Page 110 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

“Scream and weep and beg for me?”

“Fuck yes.” And then because I saw no reason not to get a head start. “Please.”

His fingers were still idling at my neck. He caught the corner of my bowtie and gave a sharp tug. The rasp of silk on silk made me gasp as if it was me he unraveled. “You’ll let me have complete control?”

There was something about him tonight. Some edge that felt as brittle as it was sharp. I wanted to comfort him as much as inflame him—but there was no denying what he did to me, his threats as sweet as promises to my ears. And maybe the only way he’d ever let me truly reach him was through surrender. I tried to muster my usual tone of minx-ish provocation. “I’ll give you anything you want, Mr. Hart.”

“God.” It was little more than a despairing groan. “Why? Why do you let me do this to you?”

I almost couldn’t answer, my throat too clogged with tears at the thought he’d have to ask me that. “Because I like you. Because I trust you.”

I took a chance and took his hand. Held him softly and gently. As if he were the butterfly tonight. And, when he didn’t shake me off, drew him down to my cock. Which was hot and straining and aching for him. “Because it turns me on.”

His fingers closed around me through my trousers and squeezed until I bucked and moaned. Some of the anguish faded from his face, the tight lines of his brow and mouth yielding to desire, and something tender I might have called hope. “Don’t move,” he whispered, as he stepped away.

“Okay.” My heart thumped as eagerly as a puppy’s tail. I loved the anticipation that came with his commands. And I loved pleasing him.

Of course, my nose started itching almost immediately. But I was manly and ignored it and held still as he’d told me to.

Caspian circled the pillar, leaving me standing there like Andromeda. Well, Andromeda if she’d had a massive erection. Then he drew my hands behind me and I felt the cool brush of silk against my skin.

It encircled my wrists. Pulled taut.

Oh my God.

My bowtie. He was bondaging me with my own bowtie.

I made a noise of surprise and excitement, which came out as a delirious hiccup that would have been embarrassing if I’d still had the brain space to care. I’d been fantasizing for years about what it would be like to be properly tied up and the answer was fucking amazing. Kind of like having my feet tickled. Terrifying and wonderful and just the right amount oh-no-too-much to turn my bones to treacle and fill my head with stars.

He’d pinned me with his hands and his body often enough, and I’d loved it, the weight of him and the sense of being physically overpowered. But this was different.

This was…this was special.

The care in it. Being wound inescapably in silk.

Like a gift, prepared for his pleasure.

I’d never dared struggle when he held me in case he let me go. But now I could. And so I did, simply for the visceral pleasure of feeling the knots tighten, reminding me that I was trapped. Bound. Helpless. At his mercy.

Exactly where I wanted to be.

He came back round, all flushed and wild in the moonlight, and I wriggled with wanton abandon. The absence of him, the handfuls of air between us, were so potent suddenly—as physical as hands upon me—all because it was beyond my power to breach them.

I felt like a heretic martyr waiting for the flames.

“Oh fuck, Caspian.” Wow. I sounded half drunk. “Touch me do something please.”

“Do something?” He looked gloriously wicked right then—taunting me with my own desire.

“Anything you want. Just…please.”

He reached out and flicked open the topmost button of my shirt. Cool air hit that sliver of exposed skin like a blade and I whimpered. Usually clothes went quickly when Caspian wanted me, but tonight he bared me one fastening at a time. The sense of exposure was dizzying. And entirely disproportionate considering I was still mostly full dressed.

I stole a quick glance at my bare chest, aroused and embarrassed by how brazen I looked: shirt hanging open, shoulders pulled back, nipples pointy and straining toward him like they were shouting memememe. Any other time I might have been irritated I was wearing the butterflies he’d seen before, but then he reached out and pulled lightly on their chains. I went up on my toes with a squeak, sharp little tingles shooting all the way to my cock.

His eyes were intent on mine as he circled me with the pad of his thumb. Circled and circled and circled. His caresses so light and so relentless, they quickly became torture. Attention and sexual cruelty: my two favorite things, especially from Caspian. It wasn’t long before my eyes were wet with wanting and I was writhing against the pillar, basically attempting to fuck the air.

He paused, and I sagged, relieved and aching and disappointed all at once.

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