Fall from India Place (On Dublin Street 4)

He felt a shudder go through her now and savored it.

“Yes. I understand,” she said, her voice stronger than before.

He nodded his head and continued his precious mission, lowering the straps, revealing her ripe, succulent breasts, taut belly, and round hips. She wore no panties. His nostrils flared hungrily at the sight of her smooth labia tucked between pale, shapely thighs. As always, seeing her exposed had an almost cruel effect it was so sharp. His cock gave a vicious lurch against the confines of his boxer briefs and pants. The gown slipped down her legs to pool at her feet.

He took her hand and she stepped out of it, nude save the leather cuffs.

“Lie down on your back on the bed, but I want your head at the foot,” he said quietly, pointing at the foot of the bed. He saw her eyes widen slightly at that, but she followed his direction nonetheless. When she’d taken the position, he methodically began to attach the straps to her leather cuffs, tightening the restraints and checking with her to make sure she was snug but comfortable.

When he finished binding her last ankle, he straightened and looked at her, taking a moment to fully appreciate her beauty. She lay naked with her legs spread and her arms outstretched toward the lower bedposts. He could easily see her pink pussy, the lush color and delicate shell-like shape of it so exquisite next to her pale, smooth thighs. The bed possessed a carved headboard but no footboard. Her dark hair lay in a cloud around her shoulders and head, strands of it falling off the end of the mattress. She was so stunning, so tempting, that it hurt him to look at her, but it was an ache he would never forsake.

The loveliest things of all were her eyes. He sensed a thread of anxiety in her gaze, but desire and trust trumped her uncertainty by far.

“You’re sure you’re comfortable?” he asked.

She nodded, her gaze never leaving his face. He put his hands on the mattress and started to join her on the bed. “Then let’s begin, mon petit chaton,” he whispered roughly.

•   •   •

A thrill of excitement and trepidation like she’d never known before went through her at Kam’s words combined with the vision of him coming onto the bed on his hands and knees, lean, bulging muscles rippling, his manner reminding her more acutely than ever of a stalking predator. Perhaps he saw some of her anxiety after he’d straddled her body, because his brows quirked slightly as he watched her face. She wasn’t afraid of him, she was just nervous about her reaction to being bound . . . to sacrificing control. Being completely restrained didn’t frighten her—she believed Kam when he’d said he would stop their play at her request. It was just that she didn’t know what to expect of herself. The anticipation and the anxiety had her drawn tight as a piano string.

“Shhh,” he soothed, searching her face, even though she hadn’t made a sound. He must have seen her nerves. “I’m just going to kiss you,” he murmured. He lowered. She exhaled with an expulsion of pent-up tension at the sensation of his big, solid body pressing her down into the mattress. He leaned on one elbow, keeping his upper body weight off her, his long legs between her spread ones. His bare lower belly pressed against her mons, the pressure on her aroused sex feeling delicious.

And she was aroused despite her uncertainty. She had been ever since she’d buckled the leather straps around her ankles and wrists and felt their strangely erotic weight. Prisoner. Slave. The words had popped into her head at the vision of the thick black cuffs, both embarrassing and enticing her.

She looked into Kam’s gleaming eyes as he brushed her hair off her temple and cradled her jaw in a possessive, prizing gesture. If she was a prisoner, it wasn’t to him alone. She was ensnared by her own need, by this heady, singular desire for Kam. It was the sweetest trap, and one of her choosing.

He lowered slowly, his gaze fixed to her mouth. And yet it was her brow that he kissed. At his silent bidding, she closed her eyelids and let him kiss her there, her held breath burning in her lungs. He paid tribute to her temple, cheek and nose, his lips so firm and warm and patient, that by the time he landed on her sensitive lips, she gasped and trembled.

He kissed her for long, delicious minutes, his manner so deliberate, his intensity so great, that she found her tension melting, her sex turning to warm, sweet syrup beneath the pressure of his body. Her world became Kam and his deep, sensual kiss.

“Oh,” she sighed when he plucked at her lips with a lazy hunger she loved. “That was nice.”

He molded her moving lips to his. “Everything about you is perfect, but I could live on your mouth alone.”

“I would never deprive you in such a way,” she whispered, kissing him back feverishly.

“Because all of you is mine?” he asked gruffly, kissing her jaw and neck.

“Yes. Yes,” she chanted mindlessly as he took one of her breasts into his palm and squeezed gently. Her breath caught in her lungs as he lowered, her anticipation sharp. She gasped when he took the sensitive crest into his mouth, sucking and laving the nipple with his stiff tongue. She moaned, her hips shifting instinctively, but between the restraints and Kam’s weight, she was trapped . . . exactly where she wanted to be.

Suddenly he made a growling noise in his throat, a thrilling mixture of frustration and arousal. He scooted his knees up on the bed, kneeling over her. He placed his hands on the outsides of her breasts, pushing them together, his face between them, his growl vibrating into her flesh. He lifted his head and began kissing and licking both nipples at once. Lin whimpered not only at his rough, sweet treatment, but also at his intensity. “Your breasts make me crazy. I will turn your bottom red sometime for putting them on display in that dress tonight.”