head started pounding. When his vision cleared, he saw that he was still in the kitchen area.

When he tried to move, he soon realized he was tied to a chair. Yanking hard on his restraints proved useless, and while his wrists were tied behind his back, each ankle was strapped to a chair leg. His chest was anch.o.r.ed to the chair's back.

He twisted around, but couldn't see her. Lifting up, he took the chair with him so that he was hopping in a circle. When he made a full ninety-degree turn he saw her. She was sitting on the couch, fully dressed, long legs crossed and swinging.

"It's about time you came to."

"I probably have a concussion," he growled. "That's the second time you've bashed my skull in less than two hours."

"Three hours. You've been out for a full sixty minutes," she quipped.

Despite her tone, he sensed a pang of guilt. He could sense a lot about her emotions that he bet she hid well from others.

"Untie me."

"Just as soon as you tell me the code that starts the skimmer."

"Forget it."

"Then I'll have to kill you."

He snorted. "With what?"

She jumped up. "With any number of things. How about a fork jammed into your eyeb.a.l.l.s?"

He winced.

"A butcher knife would do fine for slicing off your b.a.l.l.s."

He closed his eyes to that image.

"Or..." She stepped up close to him. "I could choke you with this rope." She wrapped it around her wrist and jerked.

But he wasn't paying attention. He was staring at her crotch as she stood before him. Now he didn't have to imagine. He knew what she looked like, what she smelled like, and how she tasted underneath those panties. He drew in a steadying breath.

If he was going to get himself out of this jam, he had to start thinking with the head that was above his waist.

He tipped his head up and looked at her. "So, which one is it going to be?"

She leaned down close. "Choking you." She gritted her teeth. "That would give me the most satisfaction."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Before he could catch his breath, he felt the rough threads of a noose slipping around his neck.

"It's not going to work," he told her as she threw one end over a ceiling beam.

She gave it a tug and his head snapped up. "Tell me the code!"

When he didn't answer, she pulled it tighter, but it wasn't anywhere close to hurting him. For all her toughness, he knew she didn't have it in her.

"Look," he said, trying to reason with her. "Let's clear up a few things. I am a level five psychic, but I'm not a renegade. I'm a retired Commander with the PSI Agency and I'm convinced you're Jezermiah Cameron. My mission is to determine your level of psychic ability and your intentions during this reunification."

"Why should I believe you? And why should I care? Either way, you've kidnapped me and held me hostage. I just want to be left alone. I've hurt no one and have no intentions of causing anyone any trouble. Except you, if you don't let me out of here. Now tell me the code."

"Do you really believe if you mate with a psychic as powerful as yourself you'll create another Tyre Leyton?"

"I never said that."

"You thought it."

"You can't read my thoughts."

"All level fives can-"

"But I-"

He gave her an amused smile. "But you what? Blocked my thoughts?"

"No-"

"You know, you might just get the code out of me by using your abilities. You may be more powerful than I am."

"I'm not who you think I am." She walked over to the stove and secured the rope to its leg. "Besides, I'd rather torture you."

That, he believed.

She pulled on the rope and yanked gently. "All I have to do is stand on my tip toes, grab this rope, and let my weight drop and I could choke you."

"But you won't."

She glowered at him. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't believe you have it in you."

"That's quite a gamble you're taking." Her eyes met his, clear and steady.

"It's no gamble, Jezermiah. I know you. I've known you for a long time. It's just only now that we've met."

She drew in a soft breath. "What are you talking about?"

"We're fated. You and I."

She straightened, her expression clouded. "Fated for what?"

"To be together."

She blinked and then shook her head. "Fated!" She gave a snort. "I've allowed you to do it again. The way you hypnotize me so easily should prove that I'm no level five psychic."

"This isn't psychic energy, Jez, it's-"

"Stop it!" She clenched her small fists. "I just want..." She turned her back on him. "I just want to go home." Her head bent. "But now I have no home, since you've hunted me down."

"Jez-"

She whirled on him. "Stop calling me that," she choked, her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears.

G.o.d, he wanted to hold her. He fought against his bonds. "Untie me, Jez. I can help you. You just have to trust me."

But she wasn't listening. She drifted away, mumbling something to herself. When she turned back to him, her eyes were brighter but still shimmering with moisture. She pursed her lips and studied him. "Yes," she murmured, brushing a tangle of hair off her face. "There's more than one way to torture a man."

Tension leaped in his loins at the way her lush lips lifted in a predatory smile. Her eyes dropped down to the growing bulge in his pants. She licked her lips and gave a little smile.

"Oh, yes. This will definitely work."

He didn't like the sound of that.

"Let's see," she murmured to herself, pulling out more rope from the bag, and then dropping down beside him.

"What are you doing?"

She ignored him and walked behind the chair, her legs impossibly long in that short dress. He thought about how smooth and hot her thighs had felt against his palms. She was wrapping more rope around him and untying others, tugging and yanking and anchoring ends to corner posts and to one leg of the industrial stove. He was trying to figure out what she was up to when she tightened the rope over the beam forcing him to stand.

The chair fell away and he was tethered. Tied up like a wild stallion and readied to be broken. He stood with his legs braced shoulder width apart, unable to move them either forward or back, with his hands behind his back and his neck in a taut noose.

A sweat broke over his body. He wasn't sure how he felt about what she planned to do. Then again, he was probably letting his imagination run away with him.

She sauntered up to him and dropped her eyes down his body. "Yes, this will be perfect." She lifted her lashes. "Don't you think?"

He swallowed. "Perfect for what?"

She sc.r.a.ped her nails over his groin. He was wrong. He knew exactly what she planned to do to him, and he still wasn't sure how he felt abut it.

When she squeezed him through the heavy denim, he closed his eyes and groaned.

"Let's see." Her breath brushed his lips. "Where should I start?"

She released his c.o.c.k. When he opened his eyes, she had stepped back and was studying his shoulders. She gave him a sultry grin. "First, I'd like to see if you're as big as you seem."

She plucked at the b.u.t.tons on his shirt and drew aside the fabric. "Oh..." She glanced up at him and color rose to her cheeks. In a gesture that seemed purely spontaneous, she swept a tentative palm down his chest. He sucked in a breath with the contact of their skin. Her face flushed, fueling his arousal.

"I'd be careful about doing anything you'll be sorry for."

She bit her lip and then sc.r.a.ped her nail over his nipple. When he groaned, she looked surprised by his reaction and then did it again. This time he stifled the moan, but her hand looked so small compared to his muscled chest, her fingers so white against his dark hair that he was already tortured.

She seemed lost in her exploration, threading her fingers through the wiry hair and moving closer for a better look. Her breath fluttered through his chest hair. She smelled so good that he wanted to take a bite out of her. But she seemed not to notice, so intent was she on skimming her hands over every muscle, her concentration fierce, and with such exquisite care it was as though she were a sculptor molding the hard ridges with her palms. Her touch was killing him. He was hard as steel just thinking about the soft pads of her fingers moving down farther.

Standing on her toes, she reached up to push his shirt off his shoulders and then smoothed her palms over his bunched biceps, shaping them under her hands. She pressed her fingers into his muscles as though gauging his strength. She let out a little breath. If she had any ideas about overpowering him, she'd realize now that she was in over her head.

When she turned her attention back to his chest she hesitated. Her eyes dropped lower. As though compelled to touch him, she traced with her fingers the ripple of muscle along his stomach. He broke out in a sweat. She'd have him begging before she got his pants down.

She murmured to herself and then leaned a little closer, almost touching her forehead to his chest. When she breathed deeply, he had to strangle a moan. He didn't think anything could be more erotic than the thought that she was breathing in his scent. Then she licked his nipple and he jumped.

"Oh, you like that?" Her wet tongue sent a message straight to his groin and had him throbbing.

"I refuse to answer on the grounds-"

She stepped back, looking dazed. She gave her head a little shake as though gathering her wits and then frowned. "Is that right? We'll just see what tortures you and what doesn't."

He stifled a groan when she yanked on his fly b.u.t.ton and unzipped his pants. "This won't lie." She pulled his pants down over his hips. He came bobbing out.

She drew in a breath. He swelled hideously large as she continued to stare at him, her eyes growing as large as saucers. The purpled vein that ran his length bulged and the head of his c.o.c.k grew red and angry right before her eyes. His hairy b.a.l.l.s pulled up tight. If anyone was being tortured, it was she.

She reached for him with a tentative touch and glided her fingertips smoothly over his stretched skin and then traced down his gnarled vein. His c.o.c.k jumped. "You're beautiful," she breathed.

He choked back a laugh and then sucked air when she drew circles around the rim of his d.i.c.k with one finger. He held himself so tight he could feel the chords along his neck bulging. The pressure built to unbearable proportions. When his seed wept out of the tiny slit, she touched her finger to it and smoothed the creamy liquid along his skin.

If strangling on his own l.u.s.t was any indication, he'd never make it through this.

"Smooth," she whispered. "Not at all like the rest of you." She sighed. "I think I'd like to taste you."

He groaned, but his c.o.c.k twitched in antic.i.p.ation.

When she cupped his b.a.l.l.s, he hissed in his breath.