Fifty Shades Darker(233)

"Arms behind your back. I'm going to cuff you."

He produces some leather cuffs from his back pocket and reaches around me. This is it. Where's he going to take me this time?

His proximity is intoxicating. This man is going to be my husband. Can one lust after one's husband like this? I don't remember reading about that anywhere. I can't resist him, and I run my parted lips along his jaw, feeling the stubble, a heady combination of prickly and soft, under my tongue. He stills and closes his eyes. His breathing falters and he pulls back."Stop. Or this will be over far quicker than either of us wants," he warns. For a moment, I think he might be angry but then he smiles, and his heated eyes are alight with amusement.

"You're irresistible," I pout.

"Am I now?" he says dryly.

I nod.

"Well - don't distract me, or I'll gag you."

"I like distracting you," I whisper, looking mulishly at him, and he cocks his eyebrow at me.

"Or spank you."

Oh! I try to hide my smile. There was a time, not very long ago, when I would have been subdued by this threat. I would never have had the nerve to kiss him, unbidden, while he was in this room. I realize now, I'm no longer intimidated by him. It's a revelation. I grin mischievously, and he smirks at me.

"Behave," he growls and stands back, gazing at me and slaps the leather cuffs across his palm. And the warning is there, implicit in his actions. I try for contrite, and I think I succeed. He approaches me again.

"That's better," he breathes and leans behind me once more with the cuffs. I resist touching him but inhale his glorious Christian scent, still fresh from last night's shower.

Hmm... I should bottle this.

I expect him to cuff my wrists, but he attaches each cuff above my elbows. It makes me arch my back, pushing my breasts forward, though my elbows are by no means together.

When he's finished, he stands back to admire me.

"Feel okay?" he asks. It's not the most comfortable of positions, but I'm so wired with anticipation to see where he's going with this that I nod, weak with wanting.

"Good." He pulls the mask from his back pocket.

"I think you've seen enough now," he murmurs. He slides the mask over my head, covering my eyes. My breathing spikes. Wow. Why is not being able to see so erotic? I am here, trussed up and kneeling on a table, waiting - sweet anticipation hot and heavy deep in my belly. I can still hear, though, and the melodic steady beat of the track continues. It resonates through my body. I hadn't noticed before. He must have it on repeat.

Christian steps away. What is he doing? He moves back to the chest and opens a drawer, then closes it again. A moment later he's back, and I sense him in front of me. There's a pungent, rich, musky scent in the air. It's delicious, almost mouth-watering.

"I don't want to ruin my favorite tie," he murmurs. It slowly unravels as he undoes it.

I inhale sharply as the tail of the tie travels up my body, tickling me in its wake. Ruin his tie? I listen acutely to determine what he's going to do. He's rubbing his hands together.

His knuckles suddenly brush over my cheek, down to my jaw following my jawline.

My body leaps to attention as his touch sends a delicious shiver through me. His hand flexes over my neck, and it's slick with sweet-smelling oil so his hand glides smoothly down my throat, across my clavicle, and up to my shoulder, his fingers kneading gently as they go. Oh, I'm getting a massage. Not what I expected.

He places his other hand on my other shoulder and begins another slow teasing journey across my clavicle. I groan softly as he works his way down toward my increasingly aching breasts, aching for his touch. It's tantalizing. I arch my body further into his deft touch, but his hands glide to my sides, slow, measured, in time to the beat of the music, and studiously avoid my breasts. I groan, but I don't know if it's from pleasure or frustration.