Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(78)

“But…”

“There is no ‘but.’ “With great consideration he ran his finger over her clit, watching as the hood pulled down revealing her swollen need to him. He stroked and teased, pressed and played. Her body began to thrash upon the bed, soft but urgent cries leaving her lips. And still he took her higher, allowing her no respite.

“Stephan, please…” If he thought she’d pleaded before, there was no mistaking the overwhelming need that filled her voice now.

He showed no mercy now, driving her onward, feeling as her body coiled about him, as her thighs pressed against his.

Her hands lowered, reaching for him, trying to move him as she desired. He grabbed them and moved them back to the headboard. “Keep them there. Do as I say or I will leave you to yourself. You are mine. You can deny me in the future, but now, now you are mine.”

Her hands strained, and then became still, although tension still filled her. He grabbed her legs and pushed them up, moved them about his hips, and spread them wide.

He should take her now, teach her what possession really meant, but again he held back, bound by his promise and his dreams of the future. She would admit that she was his first, his forever. They would end this game between them.

Quivering beneath him, Bliss lay still, every muscle twitching, letting him know how much the effort cost her.



Holding her legs spread, he ran his thumbs up her inner thighs, reveling in the smooth soft skin, in the scent of musk and woman that rose up to him. He inhaled deeply, letting the smell fill him, locking it into his memory. Whatever came next, he would have this moment, have every second of it.

His thumbs moved upward, caressing the indent where leg met torso. The skin here was so fine he feared to scratch it with the rough skin of his hands. Her hips rolled before him. She had no such worries.

Leaning forward he blew, enjoying the light movement of her curls. He could have played like this for hours, but the soft mews sneaking from her lips indicated she was not so patient. He slid his thumbs up farther, pressing her open, spreading her before him, pink and slick—and waiting. Her need ate at him, called to him, but he would stay strong, leave his mark upon her soul as well as her body.

Again the need to bury himself within her suffused him, but again he held back. His cock was straining and eager, feeling as if the skin would burst upon it. It knew no reason, understood not patience, not promise. It knew only what it wanted, what he wanted. And what it wanted was there, right there.

God, he really would qualify for sainthood when this was over.

With one index finger he traced her entrance, watching as moisture seeped from her, small shudders ran the length of her legs. He blew again, more targeted. Her whole body spasmed.

Keeping his finger there, slowly circling, he used his other hand to spread her farther. Her clit peeked out, pink and swollen—and irresistible.



He had tasted her only moments before, but now his mouth watered with his own need. Forming his tongue into a hard point, he flicked it over her greedy flesh. Her legs tightened, closing about his head, but he held them wide. He flicked, he blew, he sucked and laved, loving every tiny response of her body. He could feel when she grew tight and held himself back, waiting until her breath returned. And always he took her one step further, one step closer—only to hold her back from that final moment.

Her head thrashed upon the pillows as soft, unknowing cries escaped her lips.

She was close, so close.

And it would be so easy, so easy to rise over her, to fill her, to bring them both to heaven together. He was going to marry her, what did it matter?

No.

He bent his head, sucked her deep into his mouth, his tongue working against sensitive tissue. With his lower hand he circled her entrance once more, and then let the tip slip in, pressing against velvet flesh, filling her just enough.

He waited, felt her tense about him.

And gave it to her, pushed and pressed and nipped, his teeth moving upon her, until her body lifted from the bed, his name echoing about the room.

He pushed her there again, and yet one more time. Her cries grew hoarse and harsh, her body limp before him.



And then he kissed her, softly, sweetly, once at the top of each thigh and once upon the soft curve of her belly.

And then, himself still hard and unsatisfied, he moved up the bed until he could pull her into his arms, lay her head upon his chest and let peace fill them for the briefest of moments.

He felt her lashes flutter against his breast, felt her body curl into his warmth.

This was the time. He knew it and yet he resisted, wanting one more moment of this quiet perfection.

But no, a better moment would not come. “Tell me, Bliss,” he whispered against her damp locks, “Tell me, why do you not want love? Why do you fear it, fear me so greatly?”

She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to think. Bliss heard Stephan’s words and wished them away. Her body had never ached with such satisfaction.

Tell me, why do you not want love? Why do you fear it, fear me so greatly? The words filled her brain and settled.

She had no defense in this moment. He had wiped them all away. She didn’t want to answer, did not want to seek the reasons.

“Love doesn’t last.” There, that was simple and did not require much thought. She turned her face into his chest, felt the beat of his heart against her cheek. “It goes away.”