Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(62)

Keeping her eyes shut, Justine waited as he moved to the other side of the mattress and grasped one of her ankles. He took her foot in both his hands, warming her sole, her toes, his thumbs massaging into the sensitive arch. She writhed, delight unfolding like a multifoliate flower. His lips brushed her heel before his teeth dug in lightly. The little nip caused her to twitch in surprise, runners of heat going through her, a bloom of intimate moisture between her thighs. A nibble at her toes, a ticklish kiss, and then Jason began to wrap her ankle. His hands were gentle and clever, bending her leg until her heel nearly touched her bottom, winding the thin, soft rope in a spiral toward her knee.

Justine opened her heavy-lidded eyes to watch Jason’s dark silhouetted form. He knew what he was doing. Every tug of the cord tightened the urgency inside, hunger and confusion knotting exquisitely until she writhed from the inner pressure. A large, warm hand came to rest on her stomach.

Jason was looming over her, hooking a muscular arm around her bent knee. “Beautiful,” she heard him say softly. “The patterns on your body. Red cord and ivory skin. Like an image from a shunga print.” He kissed the inside of her knee. “If I had a soul, I’d have sold it for a chance to see you like this.”

How peculiar it was that she could feel na**d and secure all at once, all her protections gone. She was nothing but a bundle of bare flesh tied in red cord, her nerves charged with need. Jason worked carefully, purposefully, tying and threading rope to shape her body as he wanted. Her knees were drawn upward and secured so that she was held defenseless and exposed. She was throbbing everywhere, her sex full, the air wafting coolly against a slick of moisture.

Jason drew his hands over her legs, tracing the pattern of the cord. The air was filled with the mingled rhythms of their breathing. Even with her eyes closed, Justine could feel the intensity of Jason’s concentration on her. It gave her a disembodied feeling, being held and stroked and restrained, no choice except to submit.

Jason reached down to the ropes on either side of her groin and readjusted them, gently stretching each cord between the outer folds of her sex so that she was spread open. She began to tremble and strain, her insides pulsing and closing on emptiness.

Another whisper. “More?”

“Yes,” she said on a sob of breath.

Seconds passed while she writhed in the restraints, her bound wrists flexing, her toes curling. His hands gripped her bottom, forcing her to hold still. His mouth descended, covering her with slippery heat and sinuous flicking. She gasped, struggling against the ropes. Slowly his thumb worked inside her, rubbing deep circles while her muscles clutched helplessly at the new invasion. Her spine turned molten, and she dissolved in the heat, coming so hard she couldn’t draw breath to scream.

His thumb withdrew, his mouth playing on her, easing her into softness. Wordless minutes passed, while he cradled her trussed body as if she were a vessel he drank from. The lamplight slid over the dark head between her thighs, the layers of his hair touched with gold. She whimpered in surprise as the need built again, her swollen flesh tightening and twitching.

She felt the caress of his breath as he spoke hoarsely. “Use the safe word, Justine, or I’m going to take you while you’re tied. Do you understand, honey? Tell me to stop before it’s too late.”

“Don’t stop,” she managed to say, the words sweet and raw in her throat.

He pressed a rough kiss at the entrance of her body and stood to undress. His body was sleek and powerful, shadows cutting across his golden skin like tiger stripes. Standing at the edge of the bed, he gripped the harness of ropes and pulled Justine to him. He was astonishingly strong, lifting her without effort. She was helpless to move or participate, her body so neatly restrained that he could manipulate her like a toy.

Reaching down, Jason positioned himself and entered her in a wet, skewering thrust. His mouth came to hers, absorbing her pleasured groans. He continued to kiss her as he gripped the ropes, using them to lift and rock her against him. It was like riding on waves, a steady undulation while the cords held her open, exposing her sensitive flesh to each lubricious plunge. His mouth covered hers, his tongue filling her, while his hands gripped the ropes to make her ride every hard thrust. She bounced helplessly, weightless, sightless, washed in the heat of a cl**ax so prolonged that it had no definite beginning or end.

She had never surrendered herself so fully, had never imagined it possible, and yet it was what she had always craved, to be sublimated in pure feeling. To hear her name in Jason’s voice, his body shuddering against hers, the thick pulse of him buried within her. To feel his arms go around her, his face nuzzling hard into her neck.

When the final tremors dissipated, Jason eased her back and worked at the knots, untying them slowly, smoothly, pausing only to caress a private curve, a damp hollow. Each length of red hemp was deftly coiled and set aside. Dazed and dreamy, Justine lay in a passive sprawl while he rubbed and kissed the faint cord marks on her body. Her limbs were heavy, her heartbeat unhurried. Every nerve was alert to the pleasure of Jason’s hands on her, the intimate energy that flowed back and forth between them.

“What’s a shunga print?” she asked eventually, her voice blurred as if she’d just come out of a deep sleep.

“Ancient erotic art.” Jason wrapped a blanket around her and held her against his chest. “Hand-painted images showing couples in sexual positions.” His hand played gently in her hair. “To make it as stimulating as possible, the men are usually shown with exaggerated genitalia.”