Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(65)

Her thighs clenched, her hips rose, and she watched it all.

She looked up at herself, at him, and wondered at the beauty.

And then thought was once again gone and there was only experience. His teeth scraped. She spasmed. His fingers pinched. Waves of passion filled her.

And then he nipped, hard and fast. It was too much. The wall broke, the dam flooded.

It came upon her, ripped through her. Her whole body rose from the bed, feet pressing tight into thick mattress. Her thighs clenched about him, even as he held her open. God. Gods. The world opened about her. Color. Light. Sensation. All was one. All was one giant explosion of feeling and being—just being.

And through it all she saw herself, saw him, saw them. Together. Always together.

“Stephan. Stephan.” The word echoed about the room.

Another spasm. Another whirl of endless color.

Another call of his name.

A deep breath.

A soft sigh.

Her body relaxed and fell back into the bed, fell back against the pillows.

Peace.

His tongue stroked one more time. She clenched again, more softly this time.

Peace and quiet. Her mind was still. All was contentment.

The world was good.



With half-closed eyes, she watched him pull back, watched him stretch to standing, watched the flow of muscles even through his shirt.

He was hers and she could only rejoice.

He took a few steps and reached for a water pitcher she had not noticed before, splashing his face and then his chest as he pulled off his shirt. And those muscles were real, and far more than she had ever imagined. The candlelight played across a rippled abdomen and as he turned outlined his hard shoulders. A light coating of golden hair coated his chest. He was beautiful. She’d never thought such a thing before, but that made it no less true.

And then he turned back to her, his hands at the fastenings of his trousers.

Even in her relaxed state she swallowed, hard, as his fingers flicked the buttons and the trousers fell to his feet—and she saw everything she had ever wanted.





Chapter Seventeen


She was more than he had ever wanted. Her beauty. Her passion. Her joy.

When he’d felt her come apart beneath him, felt her wonder, he’d almost lost it himself. Now he could contain himself no more. It was all he could do not to come as an untried lad simply from looking at the beauty that was Bliss. He dropped his trousers with undo haste, glad that he was not wearing boots this night. It was far easier to slip from his shoes and push his stockings down, stepping from the pile of clothing and toward his princess.

He stood for a moment and simply stared. Her breathing was slowing and the flush was slowly fading from her cheeks. He could see the edge of sleep moving into her eyes, even as she gazed at him in wonder. Her eyes centered on his cock and for a moment widened. He felt himself grow and swell, against all possibility, at that gaze.

He watched her throat gather and swallow as she stared.

His hand dropped to his sex and his fingers wrapped around it. He allowed himself one small stroke as he let his eyes drift lower on her body. Her thighs still lay spread, her pink folds glistening with spent desire, her every secret open to him. He longed to bury himself there, to lift her knees about his shoulders and thrust in, to feel her slick heat close about him.

Another stroke.

She’d burn about his prick as she had about his face, her heat flaming even as it soothed.



He pressed tight at the base, just above his sack.

He’d held off this long; he could hold off a few seconds longer. Taking a step forward, he kept his gaze on her. Her eyes were looking less sleepy by the moment. He stroked himself again, long and slow. Her gaze followed his every movement.

She rolled onto her side and continued to stare. Not a word was said, but he could feel her interest and consideration, her desire.

Another stroke. And then another.

This was killing him, but there was no way…he would rather die.

A small tongue darted out, licking swollen lips.

His Bliss might have found satisfaction, but she was still eager for more—and he would not disappoint her.

Coming to the bed, he stood for a moment a few feet from her face and let her watch his slow measured movements. His body strummed with the need to speed things along, to increase the pace, the friction, but he held back, the look in her eyes his reward.

“May I feel?” Her question was soft and breathy. The only soft thing in the whole room.

Reaching out he took her hand and placed it upon his shaft, continuing to hold it. Carefully he helped her set the rhythm, let her feel the pace that he desired. Gritting his teeth, he fought the need to come. Her touch was beyond anything he had ever imagined, warm and soft, but filled with that same life-giving joy that encompassed all that she did.

Her eyes were focused and intense, her lower lip once again being chewed. God, the thoughts he had about that lower lip. Her gaze darted from his hand up to his face and back. He could feel her desire to do this just right.



“There is no way you could make a mistake,” he said, low and husky. “All I need is your hand upon me and I am happy.”

“But surely there is better and even better? I know when you touch me it feels like heaven, and then you shift and it is beyond heaven. I want to put you into that place.”