Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(56)

She stiffened and then pushed back into him, rubbing against him like a cat.

He pressed tighter, bringing a hand in front to hold her pelvis still. “I could open my trousers right now and have my way with you, and there is nothing you could do.”

Her body grew still. He could feel the full awareness of her situation seep into her.

“And even if you screamed, then what?” he asked quietly. “What would happen if we were discovered like this?”

Still she did not move.

“You seem no more eager for a forced marriage than I, and so you are my prisoner, helpless to my desires.”

He stepped away, placing a hand on each of her shoulders and turning her to face him. It was so easy to become caught up in want, but it did not matter. “I give you one last chance to escape. No? Then step between the columns and let us find the moment again.”

Her head bent slightly, her neck long and delicate, she moved into the sun. It lit her hair like a cloud of fire about her, her pale skin glowing warm and lovely.

He swallowed as he focused on the bonds that held her, on her breasts pushed up and out, begging for his touch, for his glorious punishment.

Control. He needed control.

He took his seat on the cold marble bench again, spreading his thighs wide. Seeing Angela tied in his ropes, her blue eyes dark, her lips parted, a flush rising up her chest and face, had him ready to burst. The strength of his response was far greater than he had ever experienced.

Angela shook slightly as the wind picked up, her nipples bobbing. His mouth went dry. He splayed his thighs further, his feet moving forward to rest on either side of the tarp he had placed on the floor.

“Walk toward me slowly,” he commanded, keeping his whole focus on her.

She took one step and then another, her hips swaying. She stumbled slightly and caught herself, not used to having her arms held so tight behind her.

“I do wish you could see yourself. If you looked like an offering before—well, now you truly are.”

Her eyes lifted to him and then dropped again.

The sun was lower in the sky now and even as she moved forward it followed her, caressing her creamy skin.

When her toes touched the edge of the tarp, he held up a hand for her to stop. Her body halted, her shoulders pulling back, her breasts lifting. He had tied the ropes tight, and each breath she took pressed against them, causing them to swell further.

He reached out a finger and touched the tip of one rosy nipple. She started, and he could see the sensation race through her. He drew his nail across the tender tip, and her whole body tensed. He moved to the other breast, repeating the process.

Her eyes widened, and despite their earlier words he could see the moment that she first understood how helpless she was. He could do what he wished to those tempting breasts and there would be no recourse.

He plucked at her nipple, pulling hard and then releasing.

Her breath sucked in and then out.

He let his other hand trail down her belly, stopping to pluck at her nest of curls.

“Have you been touching yourself as I suggested?”

Her eyes jumped up to his and then hurried down again. Embarrassment showed in the nervous uptilt of her lips. A very slight nod.

“Do you know what I dream of when I stroke myself?” He stroked her breasts one more time and then leaned back, bringing one hand to his lap. He pressed down, outlining his length.

Her eyes moved from her feet to his hand.

“I dream of how you look right now. I dream of having you before me, ready and wet. I dream of knowing that I can do what I want. I dream of looking into your eyes and seeing your need. I dream of you begging me, pleading with me to give you your release. And I dream of your lips, your mouth.”

“My mouth?” The words slipped from her lips. Her gaze traveled up to his and then dropped to his sex, which pressed tight against the front of his breeches.

He reached to the side, unbuttoning one side of his flap and then the other. “Yes, your mouth.”

Her eyes stayed focused downward. He folded back the material of his trousers, watching her eyes follow his every movement. Her lips parted, drawing his complete attention. “Kneel now, on the tarp.”

She began to lower herself but wobbled slightly. He reached out and with great care helped her down.

And wasn’t that the image he’d dreamed of all these last nights, his angel on her knees, her hands and breasts bound, her lips parted and damp.

Wrapping his fingers about his length, he drew himself out.

Her lips opened farther.

He could feel the soft flow of her breath upon him. A single drop of cum seeped at the head of his prick. “Do you know what I want you to do?”

Her tongue flicked out. “No.” It came out a sigh.

“Can you guess?”

Her eyes darted up and then back to his cock. Another lick. “No.”

“I think you can.”

—

Could he mean what she thought? Angela gazed down at his penis and considered, her eyes lingering on its powerful length, on the deep color, on that drop of moisture marking the tip. Her mouth watered. He was beautiful, beautiful and strong—so strong.

She leaned forward, trying not to overbalance. The strain of having her arms behind her was beginning to tell, the tightness making her very aware of the arch of her back, the thrust of her chest—of her utter helplessness.