“I love watching you like this,” he murmured. His fingers did something unspeakable between her thighs. “You look so pretty when you want to come.”
“Christian,” she gasped, “if you want me to beg—”
He drew the heel of his hand across her sex, and she lost track of her sentence. She lost track of everything except his touch, the ache it soothed and the demand it engendered.
When he spoke, his voice had deepened. “You’ll know when I want you to beg.”
Her breath came in gasps, her hips bucking up as she tried to press herself into his palm.
But instead of easing her, he pulled back. “Lie down on the bed. Put your hands together above your head.”
She only stared at him, feeling needy and baffled. All she could fix her mind upon was the throb between her thighs, the strange demanding emptiness. And then, as she watched, he reached into his trouser pocket and produced the blue ribbon that he’d unthreaded from her chemise.
Oh.Oh.
Matilda hastened to obey his instructions.
When she had arranged herself as he’d ordered, she looked up. He was staring at her, his expression a strange mix of hunger and tenderness.
“I could not have imagined you,” he said. And before she could register his words, he was above her, taking her wrists in his fingers and looping the ribbon around them, tying her hands to one heavily carved bedpost.
The ribbon was cool and smooth, perhaps as wide as her thumb. She felt it grow taut, and she tested it, tugging gently against the bond. She could move her arms, pull her wrists apart just enough that she felt the pinch of restraint without discomfort. Her breathing quickened.
“It’s a bow,” he murmured, and drew his forefinger gently across the ribbon, then slid it underneath, ensuring the binding wasn’t too tight. “I can have it undone in an instant. You need only tell me to stop at any point.”
She tugged again on her wrists. The ribbon held her back, and sensations multiplied inside her. The soft crisp bed linens beneath her back. Christian’s starched white shirtsleeve against her cheek. His knee pressed into the bed beside her, the rougher fabric of his trousers brushing the outside of her thigh.
She did not feel helpless or frightened beneath his muscular body. She felt vulnerable and yet powerful, needy and wanting and also connected to this man who held her body and her heart.
And somehow, impossibly, she feltsafe.
“I remember,” she said. “I will tell you.”
“Good,” he said, and then he kissed his way down her neck. He paused at every freckle, licking and sucking. “God, I want to leave marks all over you.”
He bit her collarbone, and she heard herself make a sound, a whisper that was not quite his name. His hands caressed her ribs, then cupped her breasts, and both of them moaned together. He bent his head and took one nipple in his mouth, rolling and pinching the other between his fingers.
Oh God, she felt almost out of control, desire wild and sparkling in her veins. The ribbon at her wrists grounded her as she tossed her head and yanked against the binding, arching up into his mouth.Yes, yes,she thought wildly—this was what she wanted. Something holding her fast, something tethering her to the Earth as her body tried to spin itself apart.
But she needed more. She needed—she didn’t know. She yanked against the bond, wanting to put her hand between her legs and satisfy her need—wanting even more to have Christian there, his heavy weight settling at her center, his cock filling her as she came.
He seemed to sense her desperation, because his hands went to her waist, holding her still. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, then sucked again. Teeth this time.
Matilda felt her legs fall open and then squeeze back together. She could not soothe the ache there, and it was all she could do not to scream. “Christian,” she gasped. “Please—”
He continued his torturously slow path down her body, his knuckles kneading her hips. She felt his beard brush the inside of her thighs. Her hips jerked, her body seeking his mouth, seeking relief from this agony of need.
She felt the tiny nip of his teeth at the top of her thigh. A hard suction at the crease of her pelvis.
“Should I let you come?” he said, and the vibrations of his voice drummed into her, a deep hum of pleasure. “Or should I make you wait?”
Make herwait?
“Please,” she said, her voice strangled, “please, Christian. I can’t wait.”
He licked her, the hot slide of his tongue parting her folds. She made a sound that was almost a sob as his tongue circled her clitoris, teasing, testing. His hands came down to her thighs, spreading her legs apart. She felt sensitive and exposed, and shelovedit, loved that Christian held her so.
“Someday,” he rasped, “I want to tie your legs too. I want you splayed out just like this, and I want to fuck you with my fingers while I taste you.”
