Not Until You: Part IV Read Online Free Page B

electrical pulses hopping along my spine. What was he going to do to me with my back turned? My imagination went on a wild ride down way too many paths. I peeked over my shoulder, needing to see what was happening, but a sharp slap to my thigh had me yelping.
    “Eyes forward,” Foster said, no emotion in his voice.
    I snapped my focus back to the door, fighting my knee-jerk instinct to tell him to go to hell, to grab my clothes and walk right through the door I was braced against. He’d warned me. He was trying to scare me. Or piss me off. Break me and my demand to see him this way.
    Footsteps sounded on his hardwood floor. His closet door squeaked open. It took every bit of my self-control to not look back at him. A minute or two passed and then his body heat was radiating on my back, his scent filling my nose. “Raise your hands above your head.”
    I did as I was told, and he grabbed one of my wrists. I glanced upward to watch him wrap smooth black leather around it. A cuff. He slipped a finger between the leather and my skin, checking how tight it was, then strung a chain into the metal loop on the outside of the cuff. Blood rushed through my ears, the white noise sound pulsing with my frantic heartbeat. Sweat dampened my neck. Foster strung the length of chain through something above the door—a black eyebolt that I hadn’t noticed before. Once he had it threaded, he hooked a matching leather cuff to my other wrist.
    When he released my hand, my arms lowered a fraction, the cuffs holding me in place with only a bit of slack. I jerked at them, the metal links rattling, but there was no slipping through the cuffs. I was now chained to the goddamned wall in the bedroom of a guy I thought I knew—but maybe didn’t know at all. The feel and the sight should’ve scared me spitless. But instead of the pure fear of danger, it was like the anxiety of getting on a roller coaster for the first time—adrenaline coalescing with anticipation . . . and trust. Trust that no matter how terrifying the ride, the cart wouldn’t fly off the tracks.
    But when Foster squatted down behind me and locked cuffs around my ankles—cuffs that were attached to each other with a metal bar—my this-is-just-a-thrill-ride mentality faltered. Words tumbled out of me. “You don’t have to lock me down. I promise I won’t run.”
    “Not now you won’t,” he said, a wicked smile crossing his face as he looked up at me. “And this is the
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in BDSM, angel. You don’t know what it does to me to see you like this—all bound and helpless.”
    He rose from his crouch, gliding his hand up from my ankle over my calf and thigh, sending hot shivers twining through me. I pressed my forehead to the door as his touch moved higher.
    “I like knowing that I can do this to you.” His fingers slid along my folds, revealing just how embarrassingly wet I was, before tucking inside me. I whimpered and instinctively, I tried to clamp my thighs together—the stimulation after so much waiting almost overwhelming me. But the bar between my ankles didn’t allow me to close them even a little. “And you can’t do a damn thing about it except stay open to me and accept it.”
    “Foster,” I whispered, not sure what I was asking him for.
    His fingers slipped out of me, and then the length of his body was pressed up against my back. He was still half-dressed, the cool touch of the metal button on his jeans like an ice cube to my overheated skin. His left hand collared my neck, and his right hovered in front of my face, his index and middle fingers shiny with my arousal. “Taste, Cela. Taste how goddamned sexy you are.”
    I closed my eyes and shook my head, almost frantically. He wanted me to . . . I couldn’t. Not with him right there, watching.
    He kissed the shell of my ear. “Aww, don’t be shy now, angel. You’re telling me in all those nights you’ve touched yourself, you haven’t taken a taste?”
    My cheeks went fever hot. Of course I