Taking It All (Surrender Trilogy #3)(27)

She was also secretly, and not so secretly, smug and delighted that Tate had admitted he’d never had a woman—a submissive—who was so perfectly suited for him. They were just meant to be, as corny as it sounded to say it aloud. But nothing about her relationship and ensuing marriage caused her any embarrassment. She was proud of who and what she was with him. He’d never given her any reason to feel shame for her desires and she loved him deeply for that. For always praising her boldness when it came to embracing her needs and desires.

“Baby, you’re killing me,” he groaned. “And I want to give you everything you want tonight. It will be my honor—and privilege—to give you whatever you need from me. My love. My control. Whatever makes you feel safe and cherished.”

The words coming from him hit the very heart of her. A part of her soul that had been long denied. Emotion clogged her throat, making it impossible to breathe around the growing knot. Tears burned her eyelids but she furiously blinked them back, determined not to give him any misapprehension about her willingness—and desire—to see the night through in absolute decadence and splendor.

“I do feel safe and cherished with you, Tate. Please don’t hold back with me. I’m not fragile. I won’t break. I need you. I need us. Like we were. I need things to go back to normal. I want your control back, that feeling of absolute safety and security I feel when I’m with you.”

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, long and lingering this time, his mouth utterly possessive. As though they’d never drifted apart and were taking up right where they left off before he became so distant to her.

He reached down and took both her hands in his, gently pulling her to stand before him.

“Then go to the bed. Belly down, arms stretched toward the headboard and feet on the floor at the end. Get as comfortable as possible while I get the rope to bind you.”

Another shiver, almost violent in its intensity, quaked through her body, leaving desperate need in its wake. She stumbled precariously, like she was drunk on alcohol, as she weaved her way toward the bed.

Tate was with her the entire way, helping to position her to his liking on the bed. She eased down onto her belly, resting her cheek against the soft mattress. She planted both feet firmly on the floor, her toes curling into the sheepskin rug at the foot of the bed. Then he left her, his absence a keenly felt void as she waited for him to return with the bonds that would render her helpless and at his absolute command.

She didn’t have long to wait. It was as if he were as impatient as she was to reclaim this part of their relationship. She closed her eyes, relaxing under his patient touch.

He pulled one arm up first, ensuring she was comfortable with gentle questions to gauge her reaction. First he looped the rope around her left wrist, testing the strength of the knot before securing it to the headboard, stretching her arm high above her head in the process. Then he repeated the motions with her right arm until she was spread wide on the bed, arms outstretched and reaching high toward the head of the bed.

She was completely vulnerable, unable to move except to rise up on tiptoe, flexing the arches of her feet and then back again. She tested the strength of the bonds, a quiver of delight tumbling around her belly when the ropes held fast and she was unable to move but the barest of inches.

“You are so absolutely beautiful,” he said in a reverent, awe-filled voice. “More beautiful to me than even five years ago when we first married. I know I’ve failed miserably in making sure you know how beautiful—and important, all-important to me—but with every passing day, you grow even more gorgeous to me. There’ll never be another woman for me, Chess. No one who owns every part of my heart and soul like you do.”

If he didn’t stop, she’d lose the battle to keep her tears at bay. The words he’d spoken to her, obviously from the very heart of him, ever since their crisis on their anniversary night, were heartfelt. An unobscured window to his very soul.

She bit into her lip and closed her eyes, not wanting to see what he would do next. Instead she reached out with her heightened senses and anticipated his next move. Would he torment her endlessly, drawing out her pleasure to its maximum peak? Or would he move in, rough and dominant, instantly possessing her body and rebuilding the faltering connection between them?

So much was at stake here. This night. It wasn’t merely kinky sex meant to satisfy their more acute sexual tastes. This was truly a turning point in their marriage, whether he reestablished his control or they shifted to a different kind of relationship entirely.

She flinched when he pressed a kiss to the small of her back and nibbled his way over the plumpness of both cheeks and then ran his tongue up the cleft of her ass until she was trembling with desperate need.

Would he f**k her ass? Or would he slide into her pu**y, hard and pulsing? Perhaps he’d first thrust into her pu**y and save her ass for last. Anal sex was something she didn’t merely endure. It was something she found extremely erotic and she embraced that dark need. She was completely unashamed of her desires and had never felt any inhibitions about letting Tate know what turned her on. Every kink they indulged in, she was a full and active participant. Just because he was the Dominant didn’t mean her role in their lovemaking was passive. Far from it.

His mouth left her and his fingertips replaced his lips, tracing delicate lines down and then around her anal opening, teasing her mercilessly until she was already precariously close to begging. Not for him to stop. But to please give her more. To end her desperate journey to sexual fulfillment.