Page 42 of Fragile Twisted Vows
Because I do want to fuck her. Very bad and very hard.
But that’s not how this works. And I intend to show her just exactly how this works. Very slowly and very thoroughly.
“Yes, Lucille. I’m going to fuck you,” I huff out, trying to hide the need in my own voice.
She smiles widely at my words, proud of herself. It’s so fucking remarkable that I want to lean forward and kiss it away from her lips, but I don’t.
Because I can’t.
Because this is as far as I can go with Lucille Fairchild.
Fucking is one thing.
Marrying her is business.
But kissing…that’s a form of intimacy we cannot touch.
We are bound by contract and that is all.
“Nothing more,” I huff out and her blue eyes search mine.
“Say it,” I growl, my hand going to her wrist, tugging the rope from her delicate fingers as she releases a shaky breath.
“This will be it. Body and name. No heart. No soul. Nothing more,” I say over her lips, my own dying to just claim them.
But I know what I’m doing here.
I’ve got everything under control, like always.
She bites down on her bottom lip, her mouth receding from mine. I can’t taste her breath when she pulls away and I hate that it bothers me.
She looks me dead in the eye, her baby blues darkening as they start to rake me from head to toe.
She wants this just as bad. Craves me just as bad as I crave her.
And I know that after tonight, it will never be enough.
I get to claim something forbidden, something I never once should have thought of.
And now it is all mine.
“Nothing more, Damien,” she says in a husky tone, those nipples hardening beneath the white bodysuit I’ve been dying to rip apart since she stepped into my office today.
“Good girl,” I growl as my hand tosses the rope to my other one so that my fingers can tightly circle around her wrist.
I pull her towards the large, four poster bed in the corner. The fabric is a rich, deep burgundy, all crushed velvet with silk sheets. Perfect for naked skin. And I can’t help but grow hard at the potential sight of her skin against my sheets.
The contrast, the touch and the feel…
She sighs as I grip it tight and spin her around in one fluid motion.
Her gasp echoes throughout my room and I love the fucking sound of surprise.
I have to admit that I haven’t heard it often here.
Yes, I’ve fucked plenty of women in here, but they were rich, entitled socialites. They’re used to making a spectacle of things. Life is nothing but a show to them, but I couldn’t care.
Though, I realize now as I take Lucille’s delicate wrists in my hand and tie them around the bedpost, it’s been quite a while since I’ve had a woman in here. Work has been busy, stress has been at an all-time high for me and although burning it off through endless amounts of fucking would seem like the best sort of remedy, it’s not.
