Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(82)

He closed his eyes—and was immediately lost in sensation as she swept the feather across him again, and then again. Blast, not seeing was worse than seeing. When the world was black all that was left was to feel. It was why he had blindfolded her.

He opened his eyes.

His fingers curled as he fought the urge to grab her hand and stop her. If she could withstand his teasing he could certainly withstand hers. And he would not beg, of that he was determined.

“I love watching how your skin moves, how you respond to each touch,” she said. “I never knew so much of the body was sensitive.”

Another brush of the feather, lower than the last.

“Yes, almost any part can be erotic if regarded as such.” He hoped his voice did not reveal the tight knots she was tying him in.

“I begin to wish I had let you play first.”

He wished he were playing with her now. He had known this would be torture, but not how far his limits would be stretched. He glanced back down at her.

“I do wonder what the feather feels like.” She met his gaze, and with slow, deliberate motions let the feather sweep across her own nipple. She bit her lip as the rosy peak played hide-and-seek between the barbs of the feather, the soft white down caressing her flesh. “I like it. I can pretend that it is your touch. It is very different than when I touch myself and feel with both my hands as well as my breast.” Her other hand rose and cupped the other breast, the fingers spreading to enfold the reddened nipple.



His hips rose at the sight. She didn’t even need to touch him and his body reacted as if her lips were upon him. The simple sight of her hand upon her breast was almost enough to send him over the edge. Sucking in a calming breath, he fought for his control. “Try the feather on my thighs. I think you will like the results.”

Her eyes widened, and her face lifted to him.

Did she understand the game they played, the subtle fight for mastery? He might be granting her the time to explore, but his rules still applied.

Bliss took the feather and ran it from knee to hip, her eyes dancing each time his muscles shook.

Yes, she did like that.

Moving the feather to the inner thigh, she bit down on her lip as his body responded in the expected manner. His nails bit into his palms as the tip of the feather brushed the base of his balls. His eyes would have rolled back in his skull if he had allowed them.

Moving her body over the sheets, Bliss moved to settle herself between his legs, her whole focus on his cock. Her eyes glittered and her lips parted. He could see the hunger within her and knew that no matter how great, it was only a fraction of that which rose in him. With studied concentration she took the firmer black feather and traced a line just at the base of his sack.

It took everything he had to keep up any pretense of relaxation. “Run the edge of the feather along my length. Yes, again.” His entire body was one tight muscle of want, the focus on that single fraction of skin where the feather ran. A drop of cum leaked from him and settled on the tip.



Bliss licked her lips, her focus tight, and leaned forward.

“No.” He said the word sharply, leaving no room for question. “I want your hands on me.”

She peered at him from under her lashes, questioning.

He was not used to explaining, but for Bliss he would. “It will be over too fast if your lips touch me. Even the thought of your hot, wet mouth has me ready to come in an instant.”

“And that is a problem?” Her voice rang with genuine curiosity.

“Yes, that is a problem.”

“But I want to see you come. I want to watch every second of it.”

He could grant her that. “Only if you do exactly as I say.”

—

Do exactly as he said? It always seemed to come back to that. Every time Bliss complied she could feel the pleasure that filled him—and therefore her—and yet he did not seem to object when she chose her own path. Well, perhaps he objected, but he enjoyed the fight. He was a contradiction, one she could not quite puzzle out.

Which led her to wonder…

“And what exactly would you like me to do, oh exalted master?” She tried to hide the laugh that lurked deep in her throat as she spoke the words.

“Why do you call me that?” His voice was suddenly hoarse, his body growing stiff beneath her touch.

“Master?”



“Yes.” He sounded more abrupt than she had ever heard him, even after he’d discovered her torn bodice.

“I thought it was cute.” Had he not heard the humor in her voice?

“Cute? You thought it was cute to call me master?”

She placed a hand on each of his thighs, letting the feathers fall to the bed. “Yes. I thought it was cute. Are we really going to have an argument because I made a joke? Surely you must realize that you are a rather bossy man.” She licked her lips and stared at him, daring him to comment.

“I am not sure that I’ve ever heard the word ‘bossy’ applied.”

She raised a brow, and then with slow deliberation let her tongue flick out, removing the drop of moisture from the tip of his cock.

The muscles in his chest flexed, his lips tightened, but he made no comment.

“What is it that you wished me to do? You know I am here only to serve,” she said, sweet and demur.