Nicolai yanked back the duvet and shot to his feet. “I’ll be downstairs in five minutes.”
The key slipped into the lock on the gallery door. Thank God, Thomas had the good sense to lock it.
Thomas stepped out of the office as Nicolai entered. He looked exhausted. “Bonjour, monsieur.”
Nicolai gave a curt nod. “Where is Julianne?”
“Downstairs.”
He didn’t even stop to thank Thomas as he hurried toward the steps. Panic had him in a vice grip. Which was stupid. He knew it was stupid. His logical mind knew that Julianne was fine. Brent had driven her here, the door was locked and Thomas hadn’t left her alone. But until he saw her with his own eyes, urgency corroded his gut.
He knew he was possessive. Hello, he was a Dom. But his behavior was crazy. Julianne accepted his need to know her whereabouts, even before they were lovers, but he was acting like a damn stalker. Maybe it was the fact that they were lover.
Or maybe it’s the fact that you're not worthy of her and it's only a matter of time before you fuck up.
Sketches were strewn all over the floor of the studio. Julianne stood with her back to him, her paintbrush flying over a very large canvas in a wild frenzy. The image she created was abstract, but the emerging passion in it was clear to his eye. She must have been working for a while to have made so much progress.
He was relieved that she picked up the brush again, having not done so for quite some time. He didn’t realize his words about her painting would have such a chilling impact on her. He only intended to give her an alternative, not to undermine her confidence. She was a multi-talented artist, but painting was her strongest skill. When he asked why she wasn’t painting, she uttered something about not having any inspiration. He suspected that she was afraid her work wouldn’t please him. His muse was still far too obedient for her own good.
He took a seat on the steps to watch her create her art. Seeing Julianne like this was incredibly sexy. Well, at least to him. She was actually panting and making soft grunting noises while she worked. Her hair was a wreck, pulled up in a haphazard ponytail. Her feet were bare. The white camisole she wore, he recognized. The ratty white sweatpants, he did not. Paint was smeared over her neck and shoulders. It looked as if she had dipped her hands in it and then run them over her body. In fact, that was exactly what she’d done.
He looked at the image in front of her again. This time he recognized it for what it was. A naked woman in the throes of passion. All of the breath left his lungs in a rush.
Julianne is painting herself. Holy Mother of God, is that how I make her feel?
Nicolai felt like jumping up and pounding his chest, but he smiled instead. All the money in the world couldn’t get him to sell this painting. It was his. Every time he looked at it, he would feel supreme male pride.
I have become Julianne’s inspiration.
He slipped upstairs to thank Thomas for staying and ask him to get them something to eat before going back to the apartment. He had a feeling they were going to be there for a while.
*****
Julianne sat behind the desk in Nicolai’s study and opened another envelope.
A wax seal. Impressive.
She looked up when Nicolai cleared his throat and her insides melted, just like the wax. She thought by now she would be immune to his charms, but she was still taken aback by the sight of him. The man was simply too gorgeous.
“You’re a devil. Sneaking up on me like that.”
“I am,” her wolf said without a hint of apology.
She pointed to the stack of invitations sitting on the desk. “You can’t be serious. We’re invited to all these?"
“The Order is a very lively bunch. Life is short, carpe diem, live each moment and all that. But no one goes to all of them.” He laughed, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
She forgot the invitations and focused on him. “Is something wrong, Nicolai?” Please open up to me. Please let me in.
Since moving in, something wasn’t quite right. It felt like a veil hung between them. She could see him and feel him, definitely feel him, but something separated them. She knew Nicolai was hiding something because after all, she was the consummate expert at that. In fact, her expertise only made their situation worse.
She wanted to confront him, but didn’t. Or couldn’t. She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t supposed to challenge him. Or was she? Sometimes, she thought he wanted her to assert herself. The only time he’d ever punished her was when she didn’t trust him enough to do exactly that. But other times, he wanted her passive, insisting on it whenever they made love. The lines were blurred and she was struggling to find her way.
“I want.” He stopped. The tremulous voice got stronger as he amended himself. “No. I need something from you,” he said more firmly.
She moved around the desk with a little sway in her step. “I aim to please, Nicolai, in every conceivable way.”
He responded to her joke with a look like poison. “I have to ask you something very important.” His voice sounded bitter. “When I bound you in the studio, did I hurt you?”
“No. Of course not.” It was only the most decadent, thrilling, orgasmic experience of my pathetic, little girl life. “It was intense, really intense, but I liked it.”
Her eyes begged him to start thinking of her as a woman and believe her, but he answered with another doubt. “Would you tell me honestly if you didn’t?” Now, the voice sounded angry.
She couldn't follow Nicolai’s shifting emotions. She nodded and bit her bottom lip, wondering what she’d done to upset him. He paused, his blue eyes burning into hers, searching.
When she didn’t speak, he continued. “Shibari is a passion of mine. I want to share it with you again. I’ve trained for years, honing my skills. If you let me do this, I promise I won’t hurt you.”
The idea excited her, but the fact that Nicolai seemed to be asking for permission was puzzling. She would do anything for him. He didn’t need permission.
Doesn’t he know that by now? Even though she wanted to say more, she replied simply, “Okay, Nicolai.”
He took her hand and guided her into a spare room. A reed mat lay on the floor with several strands of hemp rope laid out around it. She’d wondered about this room, with its white walls and bare floor. When she asked Nicolai whether it was a home studio, he didn’t really answer, but she got it now and a tingle ran up her spine.
Nicolai positioned her to stand on the mat and began to undress her. His intense gaze roamed over every inch as if he was discovering her for the first time. He didn’t seem angry or hesitant anymore, but the weight of that something still fell between them.
He knelt down on the mat with both hands resting on her hips and pressed his forehead against her belly. Seeing him kneel at her feet gave her that strange, indomitable feeling again. His breath swept over her sex, sending shivers through her as he spoke.
“You are a gift, Beauty. One that I don’t deserve, but I need this. I need this with you.” His voice was almost apologetic as if he couldn’t feel her mounting excitement about what he was about to do. He bent lower and kissed each foot. “I love you, Beauty mine. Thank you for sharing the beautiful contrasts of this experience with me.”
She practically swooned at the beauty in his supplicating gesture. The pressure to talk to him was intense, but her lust-filled mind wasn’t working. The more she tried to think, the less clear her thoughts became. She didn’t want to burden him with her doubts. And she really, really didn’t want to spoil this moment.
Still on his knees, Nicolai began to bind her. Loving hands coiled a rope around her ankles. She gave up on talking. For this moment, she would simply surrender her body to him. Time would eventually work its magic and strip away the barriers between them.
He wove the rope around her calves, working upward toward her knees and she had to use his body to steady herself. He lifted another very thick rope from the floor and doubled it around her wai
st. She recognized this tie. Her excitement mounted as Nicolai tied several knots in the length hanging over her front. Before the rope covered her sex, her kneeling lover began to touch her. Fingers slid between her legs. Languid, intimate strokes slipped wetness and unbearable sensation over her sex. She knew simply by the way Nicolai touched her that her wicked lover was going to take her to the edge and tie her there. There was no quickie with this man. He was all about the slow burn.
She moaned as he spread her swollen lips and pulled the rope up. The coarse hemp cut into her buttery center and the hard press of the knots in all the right places created the most bittersweet sensation.
I see what Nicolai meant by beautiful contrast.
He carefully brought her to her knees so they were face to face, nose to nose, eye to eye, and began to wrap her torso with a thinner rope. He moved slowly, focusing intently on the path of the bind, layering the strands tightly, one on top of another, above and below her breasts. She felt the rough pull around her body contrasted against his light, silken caresses. She closed her eyes, savoring the alternating sensations of hands and rope against skin. Her breasts began to ache from the pressure of the bind. Her breath became shallow in its embrace.
When Nicolai finished, he rested his hands on her hips and pressed his cheek next to hers, cradling her with intimacy. He was so powerful, yet so reverent. This was the contrast in him that she loved the most.
As the time ticked by, that dark, delicious passion charged between them. She felt it consume him. His breathing became more labored even though he didn’t move. His erection pressed against her belly. She let herself float away with him.
After a few moments, Nicolai stood, leaving her on her knees. He raised one arm next to her head and tied a rope around her forearm and bicep, locking them together and pointing her bent elbow toward the ceiling. The palm of her open hand pressed between her shoulder blades. The other arm was tied similarly, hand pressed lower against her back, palm out, elbow pointed toward the floor. He bent to lay the gentlest of kisses on the top of her head and stepped away.
The pain of the ropes heightened at the loss of his touch and she whimpered.
“Your beauty is sublime. Thank you, Beauty mine."
She strained to get closer, but the ropes were tight and held her immobile.
“I’m going to leave for a short time. If you need me, call. I will hear you. While I’m gone, focus on the tie. Feel it run over you. Feel each knot press against you. Let your body speak to you in the silence.” His voice was soft and melodious.
Nicolai turned and she watched him leave, her heart pounding in her chest. She took as deep a breath as she could in the rope corset and tried to focus on what she felt.
Pain. And a whole lot of it.
This position was much harder than the last. It would be difficult to hold it, but for Nicolai, she would. He didn’t have to tell her with words how he felt about involving her body in his craft. The adoration on his face and the care in his hands as he bound her said it all.
Fear.
Seeing Nicolai leave filled her with anxiety, but the feeling wasn’t because of the tie. She always felt anxious without him. No, she wasn’t afraid. She was safe. Always safe with Nicolai.
Desire. Definitely desire.
It pooled deep in her body. She shifted slightly and the tie between her legs sliced into her sex, the press of the knots eliciting an ache as fresh moisture seeped into them. Twisting and stretching in the tight wrap, she followed the grating trail of the rope over her body luxuriating in its torment. She wanted to feel every inch, every knot, grind against her bare skin.
The more she moved, the more it hurt. The more it hurt, the more she moved. The soreness twisted into erotic sensation and she couldn’t resist its decadent lure.
God, you really are a dirty girl. She smiled to herself as the burn of the rope intensified. And you belong to a very dirty boy.
Peace.
Just thinking about Nicolai and all the wonderful, wicked things they did together made her shiver. They were two halves of a perfect whole. She was wrong to have doubted him. She counted the seconds, controlling her breathing, and waited for her lover to return.
When Nicolai reentered the room, she smiled up at him. He set a mirror down at her side, but his body blocked her view. His mouth swept down to take hers. Unable to hold back, she thrust her tongue into him to pull him to her with a ferocious, demanding kiss. He didn’t resist her greedy entreaty and with a sexy groan, kissed her hard. Skilled, graceful hands ran over bare skin and pressed against rope, heightening the contrasts of this intimate possession. He moved quickly as if he wanted to blur the pleasure of his touch and the pain of the bind. The whirlwind swept her up. Her mind was spinning, begging for more of this new seduction.
When they were both straining for breath, he gripped her chin and turned her head to the mirror. “You are my masterpiece,” he rasped, his eyes heated and hypnotic.
Her entire body was covered by an intricate weave of knots and rope. Nicolai had created a masterwork of contrasting symmetry and asymmetry with her body and a few simple pieces of hemp. The artistry was exquisite.
“Shall I untie you now or can you remain for a few more minutes.”
“I can remain.” It would be a tragedy to destroy his creation.
He wiggled her hand. “Tingles?”
She nodded.
“Then you cannot remain.” He began to untie her arm and a terrible stillness came over every part of him. Except his hands. They moved faster. “Beauty, what did you do? Did you fight the bind?”
He sounded upset, but his face was calm as deft fingers quickly released each rope.
“I wanted to feel it. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Look what I did to you.” His hands ran over her reddened skin. “This is no masterpiece.” His voice had become so sad, almost remorseful.
She thought with the small part of her brain that still functioned that she should insist that the hurt was a good hurt, but her head lulled forward. She felt mildly dizzy and then collapsed into his waiting arms, overcome by a crushing exhaustion. Her eyelids felt as if they had been glued shut. She was too tired and too dazed to speak.
It felt surreal as Nicolai laid her limp body over the mat. Every limb felt heavy as if an invisible weight was pressing her to the floor. He began to massage her hypersensitive skin with oil. She couldn’t move. All she could do was lie back and mewl as he lifted and manipulated her listless form. He paid particular attention to the place where the ropes had been, the touch of his hands a magnificent contrast to the sting left by the binds.
Forget shibari, Nicolai must have honed his skill as a masseur over years of practice. I’m in heaven.
Nicolai moved between her legs and she vaguely hoped he wasn’t going to ask her to pleasure herself. That was one his favorite "Julianne activities," but her arms felt like lead. He put his hands flat on the floor next to her hips and bent over her torso. His tongue, only his tongue, touched her, sweeping over the one knot of pulsing need he’d left on her body. She felt raw from the rope and the long, hot strokes were so soothing.
Lost to the bliss of his mouth, she barely registered his words. “I’m sorry.”
I’m not.
When he closed his lips and sucked, the intimate kiss carried her away.
*****
For such a quiet woman, his Beauty certainly liked her music loud.
Christ, it's worse than the Dungeon.
Music blared through the apartment. The chandelier actually vibrated with each pulse of the pounding bass. Nicolai climbed the steps toward the source of the cacophony, amused once again by the fascinating blend of contradictions in his woman. When he twisted the knob, tangible noise blasted through the door. The sight that greeted him made him laugh out loud, but the sound was dwarfed beneath the riotous notes.
Julianne was dancing, lost to the music, dressed in the fuchsia bra and panty set he’d given her. The color was
spectacular against her pearl skin just as he knew it would be. Her body swayed in time with the beat, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders, caressing her as she moved, the graceful, seductive movement of a very sensual woman. It certainly wasn’t his kind of music, but his hat was off to any artist who could do that to a woman.
She didn’t see him enter and he took the opportunity to enjoy her unsuspecting performance. Seeing Julianne unguarded like this was a gift. Just another in the long list she’d given him.
The woman swaying in front of him was almost unrecognizable from the skittish girl he’d met all those months ago. Every day with Julianne yielded some new fascination, some new facet to love. All of the little glimmers of her personality that he’d seen before bringing her home were sparkling in his care and he was outright proud of that fact.
Julianne was more open, so much less afraid, so much more fun. With him, she was vivacious, flirtatious and playful. Hell, given who she was playing with, she was downright daring. It was miraculous. A fleeting thought that perhaps he could stop babying her crossed his mind, but he dismissed it.
He cleared his throat, but she didn’t react, only continued her sexy dance. He shouted over the singer’s shrill cry, “Very pretty, my Beauty, but you’re going to make yourself deaf.”
She turned, eyes wide, and froze. Scrambling for the remote to the stereo, she shut off the song and stammered, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
What the hell is this reaction all about? She looks terrified.
Deafening silence filled the space between them.
“You didn’t.” He looked at her with a question in his eyes.
Her gaze dropped to the hands twisting together in front of her belly. She said nothing.
Why does she quake like that?
Julianne suddenly looked so young and insecure, notwithstanding the alluring outfit and the seductive dance she had clearly been enjoying only a moment ago. He loved this side of her. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it before.
Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) Page 21
