by Sharon Page
In a long, smoldering, melting kiss, quivers tumbled down to hit the throbbing pulses of desire in her quim, and she gasped into his mouth. She ached for him. Needed him. Hungered for him.
“I want to be tied up,” she whispered, when he let her catch her breath. It was just for fun now, and how she loved it.
He said nothing. He did not have to. She just knew from the hotter light in his eyes exactly what he was going to do.
He lifted her and put her over his shoulder.
He’d built this studio for her in his attic, and it was equipped with a sumptuously appointed daybed: silk sheets, thick rose-scented pillows, and gilt-decorated frame. Downstairs his servants took care of the house. In the month they’d been together, she had helped him change the entire house. True, as vampires, they were creatures of darkness, but she had used her artistic eye to make their nocturnal world beautiful—lush fabrics, many candles, rooms opened.
Raven gently laid her on the bed. Then worry struck. “Do we have time?”
“Very little,” he admitted.
“Then you shall have to tie me up quickly,” she admonished, and she put her hands above her head, wrists locked.
He looped a black velvet rope—kept conveniently by the daybed—around her wrists.
“Ooooh,” she murmured at the soft stroke of velvet on her sensitive skin. How she loved this—this was the only fun way to be a captive, to be mastered by a handsome, black-haired vampire who loved to give her pleasure.
He tied a firm knot, and she played her part of the game, tugging on the rope to prove it was secure and she was his prisoner.
Grinning as she fought the rope, Raven bent and flicked his tongue over her right nipple. It hardened and stood up instantly. She moaned, closing her eyes, and arching her back so he would take her nipple in his mouth and suck her hard.
But he never let her take command so early in the game. He played with the aching tips with his tongue, licking and laving with agonizing leisure.
“The time,” she groaned. “We have to begin to dress.”
His tongue left her nipple, which was not at all what she’d wanted. Opening her eyes, she saw him holding another length of rope. He eyed the juncture of her thighs beneath her skirts.
“Maybe they’ll wait for us,” he murmured. Slowly, oh so slowly, he eased her skirts upward.
“They won’t,” she gasped, as her hems reached her knees.
“Not for late guests,” she added, moaning as the fabric glided over her thighs.
“Not at a wedding,” she squeaked as her skirts were thrown up, covering her bare breasts. “Not when they are marrying at night just so we can attend the ceremony.”
“Don’t worry, my love. I can bring you to orgasm very quickly.”
“We have mere minutes.”
“Watch me.” A playful grin touched Raven’s lips, and her heart melted at the sight. How she loved to see him smile. Even though when they were together his lips always lifted in happiness, she never tired of drinking in a grin, a teasing smirk, a soft, genuine smile. Each one made her heart ache with joy.
Raven slid the rope between her legs, and she cried out as it stroked through her nether lips and rubbed along her clit. He looped it around her hips, which pulled it tighter, until it was sawing her hard clit and was soaked with her juices. She was panting, almost ready to explode in pleasure.
“Not yet, love.”
He moved up between her parted legs on his knees. Lifting her hips, he let her bottom rest on his thighs. His erect cock poked her bottom.
“Deep in your ass today, my angel?”
The words robbed her of speech. She squirmed and that tugged the rope, which stroked her clit. Yes, oh yes, please.
His hands cupped and firmly massaged her bottom. That alone made her head loll back in delight against the bed. His thumb moved against the strips of rope positioned between her bum cheeks.
He held his iron-hard cock against her entrance.
She was ready for him, so aroused her tight little opening was slack and open in invitation.
His thumb dipped in, teasing the sensitive rim. Then his cock slid in. So huge, yet she loved to be so full.
Panting, she rocked her hips up and down, taking every inch of him up her derriere. He gently thrust his hips, shoving deep. So deep she felt his groin slap her ass.
God, it was so good with the rope rubbing her clit, his rock-hard prick sliding in and out of her rump. So good. Heavenly good.
“Raven!” She screamed his name at the impact of her climax. It showered over her, thrilling her, taking her, commanding her. Just as he commanded her.
“Felie,” he gasped. His hips drove against her, making her rump jiggle, as he banged his cock deep. He arched back, and heat and fluid rushed inside.
He rocked against her and he was commanded by his orgasm, by their shared pleasure.
Then his head dropped forward, and he took ragged breaths. “Heaven,” he muttered. “Fucking you is like touching heaven.”
She giggled. “We must get ready. You are to be the best man, at the groom’s side.”
“And you are maid of honor. Though not a maid much longer.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned.
He winked, then left the daybed. He returned with an ewer of cool water and a cloth, and he cleaned her studiously. But he didn’t untie her.
When he finished, he tossed the cloth in the porcelain pitcher but still left her wrists bound.
“Won’t you let me go?”
“I’d like to keep you my captive a little longer. To do this—”
Long strides took him to his clothes, lying across the arm of a leather chair. He searched the pocket of his tailcoat. Holding something in his palm, he returned.
He approached the daybed from the side. She wriggled her fingers, now feeling more anxious. Time was ticking past, and she refused to be late for the wedding of Harry and Frederica. “Raven—”
“Ophelia, will you marry me? I am deeply, passionately in love with you, and I want you to be my wife forever.”
The words poured out in a rush. Her commanding vampire blushed. Then he held out his hand. Between his index finger and thumb he held a ring bearing a huge, heart-shaped ruby. A bloodred ruby.
Leaning over her, he slipped it on the ring finger of her bound left hand.
“I haven’t answered yet,” she pointed out.
“I didn’t want to give you the chance to say no,” he muttered.
“Say no? You truly thought I might? After everything we have been through, you thought there was any chance at all I might refuse you?”
He nodded. “I did take you prisoner, after all, and I—”
“My answer is yes!” she broke in. “Yes, I love you. Yes, I want to be with you forever.”
A second later, he kissed her, a lush, long, breathtaking kiss. His hands tore through the cords holding her wrists, and he undid the ones teasing her quim.
“Now, can we go to the wedding?” she breathed. “Though I do have one more surprise for you, Raven.”
He looked so surprised, she giggled. “I am enceinte, Raven. We are going to have a child.”
He closed his eyes and rocked back. Then he grinned. And let out a whoop of joy. He drew her into his arms, lifting her off the bed, and spun her around.
“I never believed I could be so happy,” he whispered against her ear.
“Nor I. Now, we must hurry. We have a wedding to attend.”
“The next one will be ours. Ophelia, my love, my heart will be bound with yours for eternity.”
He kissed her again, and Ophelia knew her dress and hair were going to be done rather hastily for the wedding, for all she wanted to do was make love to her fiancé.
Again and again and again.
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