Claim Me(27)

“You heard me.”

I lick my lips and swallow. My fingers twitch with the desire to obey. To feel where our bodies are joined, and to stroke the hard length of him even as I tease my oh-so-sensitive clit.

“I—I thought that was naughty,” I say, feeling strangely shy.

His response alone almost sends me rocketing into space: “Maybe I like you naughty.”

I gasp, then swallow. Then I lift my right hand from the bed. It throws off my balance, but he keeps me steady with the arm around my waist. I slip my hand down, barely brushing over my slick clit. My body clenches, my muscles tightening greedily to draw him further inside me. I feel glorious, full, and so desperately close that I know only the slightest touch will be the end of me.

I want it, and yet I also want to feel him. The way our bodies are joined as he slides deep inside me. I ease my hand back along my own slick folds. I feel him there, like velvet steel, and I hear his guttural moan as I gently stroke him.

“Jesus, Nikki, I can’t hold back.”

“Then don’t.” I close my eyes, and my fingers have barely grazed my clit when he trembles, tightening his grip around my waist as he fills me. His release triggers my own, and I clench tight around him, dropping my hand back to the bed so that I don’t fall, too sensitive to continue touching myself, anyway.

“Nikki,” he says when his body stops quivering.

He releases my waist, then immediately catches me when I start to sag, my legs so weak I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to stand again.

“I think you’ve unraveled me,” I say. “If you were going for punishment, though, you missed the mark completely.”

“Did I?” His voice rises provocatively. “Sounds to me like you’re assuming I’m done with you. I assure you, I’m not.”

“Oh.” My pulse kicks back up again. “That’s a very interesting bit of information.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re intrigued.” He slides a hand down my still weak legs. “But this time maybe you ought to lie down. You seem a bit unsteady.”

“You think?”

He scoops me up so that I am once again cradled against his chest. I feel warm and safe and cherished, and when he places me gently on the bed and presses a soft kiss to my forehead, I want to cry from the sweetness of it all. But then his eyes take on a devilish gleam. “Don’t go to sleep on me yet,” he says as he unties the cord from around my neck—then immediately ties it to my right wrist. He attaches the other end very firmly to the bedpost.

His face is right over mine, his smile undeniably wicked. “I’m going to enjoy this. And, Nikki? So will you.”

I lick my lips, all thoughts of gentleness fading under the weight of Damien Stark’s decadent, silent promises.

He retrieves the robe from the foot of the bed and pulls out the sash. He trails it lightly over my body, then smiles with purpose. “Left hand.”

I comply, raising my hand above my head and gripping the bar of the headboard. My arms are spread wide now, my back slightly arched, and my legs tightly together.

“Nice,” Damien says, once he’s secured that wrist as well. “But I think we can make it nicer.”

With obvious purpose, he slides off the bed, then walks to the door that leads to the patio. It’s made of sliding glass panels, and he opens them now, letting the night breeze come in. The air is cool, but my body is so much on fire that I don’t even notice. He stands next to the door, his hand running gently over the gossamer white drapes that fluttered against me as I posed for Blaine.