Page 57 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

Emboldened by his reaction, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my skirt, shimmying it down over my hips until it pools at my feet, leaving me bare before him. A thrill of anticipation runs through me as Graeme rakes his gaze over my naked form, taking in every curve and hollow.

“Come here,” he commands.

I move towards him as if pulled by an invisible string, drawn to the heat of his body like a moth to a flame. When I’m close enough to touch, Graeme reaches out, his large hands grippingmy waist and pulling me flush against him. I gasp at the contact, my bare breasts pressing against the rough fabric of his shirt.

He joins his mouth to mine in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep, claiming me. I moan into the kiss. He pulls back.

“You’re okay with me taking control?” he asks, getting clear consent from me.

“Yes,” I breathe, desire pulsing through me so strongly that I might combust. “Please.”

“And protection?” he asks. “We have condoms in the chest. I’m clean, though. I’ve been tested recently and I’ve—I’ve never gone bare with someone.”

My nipples tighten. It’s so fucking hot that he’s stopping to ask these questions. “I’m clean too and I’m on birth control. We can use a condom if that’s what you prefer. But if you’re comfortable with it, I’d love to skip it. I just… want to feel you inside of me, fully.”

Graeme’s eyes flash with primal hunger. “We’ll skip it, then,” he says.

In one swift motion, he sweeps me into his arms, carrying me towards the large, ornate bed. He lays me down gently on the plush duvet, his powerful form looming over me.

The bed, of course, immediately starts vibrating.

My heart races as Graeme begins to methodically remove his own clothing, revealing his chiseled physique inch by tantalizing inch. I drink in the sight of him, marveling at the raw power emanating from every line and plane of his body.

Once fully unclothed, Graeme reaches into the carved wooden chest at the foot of the bed—the one we were both mortified by on our first night here—and retrieves a set of padded handcuffs. He dangles them from one finger, gauging my reaction.

“Do you trust me, Ecco?” His voice is a low rumble, filled with dark promise.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “Yes,” I whisper, desire and nerves warring within me. “I trust you.”

With a nod of satisfaction, Graeme secures the cuffs around my wrists, the soft lining a sensual contrast to the cool metal encircling my skin. He lifts my arms above my head, attaching the cuffs to a hidden hook on the ornate headboard. I tug experimentally on my bonds, a thrill racing through me when I realize I’m completely at his mercy.

Graeme steps back, his heated gaze raking over my bound and bared form.

“You’re exquisite like this,” he murmurs, appreciation and hunger warring on his face. “Laid out before me, trapped where I know you’re safe, mine to devour.”

His words ignite a fire in my core, my body aching for his touch. But Graeme seems content to take his time, trailing a single finger down the column of my throat, between the valley of my breasts, over the quivering plane of my stomach.

I arch into his touch, a needy whimper escaping my lips.

“Please,” I beg, too far gone to care about my pride. “Touch me, Graeme.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I intend to do much more than touch you, little siren.”

My breath hitches as Graeme kneels before me, his broad shoulders nudging my thighs further apart. He places a reverent kiss on my inner thigh, his cool skin sliding deliciously against me. I squirm against my bonds, desperate for more, for the heat of his mouth where I need him most.

But Graeme takes his time, trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses up my leg, his tongue darting out to taste my skin. He nips playfully at the crease of my thigh, so close to my aching center but not nearly close enough.

I let out a frustrated whine, arching my hips in a silent plea.

“Patience, Ecco,” he admonishes, his voice a low, seductive purr. “I want to savor you.”

His words make me gasp, my core clenching with want. When his mouth finally, finally reaches the apex of my thighs, I nearly sob with relief. Graeme takes a deep inhale, as if intoxicated by my scent.

“You smell divine,” he growls. Graeme’s tongue darts out, dragging a slow, torturous lick up my folds.

My hips buck off the bed, a strangled moan tearing from my throat at the exquisite sensation. He chuckles approvingly against my sensitive flesh, the vibrations making me shudder.

Then he sets to work in earnest, his mouth hot and demanding as he devours me. He licks and sucks at my most intimate places, spearing his tongue inside me before swirling around my aching clit.

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