Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(54)
He moved his head to the other breast, and she cried with the deliciousness of it all. His fingers still worked the nipple of the first breast, pulling and teasing, extending it until it stretched. She felt so swollen, so bursting, another touch and it would happen. The knot between her legs grew ever tighter and she could only beg. “Please, Duldon. Please make it happen. I need it. I can’t bear it any longer. Please.” Her hips moved even further from the wall, pressing toward him.
He pulled his head back and continued to stare up at her. He smiled, slowly. “I told you this was punishment. Are you feeling punished yet?”
“Yes, please. Please. I need—I need you, Duldon.”
“I think it’s time you called me Stephan.”
She stared down at him, desperate, and yet not too blind to see how much meaning those words held.
“Stephan, please.”
“God, you make me want to give in to you, but not tonight, pet. Tomorrow at Madame Rouge’s I will make all your dreams come true, but for now you must squirm a little more.” And then, for the first time, he dropped his eyes to her breasts and stared at them directly. She saw—and felt—his intake of breath. “God, you are beautiful. I always knew you would be, but you are better than any dream, any fantasy.”
She dropped her own gaze and stared down at her breasts. She’d never seen them like this. Normally she just thought of them as there, a slight nuisance when she wanted to run or ride with great vigor, sore before her monthly, something that didn’t require much thought. She knew men liked them, had become aware at the Evanstons’ ball that she could use them to her advantage.
But this, this was different. They stood out pale above the darker silk of her gown, the yellow a deep gold in the flickering lantern light. Her corset pushed them up high, bringing an extreme fullness to them, making them look like they were begging to be touched and felt. And begging they were, the long nipples shiny and slick, swollen and red from the teasing. The pale globes lifting and falling with every breath, wanting, wanting, wanting.
She could look at herself and feel the want, know the look of it, the taste of it. Her lips were suddenly dry and she dampened them with her tongue.
How could he leave her like this? He’d called it punishment, but it felt as if she might explode if he left her like this.
“Please,” she begged.
“I know it’s hard, love. I truly do know.” He took her hand and pulled it forward, resting it on the front of his breeches. He was full and hard and throbbing. She could feel his cock’s need for escape, feel the force with which it thrust against the fabric. She eased her hand about its thickness, wondering at its size—and its strength. She’d seen several penises now, but she’d never placed her hand upon one, never felt the power within.
She gazed up at him, with wonder—and an edge of fright. That went in her? How was that even possible? She’d thought it would feel fleshier, less like a rod of iron. Her fingers squeezed. Her belly shivered. She squeezed again.
“You are killing me,” he growled. “But it will not change things. All I can promise is that tomorrow when you come to me at Ruby’s you will understand that the pain of deprivation can lead to much pleasure when it is finally released. I swear that it will all be worth it.”
“But what if I decide not to come to Madame Rouge’s? What if I decide to do something else?” She knew as well as he that she would be there, but could not resist the words.
“You’ll come. I do not think you will deprive us both.”
“Us both?” She squeezed him again.
“God, yes. I am discovering I am not a saint. And I think your education and your curiosity are ready to move forward a step.”
“Did you ever really think you might be a saint? I have to confess I never even considered that as a possibility.” With some reluctance she removed her hand from him and moved away slightly so that she could take in all of him. “Nope, not a saint. And how do you propose to satisfy my curiosity? Remember, I wish to go to my marriage a virgin.”
“I promise I will do nothing to hinder that wish. And that is why I consider that I may qualify for sainthood. Although I think you may be beginning to realize that there are plenty of things we can do that will leave us both quite satisfied.”
An image of Green and Black filled her mind—and Lord Banks and Julianna—and even the Binkshaws. They had engaged in several activities before and after the actual—the actual f*cking. Yes, there was plenty to explore.
Unfortunately this was not helping to soothe her aches; rather, her whole body focused on the area between her legs, on her swollen breasts, still exposed to the chill of the air. Could she wait until tomorrow? Would she survive so long?
“You must, however, remember that you will have further punishment tomorrow,” he said, closing the small space between them. “Do not think you have escaped so easily.”
Easily? She felt ready to die with need. And why did his words make her desires coil even tighter? The current punishment already ate at her, pushing at her limits of restraint. Why would she wish more? Why, when she could barely face the return to the dance floor feeling as she did, did the thought of further teasing and torture make her tingle and grow breathless?
“Oh, and one more thing. I promised you something a little more lasting, something to make you think of me all this night and tomorrow.” He bent again and his lips settled again about her nipple.