I hold my breath as he undoes the front clasp of my lace bra and exposes my breasts to him for the first time.
“Fucking exquisite,” he rasps, then lowers his head to tongue the peak of one stiff nipple. I gasp and arch my back, attempting to push my puckered flesh farther into the heat of his mouth, but he pulls back and controls how much stimulation I receive.
He licks, traces, flicks, and laves, teasing me mercilessly, but I refuse to beg for more. When he doles out the same torture on my other nipple, I grit my teeth and focus on my breathing and not how every time his tongue touches me it shoots bolts of lightning straight to my core. At last, he puts an end to my misery and sucks hard on the peak of one breast, dragging it deep into his mouth, the blunt edges of his teeth scraping my flesh in the most delicious way.
“Oh God yes, more.” He obliges, switching breasts to shower it with the same lavish attention, and for a brief moment, I’m smug enough to think e’s not going to be much of a challenge after all. “That’s it...feels so good...now back to the other side.” Izak freezes, and I wonder if I accidentally said my safe word. “What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing, your grace,” he says with a wicked grin. “But I think you need a reminder of who’s in charge.” Sitting back on his heels, he starts to undo the straps around my thighs holding the mini bullet in place. Once the contraption is off, he rummages around in the duffle bag on the floor and retrieves a length of rope. A really long length.
“What are you going to do with that?” My voice vibrates with excitement, but it sounds a little like fear, which works for my role as abductee.
Izak starts winding the rope in several rows around my ankle, focusing on his placement and the tension. “Chapter twenty-two of The Rigger Who Loved Me. The hero—an expert in Shibari, the Japanese art of bondage—ties the heroine up in an intricate design, then fucks her while she’s suspended from the ceiling.”
Oh, God, I remember that scene. The immense trust and intimacy between a rigger and the sub he binds is unbelievably sexy. But while I trust Izak with a lot of things, suspending me from the ceiling isn’t one of them. Nervously, I glance up, searching for the tell-tale hooks. His soft laugh brings my attention back to him.
“Don’t worry, I don’t have the training for something that advanced.” He flicks his gaze to mine, his eyes searing me like hazel coals. “Yet.”
The image of Izak binding me with intricate knots and careful precision sends a rush of heat flooding between my legs. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of my curiosity—or maybe because I’m enthralled watching his fingers work the silky rope over my skin—I remain quiet while he works. The design is simple. Once my ankle is completely wrapped, he bends my leg so my heel touches my butt and continues wrapping, securing me tightly around the middle of my thigh and calf. After pulling the rope beneath my lower back, he works his way down that side until he finishes at my other ankle. I’m now held wide open for him without any effort on his part, and I can’t close my legs. The helpless feeling only turns me on more.
Izak drags a fingertip down the crease of my silk covered sex. When he grazes my clit, my hips jerk, and I suck in a sharp breath. “You’re so wet I can smell the juices soaking your panties. You’re gonna go off like a rocket, Duchess.”
Out of habit, I revert to my prickly self. “If I do, it’s because I’ve already been denied orgasms for a full week, not because of anything you’re doing, bodyguard.”
He tsks at me. “The bigger brat you are, the longer the denial. Now be a good girl while I play with my new toy,” he says, picking up the Hitachi.
“That’s my toy. Thief.”
“I was referring to your needy little cunt.” Cue wicked grin that turns my insides to mush. “Let’s get this first one out of the way since I know you won’t last. You have my permission to come whenever you want this time.”
I’m about to tell him where he can shove his permission when the wand hums to life in his hand, distracting me as easily as a ball held up to a retriever. The instant Izak touches the large vibrating head to my swollen clit trapped beneath my panties, my back arches with an orgasm that rips through me like a tornado—it’s forceful, over fast, and destroys my resolve to be the tough girl who refuses to beg. That didn’t even put a dent in my sexual frustration, and now that I’ve had a taste, I want to glut myself on climactic highs.
“Jesus, Daria,” he rasps, then rips the last scrap of silk from my body. “Again.”
With immense pleasure, Mr. Blackstone. If he’s in a mood to dole out orgasms, I won’t complain.
This time he lays the toy’s head on my mound, just above my clit. Close enough to feel the vibrations but too far for direct stimulation. But when his free hand comes into play, it’s a whole new story. He runs the pad of his thumb up and down my slit, gliding easily and spreading my wetness over my folds.
“Goddamn, you have a pretty pussy, baby. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve fantasized about burying my face between your thighs.”
“What’s s-stopping you?” I ask, my voice catching when his thumb does a quick swirl around the rim of my opening.
“Nothing could stop me from eating you out like my last fucking meal. But not yet.” Staring into my eyes, he moves the wand down an inch and gives the order. “Come, Duchess.”
And I do.
Before the last waves of my second orgasm have the chance to roll through my body, Izak starts it all from the beginning. He visibly settles into his role of torturer, and spends the next eternity calmly working me to the brink of coming before backing off and letting me slip away from that edge I so desperately want to fall over. Sometimes he lazily strokes his cock, coating his hard flesh in the honey dripping between my thighs. Sometimes he sticks his fingers deep in my mouth so I can taste myself, then I tease him by showing him how I’ll suck his cock.
And every so often, when he’s feeling generous, he gives me permission to come and doesn’t let up until I give him what he wants—my toe-curling, ab-clenching, swear-inducing orgasms.
I’ve lost count when he finally trades in the vibrator for my fat, glitter-pink dildo. “It’s a little on the short side, but the girth is a good match, don’t you think?”
“Are you seriously having a dick measuring contest with my dildo?”
He chuckles. “No, I’m using this to prepare you to take me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Still a little out of breath, fairly shaky, and a lot sweaty, I make as good of an argument as I can in my weakened condition. “I’m prepared. Promise.”
“Humor me, then.”
Before I can ask him what the hell he’s talking about, he bends down and licks a long stripe up the center of my sex. I cry out in shock and extreme pleasure, then revel in the way his talented tongue and mouth devour and savor me like I really am his last meal on earth. When I feel the blunt tip of the dildo at my entrance, I raise my hips in invitation. He takes my cue and works the smooth shaft deeper inside me, twisting it with every stroke while his tongue swirls around my hyper-sensitive clit.
“Oh, God, Izak,” I get out between panting breaths. “Going to come.”
“No, you’re not. I haven’t given you permission,” he says in that damnable sexy, commanding voice. “Don’t disappoint me, Duchess.”
I bite back the complaint and breathe through the growing tension. I don’t understand my sudden desire to obey and please him, but I’ll examine it another time.
“Fuuuck, baby,” he rasps, then nips at my inner thigh. “Such a good girl for me. Your submission is my drug.”
Or never, I think as something in me feels warm and melty. Never examining it works, too.
Izak removes the toy and sets it off to the side. Then he uses some sort of tool to carefully slice the ropes until I’m completely free. I study him as he checks my skin for bruising or friction burns, and the care he’s taking with me adds another surprising layer to what I already know of him. When he’s satisfied I’m not hurt,
his features soften, and he meets my gaze. “What color are you?”
I don’t hesitate. “Green.”
“Be sure, Daria. We can stop now if—”
I pull him down and crush his mouth to mine. Opening for his probing tongue, I pour every ounce of confidence I have into this kiss. The moment he told me to be sure, I was. Because it was then that I realized why I’m still a virgin...I’ve been waiting for him.
Breaking the kiss, I stare into his eyes and say the words I’ve fantasized saying a million and one times. “Fuck me, Izak. Please.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Izak
Fuck me, Izak.
The three words I’ve been waiting to hear from Daria Copeland’s lips for three long years. Okay, there’s three other words I want to hear her say, too, but hopefully that comes later.
Flipping us, I lay on my back and position her astride my hips. “Grab hold of my cock, baby. You have all the control now—pace, angles, how deep, everything. Do whatever feels good.”
I almost expect her bratty side to make a snarky comment about how careful I’m treating her. But I realize this isn’t that kind of moment. Regardless of her experience or lack thereof, this is a long-awaited first for both of us. It’s the first time I’ll be inside the woman I secretly love. And it’s not only the first time she’s had sex with a man, but the first time she’s having it with a man who’s meant to be hers, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
Daria lifts her hips and wraps her slender fingers around my steel-hard cock. I hiss in a breath at the confident way she squeezes me and swipes her thumb over my crown, smearing the drop of pre-cum down to the sensitive spot under the ridge. Her eyes dance with power as she guides me between her thighs. We both moan when my fat crown notches into place at her slick entrance, and it takes all my considerable restraint not to thrust home.
Thank Christ she’s as eager as I am and doesn’t waste any time sinking onto my shaft. We both watch her pussy swallow me whole, inch by excruciating inch, until she’s fully seated and there’s not a breath of air between our bodies.
“Color,” I force out through gritted teeth.
“Green,” she pants. “Very, very green.”
“Then use my cock like it’s one of your toys. But don’t you dare come until I say.”
It’s then the brat in her appears with a smirk and a challenge. “We’ll see about that, bodyguard.” But the sass disappears with a bite of her lip and knitted brow once she starts riding my dick. And I do mean ride. I thank the universe for Daria’s affinity for sex toys because I have to assume this is not typical of any first-timer. With her hands braced on my chest, she experiments with different angles until she finds the one that makes her swear a blue streak.
“Oh, fu-uck. Your cock. So. Fuck-ing good.”
Her broken English is courtesy of her ass dropping onto my thighs in a steady rhythm. The familiar flames lick at my spine as they burn a path south. I’m not going to last much longer, and after all the build-up over the past few hours—hell, the past few years—I don’t want to drag this out anymore, either. I roll us again, putting me back in the power position. Daria smiles up at me, wraps her legs around my waist, and hooks her ankles.
“Color, Duchess.”
“Izak!”
I’m moving before she even finishes my name. I pound into her again and again, the tight fist of her cunt like a vise grip around my cock. Her nails carve rows on my back that spur me on harder faster, faster deeper. The slapping of wet flesh combines with her moans and mumbled prayers, and when she starts chanting ohGodohGod and the walls of her pussy start pulsing, I know she’s close.
Slipping a hand between our sweat-slick bodies, I rub her clit and growl my command. “Come for me, Duchess. Come on my fat cock until I’m fucking drenched in you.”
Daria throws her head back, screaming in rapture as the release consumes her. I follow, my orgasm decimates me, burning fast and hot like a brush fire in a stiff wind. Roaring against her neck, I explode and imagine marking her with the lashes of come I empty deep inside her. In time, my thrusts become lazy and languid with the ebbing pulses from her pussy. And the way her body quivers and breath catches every time an aftershock hits her is the sexiest thing I’ve seen.
I kiss her slowly and deeply, drinking her in and reveling in her taste. Impossible as it seemed, she’s imprinted herself on my soul. Daria is the piece I’ve been missing, and now that I have her, I feel complete.
I have just barely enough energy to fall to the side and draw her into my arms. She sighs contentedly and nuzzles my neck with her nose in an adorable way that I hope becomes a habit.
We stay like that for a long time—her lazily drawing patterns on my chest with her nail as I trail my fingertips up and down the graceful dip of her spine.
“So, kidnapper, what happens now?”
I don’t like the distance she’s injected into her tone, like she’s dragging her armor back on before I even get the chance to tell her she doesn’t need it.
Lifting up to brace myself with an elbow, my breath stutters when I look down at her. Black hair wild and tangled against the white pillowcase, her lips bee-stung from my kiss, and cheeks flagged with a healthy pink glow. She truly is the most exquisite woman I’ve ever known. Regal yet wild, hard but soft, fierce and loving.
“Well, for starters,” I say, “I intend for you to fall madly in love with me—no matter how many orgasms it takes—then, after that, we can discuss marriage and kids.”
She gazes up at me with a smile that stretches from ear to ear. “Kids?”
I give her a fake stern look. “Marriage first, your grace. My family’s very traditional, I’m afraid.”
Averting her gaze, a sad smile appears on her face. “I wish it were that simple.”
“It can be, Duchess, I promise. But we’re not going to worry about that now.” Lowering my head, I trail kisses up her neck. “For the next forty-eight hours, the only thing you’re allowed to think about is which of your novels I’ll pull a scene from next to make you come so hard you can’t move from this spot.”
“Mmm,” she says, biting her lower lip. “Well, I am properly kidnapped, so if that is to be my fate, I suppose I must accept it.”
“My thoughts exactly, your grace. Now, how well do you remember chapter sixteen of Scandalously Submissive?”
Her mouth opens slightly on a tiny gasp of surprise. I can almost see her replaying the scene in her mind as her mesmerizing blue eyes turn a deep navy and she traps the corner of her lip with her teeth.
“Excellent,” I say, staring down at her with a wicked grin. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
CHAPTER NINE
Daria
“This is a mistake,” I repeat for the dozenth time, hoping Izak will believe me this time. But just as before, he gives me an impossibly calm look of reassurance.
“It’s not.”
“I should be the one to tell him. He won’t murder me, but I can’t promise he’ll show the same mercy for you.”
My weekend as a willing captive was a mix of positively earth-shattering and surprisingly…comfortable. When Izak wasn’t showing me new and creative ways he could make me come, we had a ridiculous amount of fun together. We explored the babbling brook that wound its way through the property, and I picked a bouquet of flowers from the garden as he strolled alongside me.
We prepared our own meals as there were no staff on the premises, though I’ll admit that he was more than competent in the kitchen and I was rather clueless. One morning, he even tried teaching me how to flip a pancake in the pan. Most of them landed on the floor, and I laughed so hard my sides hurt—until I suddenly ended up naked and spread on the table with Izak’s head between my legs for what he later claimed as his new favorite breakfast.
But some of my favorite times we shared were the quiet times, where we simply stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms content, peaceful, and yes, wonderfully comfortable. It took less than two da
ys for me to fall in love with my bodyguard and kidnapper. Though, if I’m truly honest, I started falling when I saw him in my father’s study on his first day at Copeland Manor, and I never stopped.
Now here we are, back in front of the study as we argue over how best to handle my father with his stubborn and absurd opinion that I should be married off to a nobleman for my own good. Because I don’t want any of the men my father approved for me.
I want my bodyguard.
Izak smiles down at me and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “God, baby, I can’t tell you how much I admire your willingness to give up your title to be with me.”
“It’s not about that; it’s about what I’m not willing to give up, and that’s you. My parents enjoyed a strong and loving marriage. I want that same happiness with the man I love, regardless of what station it affords me.” Looking up into the warmth of his hazel eyes, I’ve never felt more certain about anything or anyone, ever. “I no longer care about having a title, as long as I get to spend my life with you.”
He releases a slow breath, then raises our laced fingers between us to place a kiss on the top of my hands. “You’re so much more than I ever hoped for, Daria. And I wouldn’t be worthy of you if I didn’t speak to your father on my own behalf. This is something I have to do, something I want to do.”
My brow knits together. “But…he…”
“I won’t let him murder me, I promise,” he says with an amused twist of his lips. Then he cups my face and kisses me, slow and sensual, his tongue gliding over mine with a subtle possession that made my knees—and my resolve—weak.
Pulling away, I sigh in resignation and step aside. Izak knocks firmly on the thick door, then enters at my father’s gruff command to enter. As soon as the door closes behind him, I start to pace. Back and forth, the strike of stilettos on marble echoing in the cavernous hall barely heard above the deafening pounding of my heart.
Why is it taking so long? What could they possibly still be talking about? Panic starts to settle beneath my sternum. I never should have agreed to let him go in alone, I should’ve insisted—
Kidnapping the Duchess: A Hot Bodyguard with Secret Identity Romance, Racy Royals #1 Page 5
