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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

COLLINS

I feel … a little tipsy.

The surprise proposal set the drinks flowing, and like I’d said to Sawyer last time we were in Lloyd’s, I am not a girl who drinks a lot.

I’m also freakin’ tiny, so I can handle booze about as well as a toddler.

Searching through my bag for gloss, I find myself giggling at the eight out of ten I gave Sawyer this morning, along with the smug look on his face when I said it.

Truth is, it was more like a nine, but I don’t want him getting ahead of himself.

I’ve got the gloss wand to my mouth when a soft knock sounds against the bathroom door.

“Just a second,” I call back, quickly swiping a clear layer across my bottom and then top lip.

The knock sounds again, and I close the cap, dropping it into my bag and heading to unlock the door.

“Sorry,” I say, pulling it open to find Sawyer leaning against the opposite wall in the hallway, one foot propped up behind him, his black dress shirt open at the collar and dark hair effortlessly styled.

I thumb over my shoulder, working to keep my eyes on his face and not on the tattoos painting his forearms. I recently noticed Ezra’s name inked down the inside of his left arm and found myself wondering if it was a recent addition since I hadn’t seen it before.

“I was just finishing up applying my gloss.”

Not saying a word, Sawyer drops his arms and pushes off the wall, quickly crowding me in.

He shoves one hand into his pocket and tips his head toward a door behind him. “Join me in there for a second?”

I peer over his shoulder, heart thumping against my ribs. “What’s in there?”

“A bedroom.”

With his spare hand, he takes one of mine and turns on his heel, pushing the door open to reveal a four-poster king-size bed, dressed in crisp white sheets, with floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side.

With its monochrome feel, the room is pretty simplistic, only a single dresser along the nearest wall and a nightstand on either side of the bed.

Sawyer spins around to face me, leaning over my shoulder and pushing the door closed with a soft click. “I want to have a little fun, Baby Girl.”

My eyes grow wide as excitement courses through me, heat already pooling between my legs. “Be more specific.”

Up until now, Sawyer hasn’t removed his hand from his pocket, so when he does and a pair of fluffy black handcuffs appears, my heart rate hits a level that has me fighting to stay upright.

I fucking love being restrained.

Sawyer casts his eyes up to the bar connecting the four posts on the bed, licking his lips as he clearly thinks over his plan.

“Where did you get those?” I point to the cuffs.

His attention falls back on me. The room is dim since its only light source is the city beneath us, the street lights accentuating the sparkle in his eyes. “I followed you to the bathroom but got the wrong door, ended up in here. While I was waiting for you to finish up, I found these”—he dangles the cuffs in front of him—“in the dresser.”

I quirk a brow. “I thought you said you didn’t usually go through people’s things?”

He smiles in response, taking a step toward me and opening the first cuff, the sound of the metal firing off sparks across my skin.

“I don’t, but when I saw something fluffy hanging out of the drawer, curiosity got the better of me.”

He’s inches away when he opens the second cuff. “And knowing how much you like to be tied up …” His hand falls to the button on my black jeans, popping it open and then moving to my zip. “Well, let’s just say, I’m keen on discovering just how kinky Collins Mackenzie really is.”

Both hands tug my pants and thong down in a single, quick motion, and just as fast, one arm loops under my ass, picking me up.

I suppress a surprised squeal as he carries me over to the bed.

“What are you going to do?” I ask breathlessly.

With his spare arm, Sawyer swings the cuffs over the bed frame and then lifts me higher. “Secure the cuffs around your wrists, and I’ll take your weight.”

Overrun with need, I struggle to focus on the cuffs and securing them, but after a few seconds, I manage.

Sawyer pulls my pants and thong over my ankles and throws them to one side, fire smoldering in his eyes as he hooks my legs over his shoulders and looks at me with awe.

I’m suspended and completely at his mercy.

And so damn close to coming already.

My pussy is lined up with his mouth, and as he licks through me for the first time, he never removes his eyes from mine, hands clamping around my upper thighs, spreading me wider on his broad shoulders.

I throw my head up toward the ceiling, straining against the cuffs. “Oh—fuck—yes,” I cry out, probably a little too loud since our friends are only a couple of rooms away.

“I want to know something, Collins,” Sawyer growls after another lick through my wet pussy. “You tell me you like it kinky in the bedroom, but has anyone ever made this dripping cunt squirt?”

Of their own volition, my thighs clamp around his head. My needy desperation for him to lick me again drives me wild.

“No,” I croak out. “I’m not a squirter.”

He takes my response as a challenge, parting my thighs wider with his hands and driving his tongue deep inside my entrance.

He momentarily comes up for air, sucking my clit and releasing it with a pop. “If I make you squirt, do I get a ten?”

I double down on the task he’s obviously setting for himself. “I don’t squirt.”

Sawyer sucks me back into his mouth, two fingers entering me and curling to find my front wall.

My head lolls forward, the pressure of an orgasm building, release already flowing freely. “I’m going to come really soon,” I breathe.

Sawyer pulls away from me, his voice full of wonder. “You’re dripping down your thighs, Collins. You are definitely a squirter, and tonight, I’m going to prove it to you.”

Gathering some of my release onto his fingers, Sawyer tips my pelvis toward him, exposing my ass and circling it slowly.

“I remember you telling me you didn’t offer your ass to anyone.” He circles me again, and I buck my hips, pulling against the restraints. “Does that include me and my fingers?”

I’m so turned on, I can barely form words.

Sawyer teases my hole gently. “Speak, Baby Girl. We likely don’t have long before someone comes searching for us.”

“I … I want you to t-touch my ass,” I plead in a broken voice.

Fuck, this isn’t you, Collins. You like to be tied up and dominated, but you’re never this vulnerable.

And definitely never this goddamn needy.

“Make me squirt, please,” I plead once more.

Something akin to alpha-male dominance flashes through his eyes, and his lips tip up into a wicked grin. “The key to making you go off is this.”

Slowly, he pushes his pointer finger inside, working me into a frenzy. Then, with his other hand, he concentrates on my pussy, attacking both holes in the best way possible. I feel the pressure—the delicious, undeniable pressure—as he strokes my G-spot and ass in a perfect rhythm.

“When you feel like it’s time for me to get on my knees, tell me,” Sawyer instructs.

“On your knees?”

He strokes me again, and more arousal leaks from my pussy, streaming down my inner thighs.

“I want to catch every drop you squirt in my mouth, and from my knees will be the best way to do it.”

“Put another finger in my pussy,” I command. “I want to feel so damn full of you.”

Sawyer wastes no time adding another finger, and when he slips a fourth inside me, all I can hear is his moans in response to the way I suck him in.

“Squirt for me, Collins. Hand me a little piece of control. Let go and let me drink you in.”

Two more strokes of his fingers, and the first shot of my release hits his lips. Quickly, he drops below me, removing his finger from my ass and using that hand to support my body while continuing to stroke my G-spot with the other.

“You can go harder than that, Collins,” he croons, massaging my confidence in the same way he does my clit.

I moan, releasing a pleasured whimper I could muffle if my hands weren’t suspended above my head. Instead, I work to keep myself as quiet as possible as, over and over again, I squirt into Sawyer’s mouth, and he swallows me down, licking his lips after each release.

When I’ve given all I have to give, he stands and pulls his fingers from me, wrapping his free arm under my ass and offering his soaked fingers out. “Suck.”

I open and do as he demands.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises. “Now, tell me again how you can’t squirt.”

I’m speechless, rendered to nothing but a puddle as my pussy throbs from its high and my brain desperately tries to catch up to what the fuck just happened.

Sawyer reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key to the handcuffs. “Let’s get you down.”

“Sawyer …” My eyes flare wide when, over his shoulder, I watch the door handle depress. “Sawyer,” I pant, still breathless and recovering. “Someone’s?—”

“OH JESUS, FUCK!” Archer announces, his head craned around the door, eyes practically falling from their sockets.

Sawyer groans into my stomach, pulling me further into his body and throwing an arm across my breasts. “For the love of God, Archer. Get out and wipe your memory clean!”