Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(27)

“Almost. Sometimes. She’s angled a little away, but when she shifts I can see a deeper pink and…”

“Is she wet and glistening? Does she look eager for a man’s mouth and cock?” His voice wrapped about her, forcing her to imagine herself in Mrs. Binkshaw’s position.

Bliss began to pant. “Yes. When he presses his fingers into her flesh it separates some and I can see it shine, and down her thighs. They glisten and look damp.”

“And what of you? Are you damp and glistening? Are you longing to be touched, caressed, pleasured?” The backs of his fingers brushed the sides of her breasts, but Bliss could swear she felt the faintest of strokes upon her inner thighs.





Chapter Seven


Bliss swallowed, unsure how to take this sudden turn from watching to thinking about her own body, to thinking about her body and Duldon, to thinking about the weight of him pressed against her, the warmth of his thighs, the hardness of the body that surrounded her, the stroke of his fingers reaching for places that had never been touched. “I—I—I don’t know.”

“Do you really not? I can feel your legs pressed together. Is that to stop the ache between them—or to increase it?”

One of his hands left her shoulder and trailed down her back. Could he feel how she trembled at his touch? How she longed to flee and yet longed even more to press herself tight against him?

“Are you embarrassed by my questions?” he asked as his fingers settled upon her waist and squeezed lightly.

“Of course not.” She could only be glad he could not see her blush.

He chuckled, vibrations tickled her ear. “Then let us step back a bit in time. Tell me what he is doing now. Is he still touching her ass?”

“Yes, but his fingers move deeper and lower with each caress. One of his hands has sunk between her legs and is moving in a place I cannot see. I am not quite sure what he is doing.”

“I can imagine.”

“He is spreading her wider and wider. He just shoved her knees a bit apart. I think he will…f*ck her in a moment, just as Mr. Banks did in the library. Although he does still have his breeches on. He is spreading her moisture across her. And she likes it. Her hips are beginning to buck almost like a horse. She keeps pressing back and he shoves her forward again. I think she wants more and he is holding back.”



“Is she quivering with need as he deprives her? Does she want more and more and yet the more he refrains the more she wants? A greedy thing, is she?”

Bliss would never have thought of it that way, but said, “Yes, that is exactly it. She wants more.” Just as Bliss did.

Duldon’s fingers wrapped tighter about her waist, whether to pull her to him or hold her tight she could not be sure. It was hard not to move her hips as Mrs. Binkshaw did. Her own need was growing and with every touch she watched she felt a phantom one upon her own flesh, the lightest brush or the firmest grasp, it mattered not. And then…

“My God,” the words came on a single great exhale.

“What?”

“He struck her. He pulled back his hand and hit her flat upon her behind.” Her surprise was so great that the more familiar word slipped from her lips. “And he did it again.”

Duldon tightened against her; she could feel every muscle in him harden and grow strong.

“And again. Should we get help? God, I don’t know what to do.” And she didn’t. The one thing she did know was that she could not look away. Her eyes remained fastened on the rapidly reddening skin of Mrs. Binkshaw’s behind. Each blow that fell caused Mrs. Binkshaw to rise up more, to move into it—to—to seek it? Was she really moving toward the blow? Bliss’s eyes moved to Mrs. Binkshaw’s face. The eyes were large now, but not with fright. It was impossible to escape the emotion that moved within them, to miss the heat high in her cheeks, the swollen red lips. “She likes it. I don’t understand. She likes it. How can someone like being spanked? I never liked being spanked, although to be fair it only happened once.”



“Who spanked you?” Duldon’s voice was low.

“Swanston.”

“I can see how that would not be enjoyable.”

Bliss kept staring ahead, her mind locked on what was happening before her. “Her skin has gotten so red and tender looking. And yet she seems to want more. She’s spreading her legs farther, directing him to her most tender spot. She doesn’t want him to slap her there, does she? Oh, she does. And he’s doing it.” It was getting hard to draw breath. Tiny darts of sensation ran through her and Bliss felt the backs of her thighs tingle with each blow she watched; her—her cunny quivered. What would it be like to feel so ready and needy? To feel a man’s powerful hand pressing one to his will? To desire nothing but…

She almost jumped when Duldon’s other hand left her shoulder and drifted down her back, past her waist to her behind. She stood still, frozen, suddenly completely distracted from what was happening before her. Should she say something? Pull away? Although there was almost no place to go in the narrow hallway that held the peepholes.

Drawing a deep breath in, she did her best to ignore the hand. Perhaps he didn’t realize it was there? Maybe it had just slid down and he wasn’t thinking about it and where it had landed. Perhaps he didn’t realize where it was? No, that was nonsense. Duldon had already demonstrated this night that there might be more to him than she had thought. He knew exactly what it was doing—and what it was doing to her.