Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(87)

His mouth came down on the nipple again. Her head fell back. A lightning bolt shot through her.

He was going to kill her.

She’d never thought it possible to die from pleasure, but now she wondered.

His lips trailed down her breast, his hands taking their place, continuing to tease the aching nipples. His tongue moved from wax dot to wax dot, hitting every sensitive spot as he trailed down her belly. The wax peeled easily from her oil-slicked skin. He stopped when he came to her navel, his tongue circling, leaving a slick path. Then he pulled back, their eyes met—and he raised the candleholder.

No.

Yes.

No.

Please. Please. Yes.

Bliss braced herself for the heat, but even so the bite of heat caught her. She pulled as much air as she could into her lungs and released it in short, quick puffs.

She felt his smile against her belly, his mouth instantly soothing away the burn.

And then he moved lower, licking, laving, nipping. He pressed her thighs even wider, his mouth settling.

She was thrashing now, fighting the bounds that held her.

She couldn’t take it. She truly could not.

Heat. Heaven. Too Much. God, it was too much.

She was breaking apart. It would never be possible to get all the pieces back together again.



“Please.” It was the first word she had said since he placed the bounds about her.

“Soon,” he replied, his tongue flicking her hard.

Her bonds held tight as she struggled. She needed to be free, needed to escape, needed to press herself to him, needed, needed, needed.

She was all about need.

She was need.

And only need.

His teeth grazed her and she did not care. She wanted more.

His thumbs pressed her open, his tongue moving down to her entrance, circling, playing, pressing deep.

Yes. Yes.

No. Go back.

God, yes.

If only he would…

And then he pulled back and stared down into her eyes. His fingers still played, and stroked and touched, pushing back the skin that covered that magic spot. He pinched slightly.

A small spasm shook her.

A beginning, but not enough, never enough.

He pinched tighter.

She felt it begin, but then fade as his fingers pulled back.

It was hard to breathe, her whole body focused on those scant inches of skin.

He pushed the skin farther back with one hand, holding her spread apart and still.



His mouth. She needed his mouth.

Now. Please. Please. Now.

His tongue ran across his lips. He was going to…He was…She saw the candle. All she could do was murmur, “please,” not even sure what she was asking for.

The first drop of wax hit her, and despite her bonds, her whole body rose on the bed—and shattered and broke.

Pain. Pleasure. Burn. Climax.

There was no beginning, no end.

A thousand stars of light. A thousand flickering flames.

Nothing had ever felt so good, hurt so bad—and yet the pleasure would have been less without the pain.

Another drop landed, and she shattered again.

Her tender hold on thought was lost as her whole being shook and tensed with ecstasy. Again. And then again. His mouth was on her again, soothing and stimulating all at once. Her body rose and fell, her mind awash in a sea of pleasure and glory.

And then it was over.

Her body collapsed upon the bed.

Her eyes slipped shut, movement too much, thought too much.

It was all she could do to simply be.

One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths.

Peace as she had never known it.

Her lungs still worked. Her toes still twitched. It seemed a miracle.

She peeled open her eyes, an effort that took her every ounce of will, and found him kneeling above her. His hands stroked his well-oiled cock, the strokes strong and sure. He was close. She could see it in the strain of his face, the tendons in his neck standing out.



Her eyes met his and she saw it happen, saw the pleasure take him, heard her name cry from his lips. The hot spurt hit her belly, glistening on the already shiny flesh.

Again and again, he pumped, the fluid coating her.

She had never seen anything so frighteningly beautiful.

And then he too was done. He untied her quickly, using the scarves to clean them both. With great care he repositioned her so that all was comfort before lying down beside her on the bed, cradling her against him.

She wanted to melt into him. She might never move again.

Her body was limp. Her mind was limp, her whole being shattered and vulnerable.

Her eyes began to drift closed again.

“So tell me, Bliss,” his voice called her from the coming slumber, “why won’t you marry me? What do you hold against me deep in your heart?”

—

What do you hold against me deep in your heart? He knew it was manipulative to ask her now, but it was the only way. They could not proceed if she would not be honest with him.

Her sleepy eyes lifted. “You didn’t kiss me or dance with me, and then…You broke your promise to me.” Her voice began to trail off, but then grew more firm.



What? He focused on the first part of her statement. He’d certainly done both. “I do believe you are wrong about that. I most certainly have kissed you. And I don’t know to what promise you refer.”