Chapter 41.-2
“It’s been a busy few days,” I muttered. “You took your time that first night. About our third
go-round.”
“Think of that night often?”
I did, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him. “I imagine everyone’s first time is memorable.”
His eyes darkened, and I realized that was not the right thing to say. “You were nothing that I
couldn’t handle.”
“That’s true,” he said huskily. “You take me like a fucking dream, Nyx. It really fucks with a man’s
head.”
“That was my plan all along. Bring you to your knees, and then put you to work once you’re down
there.”
Grinning, he sank into a kneeling position. “I understand when I’ve been given an assignment.”
He made short work of my pants and lifted one leg to hook over his shoulder. I tensed my body in anticipation, but he was shockingly gentle. I squirmed, but his hands around my waist were anchors, and I slowly dropped my head back, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the gentle pleasure of
his mouth.
When he increased the pressure, I moaned, but his movements were slow. Torturously slow.” Rhyson, please. Please!”
His fingers just dug in tighter, and when I struggled harder, he stopped altogether and rose. Effortlessly, he picked me up and tossed me onto the bed. I bounced and cried out when he leaped on top of me and straddled me. “Since you can’t behave, we’re going to do this my way,” he said ominously witha smirk. “I found these this afternoon, and it’s all that I’ve been thinking about all day.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I doubted there was much that could take his mind off his mission. Then I felt the touch of fabric on my wrists, and I jerked away.
Rhyson froze and closed his eyes. I looked over to see the thin strip of fabric in his hand that was tied to the bedpost. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m an idiot. You’re probably not comfortable being restrained, are you?”
I was not, at least, not with anyone else. But with him? I slowly put my arm back. “I want to try it,” I
whispered.
Opening his eyes, he stared at me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push you into anything that you
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aren’t comfortable with.” I nodded, but he still hesitated. “The moment you feel uncomfortable, you
tell me. Swear it.”
“I swear.”
Leaning over me, his breath hot against my skin, Rhyson kissed the top of my head with a
tenderness that contrasted sharply with the fire in his eyes. He picked up my wrist gently, his strong fingers tracing the pulse point there before wrapping the soft, silken fabric around it. The material was luxurious-smooth like velvet but unyielding as he knotted it securely to the bedpost.
His voice was a low, soothing rumble the entire time.
“These are quick-release knots, baby. It’ll only take me a second to free you if you need it, okay?
Just say the word, and you’re out.”
“All right,” I breathed, my voice already shaky with anticipation.
His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unwavering, as if he were cataloging every flicker of emotion on my face, every subtle shift in my breathing. He moved to my other wrist, repeating the process with deliberate slowness, the fabric whispering against my skin as he tied it tight. “Still comfortable? No pinching? Tell me if it’s too much.”
I tugged experimentally on my arms, testing the give, and my heartbeat skyrocketed when I realized there was none. I was truly bound, helpless beneath him, my body spread out like an offering. I waited for that primal instinct to surge up in protest, to claw at the vulnerability, to demand freedom. But she stayed silent, dormant, utterly content. No fear coiled in my gut. Instead, a throbbing heat bloomed between my thighs, raw anticipation making me slick and
aching.
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