Page 23 of Gamble (Black Light #38)

REAGAN

W hat the hell had just happened? How had she made it to twenty-nine years old—married and divorced—and just now get her first taste of truly spectacular sex? She’d long ago decided the reality of sex would never live up to the fantasy version depicted in the romance novels she loved to read.

But tonight was the first time the experience had even come close to the romanticized notion she’d created in her head. What scared her the most was that she instinctively knew Elijah had barely scratched the surface of something deep inside her aching to come out.

He’d stepped away for a few minutes, giving her way too much time to analyze what had just happened between them.

She waited to feel regret for having had sex with a near stranger, but that feeling never came.

Neither did embarrassment nor awkward silence.

The only thing she felt between them was intimacy…

and oddly, considering his talk of safewords… trust.

Reagan jolted at the light touch of a damp cloth swiping her pussy from behind.

“Hold still. I want to get you cleaned up.”

Even now, after fucking her brains out, he was a gentleman.

“I don’t know why. You’re just going to get me dirty again. At least I hope you are.” Reagan giggled, sounding more like a giddy schoolgirl than a mature woman.

“You better believe I am, but we need to pace ourselves. Technically, it isn’t even my birthday yet, and by my count, that was only your third orgasm. We still have nine more to go.”

Collapsing to plop her bare ass on the fabric of the couch, Reagan teased. “You were serious about that?”

Elijah didn’t give her a moment to regroup, instead pulling her to her feet to stand in front of him. His hands pinched her shoulders as his intense gaze bore into her soul.

“Baby, I’ve never been more serious. Unless I hear the word red from these luscious lips of yours…” He paused, moving his thumb to graze against her lips, surely smearing any lipstick that might remain across her cheek. “…I’m going to keep delivering on my promise.”

Her pulse hadn’t even recovered from the explosive orgasm from minutes before, but that didn’t stop her heart from lurching at the intensity she saw in his gaze.

She knew he meant every word. Only then did she realize how accustomed she’d become to not believing anything Tristan said since he almost never followed through on anything.

How had she allowed herself to put up with that bullshit? She deserved better.

She deserved a man like Elijah.

The thing was, until she’d met him, she hadn’t even been sure men like Elijah even existed. They were a fairytale. Too good to be true.

“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” Elijah asked, leaning in closer until she felt his warm breath on her cheek.

Unwanted tears made him blur before her. Why was she trying to ruin the fun moment with heavy reflection?

Shaking her head, Reagan forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something. The question is what do I do about it? Let you off the hook, or…” His gaze turned predatory.

“Or what?” she asked, unsure if she wanted the answer.

“Or… I could tie you up and interrogate you until you give up all your secrets.”

The words might be ominous, but Elijah’s sexy grin as he delivered them only flamed her fire higher. Should she play along?

Long seconds turned into a full minute before she decided her next steps. “I’ll never talk. You can’t make me,” she taunted, channeling her freshman year Theater 101 lessons to deliver a convincing performance.

“Baby, I love a good challenge. Hearing your whimpers as I torture the truth out of you will be the best birthday present of all.”

Torture? Interrogate? Whimper?

Why the hell did those three words excite her?

Elijah reached for her hand, pulling her toward the dining room area of the suite.

She’d expected the bedroom.

The brief flash of disappointment that he had planned for them to eat disappeared as he spun her around and pressed her naked torso against the heavy square table until her cheek rested against the cool wood.

His hand pressed against her back as he leaned over her. “Do not move. You understand?”

Reagan’s mind raced through the possibilities of what he might be planning. Each idea excited her more than the last. In her silence, Elijah grew impatient.

His palm slapped her butt cheek, this time harder than he had minutes before. Heat blossomed in her pussy, inches away from the point of impact. She may not understand why, but in that moment, she didn’t care about the why. She only cared about finding out just how hot Elijah could make her feel.

“Are you going to stay in place?” he asked.

Were they still playing their little game?

Before she thought through her options, she blurted out, “You can’t make me.”

Elijah’s low chuckle told her he was having as much fun as she was. A new warmth spread through her. This time she recognized just how much she wanted to give him a birthday present he would always remember.

“I love a challenge. Be right back.”

An odd chill consumed her the second he stepped away. Maybe it was because of having the air conditioning set too low, but Reagan suspected it was more than that.

He was back before she got the courage to move out of position. When he knelt down next to the table, she was confused. Had he dropped something? Why was he on the floor for so long?

Standing, Elijah started pulling the four straight-backed chairs away from the table, leaving her bent over with her ass on display. She’d just pushed her torso up from the wood when his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, squeezing and lifting her onto the table as if she weighed nothing.

She was still trying to figure out what he’d planned when he flipped her to her back. The table beneath her was unforgiving—uncomfortable.

“Why aren’t we in the bedroom?” she asked, longing for the soft mattress instead of the hard wood.

“All in good time.”

The feel of soft silk brushing her left wrist came just before Elijah finished wrapping what she now recognized as the sash of her own silk robe around several times before pulling her arm high and wide until her hand was at the corner of the table.

Only when Elijah bent lower and finished tying the silk to the leg of the table did she realize what was happening.

“Whoa… wait a minute. What are you doing?Before he could answer, she yanked on the fabric, and confirmed she was tied down.

It wasn’t until he’d wrapped the terry-cloth belt of a hotel robe around her right wrist that he spoke.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I warned you I have ways of getting the truth out of you,” he cautioned.

Even though she’d only known the man for one day, she could hear the levity in his voice. It helped push the fission of fear down, allowing her to think about what he might have planned.

As he stepped away from the table, she pulled at both wrists, confirming she couldn’t move her arms.

Red .

She could make this stop with one tiny word. The million-dollar question was, did she want him to stop?

The resounding no that echoed through her brain was telling.

After he secured her arms, Elijah walked to the other side of the table, grabbed both her ankles, and yanked her lower half in his direction. With her arms stretched high above her, her ass came to the opposite edge of the flat wood.

Still boneless from her previous orgasm, Reagan allowed her legs to be spread wide, bending at the knees as Elijah maneuvered the balls of her feet into the corners of the table before barking his next order.

“Leave your feet where I put them or I’ll have to call housekeeping and ask for more robes so I can secure your legs.”

She doubted he would do it, but just the thought of a housekeeper coming to the door and seeing her splayed out and tied down had her core contracting with need.

What was wrong with her?

After hugging her bent legs, Elijah pulled her body even closer to the edge of the table just before taking his seat in one of the high-backed chairs. She could feel the heat of his inspection along with the warmth of his breath against her displayed wet pussy.

His mouth was on her seconds later, devouring her slit as if it were his last meal. Reagan bucked her hips off the table, but Elijah held tight, never losing their connection as he lapped at her wetness.

She closed her eyes, letting the wave of pleasure ease some of the remaining bite of pain their earlier sexcapades had brought. Both sensations married together until she felt herself getting close to that magical edge where she’d fall into an orgasm.

His talented tongue was gone without warning. His nip to her inner thigh his reminder—he was in control. When his fingers replaced his tongue, Reagan thrust her hips off the table in a feeble effort to take his digits inside her.

“Naughty girl. You lay there and take what I give you,” he scolded.

He’d called her his good girl several times that day, but tonight she loved everything about being his naughty girl instead. Not only how it made her feel, but how the words made his voice sound lower… almost desperate. How long had it been since she’d felt like the center of someone’s world?

She pushed aside the thought of the goodbyes that would come the next day. They had tonight, and she trusted Elijah to make every minute of their time together count.

As he pinched her clit, he started his interrogation.

“Now, tell me the truth. What were you so deep in thought about earlier?”

“I don’t even remember,” she answered.

Pinching her pussy again, he refused to let her off the hook that easily. “Then I suggest you think back. I saw a strange look cross your face. I want to know what it was all about.”

It was hard to think through the sexual haze. It got harder when she felt Elijah’s fingers moving down.

Surprise turned to panic, and Reagan bucked her hips off the table in an attempt to remove his fingers from a place they didn’t belong.

“What are you doing?”