Page 86 of Redemption

“Put your hands behind your head, and keep them there.”

When I’m in the position he desires, he settles behind me. His thighs are on either side of my own, and his broad chest cradles my back. He presses one big hand to my sternum, urging me to lean into his strength.

I melt against him with a sigh.

“Breathe with me,” he murmurs, nuzzling my hair and inhaling my scent.

Salt-kissed cedarwood enfolds me, and I relax further into his embrace.

Our chests rise and fall as one as we take deep, even breaths together.

My heartbeat is slow and steady beneath his hand. I wonder if his matches mine.

A sense of intimacy blossoms between us. I’ve experienced carnal bliss with him many times, but this bond is so intense that it’s almost painful. My body hums for him, but I’m not throbbing with desperate lust. I could simply stay in this peaceful space with him for an eternity.

We drift for a while, and my eyes slide closed as my head drops back against his shoulder. He presses tender kisses along the column of my throat, warming my body with simmering desire.

His broad palm remains pressed over my heart. His other hand is wrapped in rope, and when he drags his knuckles beneath my breasts, the slightly rough hemp stimulates my sensitized skin. I’m hyperaware of him, and my nerves sparkle and dance everywhere the rope grazes me.

I release all of the lingering tension in my body on a low moan and surrender to him completely.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Such a sweet pet.”

The rope wraps around my chest in a slow, sensual embrace. His hands never break contact with my skin while he binds me. We’re constantly connected, melting into one another.

My heart beats for his.

The rope winds around my chest, knotting in an intricate pattern that I can’t quite follow. Dane handles me with quiet confidence, and I simply all myself to be with him.

I don’t have to fight. I don’t have to say anything.

All I have to do is remain where he’s positioned me and breathe with him, just as he’s commanded.

But as the rope coils tighter, my chest is constricted incrementally. I try to match his breaths, but my lungs can’t fully expand beneath the steady pressure of the rope cage he’s weaving around me.

“Dane.” I pant his name and draw in a sip of oxygen.

“Your body is mine,” he intones, tugging the rope a fraction tighter. “Your breath is mine.” Another tug, another shallow breath. “Your pleasure is mine.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

I’ve entered an almost meditative state. All that exists is my breath and his hands on the ever-tightening rope.

My lashes flutter, and my mind floats.

The pressure stops increasing, but the tension doesn’t ease. He ties off his work, leaving me in the restrictive embrace of his cruelly sensual rope.

He hasn’t bound my limbs at all. I could try to run away if I wanted to. I could try to free myself from his knots.

But I’m thoroughly subdued by his will. I submitted as soon as his hand settled over my heart.

He gently grasps my wrists and directs my arms to drop. “On your hands and knees.”

The murmured order sinks into me, and I float into position. As I move my body, the rope shifts around me in a tight caress. His hand settles on my back, stroking the length of my spine, and I arch into his touch.

My pleasure is warm and pleasant, like a perfect summer morning on a pristine beach. I bask in it, reveling in the beauty of the perfect moment with him.

His touch trails lower, tracing my swollen, aching folds. I’m wet and ready for him, and he growls his satisfaction when he tests the slickness between my legs.

---