Whipped

She drags her mouth from his and raggedly whispers, “I want more.” She tugs and pulls at her restrained hands. If she can just get them loose, she can explore him, devour him, and then leave him. It’s the only way.

“I want more too, and that’s why this is going no further than a kiss. Roxanne, I want us to enjoy each other. I don’t want to rush things. We’ve already waited years, what’s another minute, day, or week?”

Seriously? How is she supposed to get through the day with her body pulsing? Frustration overwhelms her, she screams her annoyance, but instead of the high-pitch squeak she expected, her mouth releases a gravelly seductive growl.