by Lavinia Kent
A part of her wished to pull free of the pearls. He would let her free, she knew he would. Instead she bowed her head and waited, tension growing within her.
He bound her wrists together almost to the elbows. There was strain in her shoulders, but little pain. He seemed to sense that instant before true discomfort began. “I think perhaps we should create some new memories for your pearls, some that will help you focus on the good. They are too beautiful to sit in a drawer for years when they long to be caressing your skin, but I do not wish you to look at them and see sadness and anger.”
What he asked was nigh impossible, but she would grant him the chance. She nodded, a brief jerk of the chin.
He swung the long remainder of the strand up over her shoulders and then let it slip down so that it lay about her waist; with a slight twist he bound it together, pulling her hands tight into the small of her back, causing it to arch.
It felt delicious. His control left her free, no decisions to be made. She chewed down on her lip, letting the small bite of pain in her shoulders focus her bouncing emotions. There was security in his binding. She should have felt more vulnerability, but with each twist and tie she felt safer, more secure. It was contradictory to everything she would have believed, but there was no denying the truth.
For the briefest of seconds her mind flashed back to Temple, to how she had felt when he’d secured her hands over her head. There had been no safety there, no security. There had been only terror and fear—the need to escape. So why was this so different?
There was only one answer.
Because it was Stephan.
Stephan, who would never hurt her. Stephan, who would let her go in an instant if she gave the word. Stephan, who knew her body—and her emotions—better than she did herself.
Stephan.
She let her eyes trail up his body one more time, those long muscled legs, shadowed in golden hair, the narrow hips mostly hidden beneath the green brocade, the unmistakable bulge at the apex of his thighs that not even the loose fabric could disguise, the broad shoulders, that hint of hard chest peeking out, the strong lines of his neck—and his face. She always came back to his face. She was reminded of her game of moving over his body, saving the best for last. It was like that with his face, his face was the best of all, those lips, that jaw, the sun-darkened skin—and those eyes.
If his face was the best, his eyes were the best of the best. Her gaze finally settled upon them and she saw the heat, but also the care and the concern.
“You are letting your mind wander again. I have the feeling I would not mind the track that it follows, but for these moments I want you focused where I wish, to focus on nothing but the sensations that you feel.” He lifted the remainder of the pearls and held them before her.
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry—and not with old memories.
He looped them about her shoulders again and pulled them tight, looping them about her again and again. As each row pulled tight, hugged against her, she felt herself caught more and more in his web, bound tighter and tighter to him, and not merely in the physical sense. With each twist she felt her soul, her entire being, become more bound to him.
After the third or fourth loop he stopped, holding up the remainder of the strand. “Now, what should I do with this?”
Her gaze dropped to her body, to the rows of pearls crisscrossing it, holding her secure. The imprisoning bonds ending just before her breasts, the darker skin of his hands stark against her pale curves. Her eyes fastened on the glistening pearls as they pulled tight against her flesh, the bonds no longer of memory but of this moment. She watched as he twisted the pearls once more and then brought them up further, tightening them about her breasts, circling up and over and then again. The pearls should have slipped free, should not have stayed caught, binding her breasts in tight circles, but they did. Something in Stephan’s magic fingers caused them to stay, to press her breasts up and forward, straining to be free.
The bite of the tight pearls constrained her with each intake of breath, forcing her to stay locked in the moment, in the feel of Stephan’s touch.
He gave one final twist and then with a few quick movements of his fingers fastened the diamond clasp in such a way that it held the whole thing tight. She hadn’t paid attention to the clasp in years; the strand was so long that her maid always draped it over her head, again and again and again in long loops. Now she focused on the diamond star fastened in the center, right between her breasts.
“You do look the picture. Should I move you so you can see yourself in the mirror? I am afraid there’s not one above the bed here, but I am sure I can position the standing one. Or should I leave you wondering at your beauty? Wondering at how the pearls glow against your skin and how your skin glows in return, wondering at those small helpless hands clasped behind you and the soft indent of your belly surrounded in precious gems? And your breasts, do you see how they swell, how they react to the binding?”
His words caught her, pulling her into the fantasy of the moment. He continued, “I’ve tied them with such care, made sure the blood will flow to them, that the nipples will swell and beg for my touch, that your flesh will be sensitive, that even the brush of the softest feather will send trails of lightning down between your legs. Do you know your upper thighs already glisten with moisture, shine fighting the pearls for radiance? I don’t know where to look, you are all so beautiful—and so mine. My captive and my captor all at once. All I can do is look at you in your entirety—and I do see all of you, Bliss, never doubt that.”
He took a step back, but his whole focus remained on her. Even when his hands went to the tie of his robe, letting it fall open, his eyes held hers, saw only her. His fingers fastened around his cock, wrapped about it, moved up and down in a slick, sure gesture—and still it was her that filled his gaze, filled his mind.
Her mouth watered, and her gaze dropped to his cock, to the wide thick shaft and throbbing vein that ran along the underside. Parting her lips, she let her tongue moisten them.
“We do think alike,” he said. “Do you know how long I have fantasized about placing you on your knees, your mouth ready? How long I imagined you in my bonds, mine to do with as I will?”
Her eyes dropped as desire took her. All she could do was shiver at the tone of his voice, words deserting her, her body tensing beneath the bonds, waiting.
Chapter Thirty
She was so beautiful. He could be gazing at her continually, hardly blinking, and between one moment and the next her radiance increased. There was no explanation for it. In his brain he knew she looked the same, but his eyes, and certainly his heart, would not believe it.
He let his gaze roam over her, the blond curls cascading down her back, the eyes that had stared into him a moment ago and now swept down, the long lashes dark against rose-touched cheeks, the narrow shoulders, the full breasts begging for his touch, the uptilted nipples red and peaked, the narrow waist, the rounded hips, the long legs topped with golden curls—and the pearls, the bonds. He could not miss those. She was his every fantasy; now in this moment she personified every dream he had ever had, every desire that had ever taken him. And she was his.
It was almost more than a man could bear. He reached out a simple finger and pressed the diamond star against her breastbone, watching as the pearls strained at even that tiny gesture, pulling tight against her skin. He would have to watch them with care. He’d never bound a woman in such a fashion before and he was not sure how long it would be before the pearls began to dig into her skin. The last thing he would ever want was to injure Bliss.
He let his finger trace up her breast, observing how the skin was beginning to pinken. That was something else to watch. He’d always liked how binding could increase sensitivity and cause some swelling, but he’d never had any desire for red balloons. He was a subtle man and his tastes in such matters were subtle also—a little was good, even glorious. Too much and…No, he did not want to go there.
He stepped back, his finger falling from her skin.
So beautiful.
His cock jerked against his belly, eager to begin.
He let his hand drop to stroke it again, imagining her lips about it, her tongue…
And why imagine any longer? He’d seen the hunger in her eyes, knew her fantasies ran in line with his. “Do you need assistance to kneel?”
Her eyes jumped up to his. She understood him perfectly. Her chest rose and fell more rapidly, her breasts pressing tight against the ropes of pearls.
She took her own step back, bent slightly at the knee, quivered. He could see the thoughts run through her head, the desire for independence versus the knowledge that toppling over and landing on her ass was not the most graceful of choices.
“Would you please help me down,” she requested, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and held her steady as she carefully lowered herself to her knees. When she was down he let his hands drop and just gazed at her again. His cock twitched again. Except for the pearls, he’d fallen asleep many a night with this image in his mind. And the reality was better. And she was his.
He felt the first drop of cum seep to the head of his prick.
He was likely to explode if he delayed much longer.
“Open,” he said.
Her lips parted, her tongue darting out to wet them. Every fantasy, indeed.
His hand fell back to his cock, stroking it lightly, and then harder, rubbing the drop of moisture into the skin.
Her eyes were focused on his movement, her chest lifting and falling with speed, her tongue slicking back and forth against her lips. Her eyes shot up to his and he could see her desire, dizzying desire.
His hand moved faster, harder, and her eyes dropped again.
He closed his own eyes, but the images his mind formed could not compete with the reality of Bliss on her knees before him, her eyes begging for him, her lips parted and ready.
He took the half step forward, slowed his hand, and moved until the tip of his cock just brushed her lips. Her eyes locked with his and he could see her questions. Slowly, with great care, her tongue swept out and ran along the underside.
His whole body jerked in response.
He nodded. Her tongue swept again, and this time he forced himself still.
His eyes remained locked upon her, the image as glorious as the sensation.
Her tongue moved again, tasting, testing, learning, each time steadier, with more certainty.
Her face catalogued his every response. She parted her lips farther, and with question in her eyes, she leaned forward.
Nodding his permission, he placed a hand on each side of her head, his fingers digging into her curls, guiding her along.
She circled him completely, at first just the tip, her tongue moving about just inside her lips. And then she leaned forward, her head tilting as she took him, more and more. Pulling back, she breathed, and then moved forward again.
Warmth, moisture, and pressure, the most exquisite velvet pressure. He could have died in this moment and been happy—if only there had not been so much more he wanted to do to her, to experience with her.
His eyes focused on her face as her eyes came up and met his. In, out. Her cheeks puffed and tightened, her mouth sliding his length again and again.
The sensations were overwhelming, his whole focus lost in the slide of Bliss’s mouth over his hard flesh. He felt his balls move up, tightening. He was not going to last long. It was all too much.
His eyes closed against his will. He forced them open, unwilling to miss a single moment of this fantasy.
The urge to thrust hard and deep grew within him, filling him. His fingers gripped her head tighter, tighter.
Her eyes caught his again, held them, as she tilted her head farther back, gifting him full access. He pushed deeper, felt his balls slap against her chin.
God. Oh God.
He saw her desire, saw her pleasure.
Her mouth pressed tighter, her tongue working a trail of sensation and delight.
And it was too much.
He thrust forward, pulling her face tight to him—and the world exploded. Color. Blackness. And sensation, so much sensation. It shot through him, a bolt of lightning blanking out his entire being.
—
Exhilaration filled her as she swallowed. Even when she’d done this the other night it had not been like this. It was difficult to breathe and she did not care. She’d felt the power flow between them, felt her own strength, and for the first time truly understood the potency of giving up control—and still maintaining it. Stephan had guided every moment of the encounter, but only because she allowed him to do so.
Her tongue swept out, capturing the remaining moisture from the tip of his cock. His whole body shivered in response, the overwhelming pleasure of her every touch clear. A shudder of deep desire ran through her. Leaving her wanting and yet so satisfied. For the first time she understood Stephan’s ability to await his own satisfaction as he granted her hers. It was a heady feeling to grant such a gift to another.
She pressed her legs tight as her own need wound in her belly.
Stephan stood still for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he drew in deep heavy breaths.
“Thank you,” he said, taking a step back from her and drawing the robe closed about him. She wanted to moan her protest. Her eyes longed to see more of him. She wanted to taste him further, to examine his whole body again, to bring him once more to that point where he lost all of his careful control.
For a moment he just stood there, watching her, and she wondered if he would leave her, make her wait. He was very capable of such an action.
She had to stop herself from begging before he’d even made a move.
Their eyes met.
“I am going to help you rise to standing,” he stated, bending to place a hand on each of her upper arms. Her calves strained with effort as she pushed off on the balls of feet. Her knees gave a weak protest as she straightened them. It was impossible to tell how many moments she’d been kneeling, so enrapt had she been in her task.
“Hmmm, I love your appearance, but I fear it may be time to release you—or at least reposition you.”
“But I…”
“Are you really going to argue with me now?” It would be impossible to mistake the smile in his voice, or the smugness—and yet still he spoke with complete command.
“No.”
“Good.” He placed a hand upon the diamond clasp and with the other reached out to stroke the curve of one breast.
Her body jerked, surprised by the reaction to that simple touch.
“The binding can cause swelling. And with swelling, tenderness.” His fingers curved up about one swollen red nipple. He pinched lightly, she could see it was lightly, but a deep throb built between her legs and her eyes watered at the intensity of the feeling. “Yes, definitely time to release you. We will play more with ties when I have more time.”
The fingers at the clasp undid it and with a few simple twists the strand loosened about her breasts, although it remained wrapped around her shoulders.
She drew in a deep breath as she felt blood flow back into her breasts, alighting a thousand tingles.
With rapid hands, Stephan unwound her until only her wrists remained tied behind her back. He held her there for a moment and then pulled her against him, his mouth sweeping down to take her lips, hard, fast, deep. He plundered her mouth and all she could do was offer him more. She opened before him, allowing him full access.
He pressed tight, devouring and hungry.
Her toes curled with the delight of it all.
And then her hands were free; she heard the rustle of the pearls falling to the floor.
Her arms ached for a moment as she brought them forward, but then they were about him and all was wonder—wonder and delight. She pressed her whole body to his, feeling the joy of the hard planes of hi
s body, her hands slipping beneath his gown, running over the smooth skin of his muscled chest.
She felt faint and breathless, rising up on her toes, trying to press herself farther into him, needing, wanting.
For a moment all was heaven, and then he pushed her away, holding her from him. Her one conciliation was the glazed look in his eyes and the deep panting of his breath. He might have had an orgasm only moments before, but he wanted her again. She could see it. She could feel it.
“Up on the bed. Now,” Stephan barked the order, and she scurried to obey, climbing up on the high bed.
He bent and picked up the strand of pearls as he came toward her. He lifted them high, letting the pearls play through his fingers as he walked toward her. “And what do you see when you look at them now?” he asked.
Her breasts. She saw her breasts bound and swollen with need. She felt his hands upon her. “I see us,” she answered. “I see what happens between us.”
“Then lie down in the bed, flat on your back. Raise your hands high over your head. Offer yourself to me.”
Without a thought she did as he ordered, feeling her breasts rise high as her arms lifted to touch the headboard.
“Spread.” There was no doubt of his meaning.
She complied, her nerves fluttering with delicious anxiety.
She was not surprised when he wrapped the pearls twice about her wrists, securing them. What did surprise her was that rather than securing them to the headboard he brought the strand back down, laying it between her breasts and then moving the long, doubled end so that it ran down between her legs, the creamy pearls lying against the nest of her lower curls before disappearing between her thighs. She was tempted to raise her head high to see what he was doing.
Stephan chuckled deep in his chest. “I do love your curiosity, Bliss. I must confess I don’t think I would ever have found it within myself to try half of what we’ve done if your eyes hadn’t always been asking for more, wanting to know more. You are my constant delight.”
