He eyed her as her nightgown slipped to her feet.
When she was about to ease off her bra, he called out.
‘Wait.’
Stepping forward, he slung a diamond-encrusted rope around his neck and joined both scimitars in his left hand.
With the gold-hilted blade in his right hand, he reached, slid it between her skin and her lace straps, and then, with a smirk, turned the knife’s edge.
One strap tumbled, the sharpness of the stiletto slicing like butter.
She gasped, and he ignored her.
He moved to the other fastening and did the same.
Then, to the bridge midway between the cups, without touching her.
The fabric fell away into scraps on the floor.
Saba took a long, shaky breath as he withdrew to feast on the vision he’d revealed.
Her tits, heavy, rounded, tipped with hardening rose nipples, made Mak bite down on his inner lip with need.
In seconds, her underwear, some lacy number, glided off next under his sharp-edged scimitar.
He almost groaned when her hands went to her curved waist, and she thrust her bust at him in defiance.
Her body was exquisite, just as he’d imagined it all this time.
Her hips were contoured, her thighs glowing like ivory in the dim light.
She stood in front of me, bared and vulnerable yet unflinching, a hint of resistance still lingering in her gaze.
He noted the pulse hammering at her throat, the rise and fall of her chest betraying the tumultuous emotions raging within her, and smirked.
Without hesitation, he pushed her onto the velvet duvet and began to bind her wrists with the silver rope.
He secured them before raising them above her head and attaching them to a hook in the ceiling.
She tensed at the sudden restraint, but her stare never wavered from his.
Taking his time, he circled the bed, his fingers trailing over her skin.
Her breath hitched at his touch. She pressed her lips together as if holding back a moan and refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her undone.
He leaned in closer, his mouth brushing against her ear as he whispered, ‘Are you certain about your choice, wife?’
She shivered at the intimate contact, but her voice was steady when she replied, ‘I’m sure.’
A flicker of something primal and possessive flashed in his eyes as he allowed his gaze to linger on her exposed, glowing, and dusky skin.
Savoring the sight before he grasped the bejeweled scimitar and approached her.
He sank one knee on the bed beside her.
Her breath hitched as the blade gleamed with an otherworldly light.
He lowered it, pressing it to her bosom.
