Page 48 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)

With every grind against Matt’s body, every roll of our hips together, the air around us seemed to charge with electricity.

It was intoxicating—the feel of him so close, so much yet still not enough.

My hands roamed over his back, nails digging in slightly because if this was madness, then sanity be damned—I wanted more.

The release from Matt’s lips felt like the finale of a fireworks show—spectacular yet leaving me yearning for more. But oh, he wasn’t done. He moved down to my neck, his lips trailing a path of fire that licked at every nerve ending.

He made his way to my collar, peppering it with attention, before descending to my chest. There, he found a new toy to play with—my nipple.

Matt took it into his mouth, and that wicked tongue of his started its dance, teasing and toying with a skill that should’ve been illegal.

It was loving torture, and I was the willing victim tied up in invisible ropes of pleasure.

I gasped, unable to contain the litany of moans that followed. “You’ve got a real talent for… mmm… torture.”

His chuckle vibrated against my skin, the sound almost as tantalizing as the sensations he was evoking. Meanwhile, his fingers mirrored the actions of his mouth—twin sources of torment that had me squirming beneath him like a marionette under the control of a master puppeteer.

I writhed under him, each tug and twist sending shock waves that radiated outward from my chest to the rest of my body. It was like being in the eye of a storm—calm yet chaotic—as I rode out each wave of sensation he conjured with his mouth and hands.

“You’re too good at this,” I gasped between moans. It was a compliment wrapped in an accusation—a statement of fact that bore repeating.

Matt hummed around me—a vibration that only added to the sensory overload. “I aim to please,” came his muffled reply, sending another jolt through me.

By the time he decided my nipples had endured enough sweet agony, I was breathless and dazed—a kite caught in a hurricane. His trail of kisses didn’t stop; they descended farther down my belly, an explorer charting unknown territories with every press of his lips.

And then there it was—the moment when his mouth found my cock. The sensation was immediate and intense, a white-hot blaze that burned through me as he took me in. His lips were heaven; his tongue was sin itself—flicking and swirling in ways that made coherent thought impossible.

I groaned—loudly—my back arching off the bed as if pulled by strings only Matt could see.

My fingers tangled in his hair involuntarily as he worked me over with an expertise that bordered on supernatural.

But even then, Matt wasn’t satisfied with just one source of pleasure—he needed more; I needed more.

His teasing finger traced lower until it brushed against my entrance.

The sensation was nothing short of celestial, Matt’s mouth working me with the fervor of a man possessed.

My toes curled so tight I feared they might cramp, and stars exploded behind my eyes, a private fireworks show courtesy of his expert tongue.

I rode that high like a roller coaster with no intention of slowing down, soaring over the peaks of pleasure until I spilled into Matt’s mouth.

He drank me down like I was the elixir of life, and I was still floating somewhere in the stratosphere when he hoisted me up and kissed me so deep it felt like he was reaching into my soul.

The taste of myself on his lips was strangely intoxicating—like a fine wine you can’t afford but drink anyway because, hell, life’s short.

Before I could even consider coming down from my Everest of ecstasy, I felt him—hard and insistent—pressing at my entrance.

A new wave of sensation crashed over me, rolling in hot on the heels of my orgasm.

It was like trying to catch my breath after sprinting a mile but in the best possible way.

It was an invasion, but the most welcome kind—a pleasure so acute it bordered on pain.

Matt began to move within me, each thrust a shock wave that reignited the pleasure that had just begun to ebb.

I clung to him like he was the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control, nails digging into the muscle of his back as if I could anchor myself in the eye of this storm of ecstasy.

His rhythm was unrelenting—hot and hard and fast—and God help me, it was exactly what I craved.

Each thrust targeting that spot inside me like a homing missile programmed for maximum impact, sending squirms of delight through my body.

Every fiber of my being sang out for more, each nerve ending sparking like faulty wiring in an electrical storm.

We were lost in it—the timelessness of pure pleasure—as Matt pounded into me. With every thrust, I welcomed him with open arms—or legs in this case—and open heart. The man was a machine in all the right ways, and damn if I didn’t love every second of it.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better—faster, harder, deeper—he shifted gears again.

Legs over shoulders, he dove deeper still, deep enough to touch my soul.

One climax rolled into two and then three as he pushed down on me with each thrust, driving us both toward oblivion.

And when he finally came deep inside me, it was like all the slot machines in Vegas paying out at once—a cascade of sensation that left us both spent and panting.

There we were, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat-drenched sheets, still catching our breath from the kind of earth-shattering climax that would’ve registered on the Richter scale.

Matt collapsed onto me, a solid weight that felt like home.

His lips found mine in a kiss that was somehow both a victory lap and a gentle reassurance.

“That was incredible,” he murmured against my mouth.

My brain, still foggy with the afterglow, managed a dazed nod, a bobbing like one of those dashboard dolls.

Matt rolled off with the grace of a panther leaving its prey.

He stood, muscles still thrumming with energy, and sauntered into the walk-in closet.

Curiosity pricked at me as I sprawled on the bed like a damsel in distress—or maybe the prince who’d been thoroughly rescued—catching my breath and getting my bearings.

He emerged moments later, an armful of silk ties clutched to his chest. The array of colors splayed out on the bed like a peacock’s fan. “Pick one,” he said, that devilish spark in his eyes.

Humoring him, I reached for a deep-blue tie with silver accents—understated but classy. “This one.”

“Good taste,” Matt said with a nod before he snatched it up and draped it around his neck. As he tied it in a casual knot, I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Doesn’t a man look sexy in just a tie?”

My gaze swept over him—naked except for that strip of silk—and damn if he didn’t look like every fantasy I’d never admitted to having. “You’re right,” I said as heat curled in my belly again.

He chose another tie then—a bold red—and approached me. As he wrapped it around my neck, his fingers brushed against the choker he’d given me earlier, sending a shiver down my spine.

Once the knot hung loose at my collarbone, I looked up at him through my lashes. “So now I’m part of your tie club?” I quipped.

“You look cute with a tie on,” Matt observed.

I snorted at that. “Just cute? Not sexy?”

Matt leaned in, his breath brushed against my lips, a prelude to the storm. “You’re both,” he whispered, voice laced with a desire that made my insides twist deliciously. “Cute and sexy.”

And then his mouth crashed against mine in a passionate kiss that made my head spin and my heart do somersaults. I was lost in the intensity of it, consumed by the heat that only Matt could ignite within me.

As he pulled back, the corners of his lips turned up in a grin that could only mean trouble, his eyes were dark with promise. “How about we try something a little rougher?” His voice was low and suggestive, sending shivers down my spine.

Excitement zipped through me like lightning, and I nodded before I could second-guess the flutter in my stomach. We kissed again, another searing connection that had me forgetting everything but the man before me.

So lost was I in the whirlwind of our lips tangling together that I didn’t notice the shift, didn’t register the movement behind my back until Matt released my lips with a soft pop.

I blinked in surprise as I realized my hands were bound behind me with one of his silk ties—a deep emerald green that contrasted sharply with the lingering heat on my skin. “Restraining me?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow even as a thrill shot down my spine.

He kissed me once more—a brief touch of lips—and when he spoke, his voice was laced with mischief. “Restriction can be fun,” he assured me, brushing his nose against mine. “Just say ‘stop,’ and I will.”

I squirmed slightly, testing the give of the silk at my wrists. Unsure? Definitely. But what was the harm? The thought of not being able to touch Matt as we made love stirred a strange excitement within me.

We kissed again, fiercely, and I found myself yearning to run my fingers through his hair, down his back, across every inch of him—but I couldn’t. And damn if that didn’t turn me on even more.

Then I felt it—Matt’s hand on my cock—and God, it felt incredible. His touch was masterful, knowing just how to stroke and tease to drive me wild. But then both his hands were on me—moving me—and the sensation… it persisted.

It wasn’t until I felt both of Matt’s hands on my hips, positioning me, that I realized something was off. Glancing down, I saw it—my cock wrapped tightly with another tie.

“What the hell?” I blurted out, staring at the improvised bondage.