Another step forward brought him into her personal space and she could smell the gun oil on him. See the dust and grime on his face and the salt grit ...linging to his jacket. White flecks of it clung to him everywhere. She was suddenly conscious of her own sweat, the dirt on her hands, the lank hair that hung in her eyes. Do you want me to hightail it out of here? His voice grew lower, huskier. His perpetual scowl softening, he searched her face, trying to get a read on her. He looked oddly. She stalked around him, allowing him to see the black heels, the corset, the wicked grin. She scraped her nails along his back, enjoying the goosebumps and shivering it created on him. She could literally do anything to this strong and dominant man. Anything. And best of all, he would enjoy it. She grabbed a cold glass of water and, without warning, put his cock in it. Again, he attempted to jump but was restrained by the bonds. She smirked, and punished him with the spatula. It cant be too. More

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