Did he really think he had to keep a constant reminder of her capitulation literally attached to her? As if she was going to forget why she was still here?
She felt the whisper of her fingers brush the skin below her breasts, then the very slightest of tugs on the ribbon. “Even now you’re struggling to fight against me.” He tugged ever so lightly again. “Against what this means.” He leaned so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. “I think you do need a reminder, something to stay focused on.”
She shifted away from him, only slightly, but very tellingly. The ribbon dropped back against her skin and she felt him move away from her. Dammit!
“Every time you want to rebel, imagine that the feel of that soft velvet at your throat, the satin caressing your skin, is my touch. My hand, guiding you. And let me. Let me.”
She hated to admit he might be right. She didn’t want to think of it that way, like a constant presence, holding her, binding her to him. What she wanted was to demand he just get on with it. But the timing, along with everything else, was up to him. Damn, damn, damn. She’d never last.
But oh, the ache burning between her legs begged her to try. Never would she have thought that giving herself like this…to him…would excite her to such a degree. But he’d known. Of that she was sure.
Is this how he’d felt when she’d pinned him to the bed? When she’d taken him however, whenever and wherever she’d wanted? She’d never thought about it that way. Of course, he’d willingly given himself over to her, so this type of intense foreplay, along with constant reminders and repeated requests, had never been necessary. But he’d always enjoyed wherever she’d taken him—something she needed to keep first and foremost in her mind as she now allowed him the same privilege.
“Kneel.”
The command startled her. Rattled her. “I—”
There was a slight tug on the silk ribbon. She bristled. Wasn’t it enough that she was tolerating this much?
“Samantha.”
There was neither warning nor plea in his tone. Just expectation.
So, what did she expect? Of him? Of herself? Do you want to stop? her little voice asked. Or do you want to find out what he has in store for you?
She wasn’t sure who was more shocked when, thighs trembling, she slowly lowered herself. Dear God, what was she doing?
Finding out.
She braced for the bite of the hard wood into her knees, but something soft had been put on the floor in front of her.
“Don’t move.”
She said nothing to that command, but he couldn’t rein in her thoughts. She might be a willing participant here, but there was no stopping her instinctive reaction. Of exactly how, precisely how in fact, she would exact her revenge when it was once again her turn to be in charge. Of course…he might not object to anything she could dream up. And that very idea only served to incite her further. She’d never felt so on edge, so electrically aware, in her entire life.
“Busy plotting, my darling?”
She swore beneath her breath, but realized that a part of her was pleased that he knew her so well. He knew her, and he still wanted more. There would be no secrets between them, no need to ever pull back, to pretend to be anything less than what she was.
“I hope you are,” he said, his tone just a bit rough. “In fact, I can’t wait to find out what you have in store for me.”
His confession elicited another strong response in her. So, she knew him well, too. Which was just as gratifying. Surprisingly so.
She felt the air move behind her and stiffened.
“But for now, it’s my turn.”
Then she felt him nudge the toe of his boot between her feet, to her knees, forcing them gently apart.
“A bit more,” he said, removing his boot and leaving her to move them apart herself. For him. She stifled the automatic urge to do the exact opposite. Grinding her teeth, she slid them an inch farther.
“More.”
How could he tell? It was so damn dark. Still, she slid another inch, then another.
Suddenly she felt his body heat behind her, close behind her. She gasped when she felt him press his lips on her shoulder. He was kneeling, too. Right behind her. Equals.
But before she could decide how to react to that idea, he was taking both of her wrists in his hands, and pulling them behind her. Her fingertips brushed the soft cloth of his shirt as he pressed her hands together until she clasped her fingers.
“Keep them just like that,” he whispered.
Instead of being incensed, or angry, her entire body shuddered in renewed need. She wasn’t to be shackled. No, that would be too easy. He expected her to keep them there of her own free will. Symbolizing to him that she wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t take over. Giving him that much more control over the situation, over her. He knew exactly what buttons to push. What shocked her was that they weren’t so much buttons of irritation any longer.
Then she felt the floor shift as he stood and moved away from her. She wondered at the picture she made, then remembered he couldn’t see her. So, it wasn’t about the pose itself. Because he had no need to see it, she realized. That’s not what this was about. So why the darkness?
She thought about that as she waited, every nerve ending in her body almost brutally sensitized, for whatever he would do next. The deprivation of sight served two purposes, she realized. One, it kept her focus on the action itself, not how she looked doing it, or how he might react seeing her like this. Secondly, it served to heighten her awareness of herself, and of him, while still retaining her pride.
The air shifted then, and the ribbon hanging from her throat shifted with it. Then it kept moving. Back and forth, as it brushed across the sensitive skin of her breasts, her stomach…and between her thighs. She had to stifle a moan as the pleasure both tortured her and brought her to a greater, fevered pitch. Her fingers tightened in their hold on one another.
She grew aware that he was right in front of her, that she could reach for him, drag him to her, beg him to finish what he’d so expertly begun. But her hands were behind her back. And there they had to stay until he wanted them otherwise.
Bastard, she thought…and yet again, it wasn’t irritation over his methods, more like frustration because he was making her wait to find out what was going to happen next.
Let me take you however I want.
Trust me. I’ll never hurt you.
His words echoed through her mind. She was definitely feeling only pleasure. Excruciating pleasure.
The ribbon fluttered more wildly then, as if caught on a hidden breeze. It shifted slowly until it caught beneath the edge of one distended nipple. She gasped, unable not to, then moaned as he flicked it expertly across the engorged point.
He didn’t stop there. He drew the flat of it across the surface of that tingling, tight point of need. Back and forth. She had to work to steady her breath, half afraid she’d hyperventilate as he made her wait interminably long to discover if her other now-achingly hard nipple was to get the same treatment.
The ribbon once again brushed against her stomach, tickled her between her thighs. Her sigh of disappointment swiftly turned into a choking gasp of pleasure as something wet and warm flicked across the other nipple. Once, then again. Until a deep, growling moan was finally wrenched from her when the sweet torture of his warm tongue ceased.
“More?” he asked, so close, yet so totally out of her reach.
She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her.
“No?” She felt the floor shift with his weight.
“Yes!” she blurted, then damned herself for the need she heard in her own voice, the desperation. How had he brought her to this? It was a shock to learn how little she cared at this point.
Suddenly something feather light tickled the inside of her thighs, making her gasp again, and twitch hard. Then it was gone. And she’d have done almost anything to assuage the ripping need that one little caress created. Just one touch, one
little rub and she’d—
Another caress, higher up on the inside of her thigh, just below where she so badly needed it. She reflexively shifted her body, trying to move down onto whatever it was he was tormenting her with, but her spread knees made that impossible. Double damn him!
Another flick, this one whisper soft…right where she wanted it, but too brief to be fulfilling. Another brush, another convulsive clutch of those muscles. She cried out. So close. “Please,” she said, not even realizing she’d spoken.
But nothing happened. She strained to hear him breathing, trying to place where he was, where he’d touch her next. Then there was a scrape that sounded like a match…and a small flickering glow filled the room. She blinked a couple of times, her pupils taking a moment to adjust. Marsh stood several feet away, his back to her as he lit the multiple wicks protruding from the thick, cream-colored candle that sat in the hearth of the fireplace.
Then he turned to her, the light casting his face in shadow, but she knew it bathed her perfectly. And suddenly, sight took on a whole new level of awareness. She was now intensely aware of the picture she presented. She knelt before him like a present to be unwrapped at his leisure. A toy to be played with as he wished. She knelt there at his complete and total mercy.
But now, she was so on edge with need for him, that rather than make her angry, it made her hungry. For more. More of whatever he would give her. She lifted her gaze to his and found she could hold it easily.
He smiled, slowly, yet fully. Animal, predator, hunter.
Lover. Man. Hers.
And that was when she knew. Knew it was going to be okay. More than okay. He was going to make it perfect.
Because she knew then that she trusted him. Trusted he would finish what he’d begun. And that she’d enjoy every scintillating second of it. And that knowledge made her feel both immensely powerful…and completely humbled. She had this man—this man, who knew her needs better than she, who’d pushed her to reach out and take what she’d never dared hope she could have. Take, by being willing to be taken. And, before the night was over he was going to take her.
She would be his. Mind, body, soul.
Her only remaining fear was how to make sure, when it was done, that he would keep her. Forever.
CHAPTER NINE
THEIR GAZES LOCKED, clashed. Marsh watched as her expression softened. Her lips curved slightly, but not in the knowing smile he’d come to love. This was a smile so tender, so loving, it took his breath away. Slowly, she nodded.
Something inside of Marsh settled then, and exploded at the same time. There, in her eyes, he saw everything he needed to see. He saw her want, her desire and, finally, her acceptance. But most of all, he saw trust. Complete and unconditional. She truly understood. Thank God, he thought, all but trembling with the relief of it. She wanted to give herself to him as he had to her. Now it was simply a matter of taking her there.
He only prayed he had the self-control to finish what they’d so dangerously begun.
His body twitched and twitched hard at the mere thought of what was to come. He lit a slender taper and picked it up, then walked toward her. With a hand still shaking from the revelations she’d made, the gift she’d already pledged to him, he reached for her ribbon.
He saw the slight widening of her eyes. He’d surprised her. She’d thought, perhaps, that he was going to reach for her, to pull her into his arms. There was nothing he wanted to do more. But being willing to submit her control to him was one thing. Doing it another.
At least now he knew she’d fight for it as hard as he was.
They walked side by side, along the loft hallway toward his bedroom. As they passed the railed balcony, he saw that the embers of the fire had burnt out below, leaving the main room somewhat chilly and dark. She shivered beside him, but kept her steps measured to his.
He was as aware of her body, the grace with which she walked, as he was of his own. He felt every flex and pull of the muscles in his legs, thighs. His shoulders felt tight after what felt like aeons resisting the natural urge to pull her close, warm her bare skin with the warmth of his body. He kept his hold on the ribbon a loose one, so the satin strip skated across her stomach and hip.
He wondered if she realized how badly he wanted to turn her to him, sink to his knees in front of her. He’d been granted access to every inch of her during their time together, but only as she permitted. Now, tonight, he’d indulge himself in her however he wanted. He could only hope she found it as enthralling an experience as he had when he’d allowed her such freedom with his own body.
Once inside his bedroom, warmed by a low fire that burned in a grate at the base of yet another stone fireplace, he put the taper on a small dresser beside the door, then made her jump when he suddenly kicked the door shut behind her.
“There,” he said, pointing to the massive four-post bed that he’d built himself. The ceiling slanted here, making the room seem cozier, more intimate despite the fact that it took up most of the second floor.
He dropped the ribbon, letting the satin strip swirl across her breasts before dangling between them, stopping just at the juncture of her thighs. She shivered, but he knew from the way her eyes all but glittered in the firelight, that it was in pleasure.
She wasn’t looking at him. Her entire focus was transfixed on the very dominant bed that occupied the center of the room, positioned there because the tall, thick posts prevented it from being shoved back against the lower wall.
She walked to the side of the bed, stopping beside a small footstool that was half tucked beneath it. The mattress was so high, she’d need it if she hoped to get on the bed with any semblance of dignity. He had no intention of robbing her of even the tiniest shred of that. That was not his intention here.
“Stay there,” he said quietly, hearing the strain in his own voice.
She turned to face him, hands clasped loosely behind her back, and held his gaze. Her expression was unreadable. Except for the flare of desire. And need. He had no idea what she was thinking, or how much of a struggle it was for her to let him take control so completely.
“You’re unbelievably beautiful, do you know that?” The words just slipped out. He wasn’t even looking at her body as he said them. Then before he risked giving her any more of an edge than he had, he broke eye contact and bent down. With one grunting tug, pulled one boot off, then the other, tossing both aside. Straightening, he walked to her, feet bared, silently convincing himself he could do this without wavering.
She watched him, gaze fixed, as he stopped just before her.
He reached out, so desperately wanting, needing to touch her. “Do you have any idea the ways I’ve dreamed of taking you?” he said roughly.
Her eyes widened and she trembled slightly. His body jerked in response. He curled his own trembling fingers inward to keep from touching her. Slowly, he schooled himself. Deliberate, not rash. She was giving him an enormous gift here and it was costing her. He wanted to make sure she knew her trust in him was well earned.
“Show me.” Her voice was a tight whisper, barely audible.
But it snapped at every single nerve ending in his entire body. It was a big capitulation on her part. He saw in her gaze that, though she was undeniably nervous, she was also highly aroused. He wasn’t the only one being deliberate here.
Fingers still tightly clenched, he said, “Unbutton my pants. See for yourself what you do to me.”
He had no idea if he’d survive it, and found himself wondering just who was learning more about themselves here, Samantha, or himself? With shaky fingers she fumbled at the hooks that held the waistband tight. Just her fingers grazing the skin of his taut belly made his breath shudder to a stop and his throat go dry.
One hook, then another. Each one made more difficult by the length and breadth of his erection, which strained the front of his formfitting pants almost beyond their ability to contain him. Dear God, he prayed, fighting to stand perfectly still. It took all his w
illpower. His breath whooshed out in a groan of relief as the last hook sprang free.
On legs that were far from steady, he turned so his back was to her. “Take them off,” he told her, the words coming out as more growl than anything. But he was beyond doing anything about it.
He felt her right behind him, as if there was an electric field bouncing between them. His awareness of her was almost painful. He wanted to tear his shirt off, would have paid large sums of money to feel her hands snake around his waist, run her palms across his belly, up to his chest and across the light swirl of hair there. To feel her skate her perfectly manicured nails across the tiny hard nubs his nipples had long since become.
She’d taken him many times just like that. Asked him to disrobe as she walked around him, admiring his body as one might admire a newly acquired possession. He’d never minded putting on a display for her, in fact he’d always found it highly arousing. He wondered if she’d feel the same with the tables turned.
Her fingertips skittered along his waist just then, making him bite back a groan, but instead of taking the waistband edges and tugging them down his hips, she let her palms slide upward instead. As if she’d read his mind. To fully reach around him, she had to move close, which, he knew allowed the billowing white shirt he wore to caress her sorely unattended nipples.
They both gasped at the same time as her body brushed against his. He stilled; she froze. Then she slowly continued to move her hands upward.
He drew in one shuddering breath, then exhaled slowly. He had to stop her. It seemed innocent enough, but he knew her too well. She was too used to taking over. One slip was all it would take….
Her fingertips had barely brushed across his nipples when his control snapped. A second later she was flat on her back, in the midst of a soft down comforter. Marsh stood beside the bed, eyes gleaming. “Enjoy your little adventure?” He could only pray she had no idea what this was costing him.
She paused before answering. Probably debating on what answer would make things easier on her. Her lips curved slightly. “Very much.”
Velvet, Leather & Lace: A Man's Gotta DoCalling the ShotsBaring It All Page 16