Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(77)

A low chuckle from behind, the puff of air. “Don’t worry, kitten, some things are not for today.”

Not for today? Did that mean sometime? No, he could not mean that. Could he?

The fingers moved lower, slick oil blending with her own moisture. Would he lick her again? The memory of how his tongue had felt upon her folds, upon that spot, filled her. She felt more moisture seep from her body as he continued to press deeply into sensitized skin. She could feel every blow that he’d placed upon her ass in a wave of fiery delight. There was definitely still pain, but pain such as she’d never felt, each touch a direct connection to her core. She squirmed, her hips lifting and falling beneath his touch. She fought the movement, but could not. Her body was not her own to control. He was killing her. She wanted to be touched, wanted to be filled, wanted him in her.

No. She could not want that. Did not want that. Only…

No.

“Please…” The word snuck from her lips even as she fought for clarity, for reason. She must remember what could and could not happen this night. Only with his every touch, his every stroke reason left her. Why? What could it hurt? Who would ever know? She would know. Did she care? She needed him, needed him so badly. “Please.” Again the plea formed and escaped.

There was only stillness above her, stillness and silence.

“I need you.” Her words were soft, but there was no mistaking their plea.

His hands moved once in a slow circle, but still there were no words.



More words rose to her lips, but she held them back, her mind a cloud of sensation. Had she displeased him by speaking? If only she could see his face, read his features. The small circles of his hands grew greater, harder, slipping down between her legs, but still not reaching where she needed them to.

Her body squirmed again beneath him, the weight of his thighs holding her down, preventing her from moving too much. Her legs could not open farther, could not grant him greater access.

Pushing back, hard, her body tried to press against him, to show him all that she desired.

He held firm, his fingers biting into her flesh as he refused her now-silent plea.

And then, before her body could do more, she found herself lifted and turned so that she lay settled upon her back. Her mind filled briefly with the strength required to lift her so easily, to turn her with such little effort, but then thought slipped away as she felt his weight shift, his muscular thighs settling about her, still imprisoning her.

“Lift your arms up toward the headboard, stretch yourself as far as you can go.” His voice was firm, if soft, the whisper of it in the air caressing her.

Before thought or consideration could enter into play she found herself stretching her arms, reaching, the tiniest piece of one finger brushing the wood of the headboard.

“Very good, now hold yourself steady. A proper offering.”

An offering? Did she wish to be an offering? She wanted to be anything that he wished, if only he would touch her more. Touch her down between her legs where she so desperately needed his stroke.



His fingers ran down the length of her thighs, and then swept up—almost…But, not.

“Please,” she whispered, unable to help herself.

“I did ask for silence, but it is hard to resist such a plea.” His hands moved higher, playing with her curls, pulling softly and separating her. “What exactly is it you want?”

What did she want? She wanted it all. “I want you, Stephan.”

His finger moved lower, circling the spot that so needed to be touched. Her body wiggled and squirmed, trying to direct him where it needed him. He teased a moment more and then brushed right where she needed. Her body lifted from the bed with that one small movement, and a bolt of electricity surged through her body.

“Is that what you want?” He stroked again. Another bolt.

“Yes, and more. More. I want everything.”

His hand stopped moving. His legs stiffened about her. “You want everything? Do you mean that, Bliss?”





Chapter Twenty-one


As he spoke her name Duldon remembered his promises, the ones he’d made to himself and to her. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, pictured sliding between her thighs, plunging into her, granting them both the release they so desired.

“No,” he said.

“No?” Her voice quavered.

“No. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Unless you are ready to consider this your wedding night with the ceremony to come later.”

Her breast lifted as air filled her lungs. Small teeth nibbled on a lower lip. Her hips lifted again, straining toward him.

It would be unfair to take her now, even if she were willing to promise him eternity. This was not the moment for such promises. The promises of a lifetime should be made when the mind ruled, not the body. But if she gave him that promise, even under these circumstances, he would take it and hold her to it. He let his fingers trail over her again, teasing, seeking, drawing her further down the path he wished to travel.

“No,” she gasped, her head rolling against the pillows. “If anything I am more determined at this moment. You are not the man for me. My emotions are too involved with you and I could imagine myself loving you. I could not survive a lifetime with you.”

Because she might love him? He fought for sense, for understanding, tried to think with his head and not his body. How could that be wrong? His gut clenched. Even in the midst of passion, he felt concern. Was there a way to win this battle? Even if she gave in to him and said yes that would mean she thought she could never love him. And he was very much afraid he was coming to need her love. “Then you will have to be content with what I am willing to give you.”