“Lucas, I—”
“It’s okay.” He bites my earlobe gently. “You don’t have to lie.” He moves off me, and I hear the sounds of clothes being removed, followed by that of the nightstand drawer being pulled out. I listen, straining, but I don’t hear anything else, and a moment later, Lucas turns me so that I’m lying on my back, my handcuffed arms pulled to one side.
I’m about to ask again what he’s planning to do, but he’s already moving down my body and pushing my legs apart, his powerful hands pinning my thighs to the mattress.
The first touch of his tongue on my folds is startlingly soft, a caress rather than an assault. It both disorients and disarms me. I’d been prepared for something frightening and brutal, but the leisurely strokes of his tongue on my labia and at the rim of my opening ar
