When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(100)
“You needn’t offer yourself. I would have taken what I wanted anyway, because you are mine to do with as I please.”
Fresh arousal spiked through her at his stark dominance. He reached behind her and unfastened her skirt, pushing it down her hips and thighs until she stepped out of it. She stood before him naked except for her heels and jewelry. When he gently released the loops on her nipples, she bit her lip to halt a cry at the quick, sharp pain resulting from the sudden release of pressure.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. He set aside her necklace and the nipple chain and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. The pain faded as quickly as it came. He ran his hands over her hips and sensitive sides. He gently caressed her sensitive nipples. She shivered uncontrollably beneath his touch and blatantly possessive stare.
“Your nipples are so large now, so pink. So beautiful,” he said, his fingers worshiping.
“Lucien,” she said, her desperation rising.
“I will not draw this out any further,” he said with sudden decisiveness. He led her over to his large bed. “Put your hands on the railing and bend over.” Excitement built in her when she took the position, her hands bracing her weight on the mahogany rail that ran between the two end posts, her heartbeat throbbing in the tips of her suspended breasts.
“Stay put,” he said.
She craned around and watched as Lucien walked into his dressing closet. When he came out a moment later, he wore nothing but his suit pants, his delineated muscles gleaming in the soft lamplight. She couldn’t help but notice how full his cock looked behind the fly of his trousers and riding along his left thigh. She yanked her gaze off the compelling sight, frowning in puzzlement at what she saw in his hands.
One of the items she recognized immediately: the black leather crop he’d used on her the night in the stables when he’d taken her virginity, the one he’d said was now hers . . . not hers to use, but to have used on her. A thrill went through her. A shiny wooden shoe-polish box was tucked under his arm. The third item had her completely puzzled, however. Hanging from his left hand was something made of incredibly supple black leather. Two straps hung loosely, swaying.
She was still staring at the leather item when he approached her and let the wooden shoe-polish box drop to the floor. He placed the crop on the bed.
“Lucien . . . what is that?” she asked through a tight throat, referring to the leather thing with straps.
She wasn’t expecting his small smile when he turned to her, or that familiar, devilish gleam in his eyes. He’d been so stern and tense all evening that his playfulness took her by surprise.
“It’s a leather corset, of sorts. Very strong. Very durable. I thought it would look extremely sexy, next to your white skin,” he said, holding up the corset. Elise gasped when she saw the two thin leather straps sewn to the back of the soft leather, one on each side of the zipper.
“Are those . . . ?” she muttered in amazement.
“Reins,” he said, a hint of mirth in his tone. “It’s your ad hoc saddle. I had it made for you. Inhale,” he murmured as he fit the corset around her ribs and zipped it in the back. She understood why he’d said to inhale. It fit very tightly. The leather stopped an inch or two below her nipples, plumping the flesh above it until it spilled over the edge. “It seems to fit,” he murmured, running his fingers over the fulsome flesh squeezed above the leather. A shudder of pleasure went through her at his touch. “How does it feel?”
“Extremely tight,” Elise blurted, still stunned by what was occurring. She didn’t know whether to be irritated or pleased by his gift. An ad hoc saddle?
He straightened, regarding her and undoubtedly noticing her slight pique. “If you recall, you once told me in no uncertain terms that no one rode you.”
“And you thought to prove me wrong?” she exclaimed heatedly.
“I bought this to make it clear to you that there is one person on this planet whom you will submit to,” he growled softly, running his hand over her ass. “And yes, there is one man you will allow to ride you. Who is that?”
For a moment, she just stared back at him, her heart beginning to pound in her ears.
“You,” she finally admitted softly.
Her gaze remained glued to the small, god-awful-sexy smile that shaped his lips. He walked over to the bedside chest and extricated another bottle of lubricant . . . and the last plug in the box.
The largest one.
Her muscles tightened instinctually around the plug already inserted. He set down the lubricant and the plug on the tabletop. She watched in avid lust as he methodically stripped off the rest of his clothes. Her mouth went dry at the profile vision of his muscular ass, his powerful thighs, and his erect penis, the heavy weight of it making it fall at a horizontal, slightly downward angle.
Her sexual hunger mounted exponentially.
He walked toward her, the bottle of lubricant and the last plug in his hand.
“You’re going to . . . f*ck me in the ass, aren’t you?” she asked, flushing with embarrassment, even though it had seemed obvious to her all night that was precisely what he was preparing her for.
“Yes,” he said, flipping open the cap on the bottle of lubricant. “And you will submit to it. But first, I will ride your hot little *.”
A whimper of pure arousal leaked past her lips. The paradox of her feelings created an untenable friction. She didn’t want to be ridden. And yet . . . she did want to be ridden. By him. She wanted the rebellious, empty, hot-blooded wild child she’d been her whole life to find her limit. Held in check.