Page 39 of Goldsin

And more.

His lips leave a feverous trail as they descend toward the swell of my breasts.

“He should see how fast you come for me.” He cups my left breast, teeth piercing the flesh, before he tears the material off.

I cry out, but my protests die in my throat.

I don’t have the time to feel the cool air, because his teeth sink into my nipple. Sucking, his tongue soothes the pain away, leaving me wanting more.

I can’t?—

I need to?—

I can’t let him?—

I can’t make this easy for him. He just decided one day that I was worth his time, and now he’s between my legs without even putting in any work?

Threading my fingers through the back of his hair, I pull his mouth away from my breast. Searching his eyes, I pant, “In your fucking dreams.”

His lips spread. A devilish smirk greets me. “You already are.”

I’m lifted from the floor before I can get a word out, and I squeal as he throws us onto the bed, his body pressing me down. The hard length of him digs into my stomach as I contain myself from grinding my body, succumbing to the desire he’s ignited in me.

His fingers trace their way down my waist, teasing the sensitive skin beneath my waistband.

A shiver covers my body, and before he hooks his finger to shed my underwear—my remaining dignity—I push him away, using my legs to throw him onto the bed.

Pressing him under me.

He growls deep in his throat as I make a scene of settling on his hard dick. Grabbing his wrists away from the dip of my hips, I pin them above his head.

We both fucking know it would take him less than a second to throw me under him, toss my underwear to the side, and thrust in.

And he would make ithurt.

Addictively so.

“You like me at your mercy, golden one?” He grins at me, eyes flicking between mine and my exposed breasts.

“I’d like it if you called me by my name,” I say, scanning the room for something to tie him up with.

“You didn’t that night,” he breathes, just as I spot a pair of handcuffs on the shelf atop the headrest.

The shelf is filled with an assortment of sex toys and other pleasure devices—some familiar, others foreign and vaguely intimidating.

I lean in, delicately skimming my lips over his, but not enough to fall for the taste of them. I can’t afford to let Julian consume me.

Holding his wrists with just one hand, my fingers inch above us, catching the handcuffs without making a sound. The feathery touch is a consolation for what I’m about to do.

“Remember,” I murmur, unlatching the cuffs. “You asked for this.”

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze narrowing. Only when the metallic click of the handcuffs echoes in the silent room does he understand.

“Aurelia . . .”

“Sorry, Julian.” I watch as he struggles against his restraints. “But I have a party to attend.”

“Unlock these cuffs right now, Aurelia!” he snarls, tugging at the handcuffs attached to the bedpost, but I ignore his orders.

---