Page 24 of Etched In Stone
“I’ll feed you.”
Of course, he will. How silly of me.
I felt the corners of my mouth tilt up in a knowing smile, anxious to find out what else my husband had in store for me.
Once my wrists were anchored, he shifted me until I was propped against the pillows, loosening the ropes just enough for comfort. Then his hands framed my face, his touch both reverent and claiming, before his mouth descended on mine.
The kiss hit like a storm—hard, hungry, hot, and utterly consuming. His tongue tangled with mine in an erotic rhythm that stole my breath and made my toes curl. I melted beneath him, my body liquefying under the dominance of his touch.
Almost as suddenly as it began, he broke away, leaving me gasping in the charged air between us. He slid off the bed, only to return moments later with a tray. My curiosity spiked as he set it aside, positioning himself so my legs draped over his thighs and disappeared behind his back.
I glanced down—there he was, his thick length resting heavily on the bed between us, the sight alone sending a bolt of raw need straight through me. My throat tightened with the urge to taste him, but I swallowed it down, my body thrumming with restrained hunger.
Alexander plucked a plump, glistening olive from the tray and brought it to my lips. His sapphire eyes locked on mine, darkened with a heat that made my pulse race. Slowly, he pushed the briny fruit past my lips, his gaze daring me to take it. I chewed, the tangy burst filling my mouth, while his other hand skimmed down my throat, between my breasts, and lower still until he found the slick evidence of my desire.
He traced along my slit with deliberate precision, my body reacting instantly—tightening, clenching, the subtle pressure against the plug still nestled inside me making my breath hitch. He fed me another olive, then a bite of creamy cheese and ripe tomato, each morsel accompanied by the decadent torture of his touch.
His fingers were a concerto of pleasure—sometimes teasing, sometimes demanding—sparking heat in every nerve ending they brushed. My body trembled, awareness narrowing to nothing but the slide of his skin against mine, the electric connection between us, and the desperate, building need that threatened to consume me whole.
But he wouldn’t give in to my pleas for release.
I began to lose track of time. At some point, he fashioned clamps to my nipples. The hard points protruded through the tiny vises, vulnerable and sensitive to the slightest touch. When he leaned forward to flick his tongue over an erect peak, I nearly bucked off the bed.
“Alex, please!”
I felt the curve of his smile on the side of my breast, and I wanted to scream. My need and desire were so hot it was near agony. So when he finally curled his fingers inside me, my orgasm was instantaneous.
“That’s it, angel. Come for me,” Alexander demanded in a gravely tone.
Air stole from my lungs, freezing me in place as the intense swell surged through me. It rose faster and hotter until I thought I was going to explode. Stars dotted my vision when Alexander plunged a third finger inside me, flexing mercilessly to prolong my orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure rocketed through me.
“Oh…God.” I could barely breathe the words as I rocked my hips, milking his fingers until the tremors began to subside. A delicious tingling extended to the tips of my every extremity.
Once I’d come down from the intense high, he removed his fingers from my body and shifted closer until we were mere inches apart. He brought his gaze to my lips, then raised his hand to place the fingers that were slick with my juices to my lips.
“Lick them clean,” he ordered.
Meeting his eyes, a magnetic pull intensified our connection as I parted my lips enough for him to push his fingers into my mouth. My tangy flavor, combined with his salty release from earlier, coated my tongue, reminding me of the intensity of our connection.
Oh, wow. This is hot.
I traced over each digit in a slow, deliberate dance—my tongue curling and gliding in a rhythm meant only for him. Every movement was a silent promise, an offering, an invitation. His gaze locked on mine with an intensity that made my skin prickle, like he was memorizing not just the way I touched him, but the very essence of me.
When I suckled, his breath caught—a sharp inhale that sent a ripple of satisfaction through me. His eyes roamed, sometimes holding me captive with their piercing stare, only to drift downward, lingering on my breasts with a hunger that made me burn. I loved that look—the way it stripped me bare without a single touch, the way it told me I was his perfect vision of desire. That I was more than enough. That I was everything. The low, primal growl rumbling from his chest was all the confirmation I needed, a sound that vibrated straight through my core.
When he finally seemed satisfied, he slid his fingers from my mouth, leaving a faint trail of warmth in their wake, only to claim me with his lips. His kiss was a delicious contradiction—soft yet edged with dominance that brooked no refusal. He drew me closer, his grip unyielding as he guided me down until my back sank into the mattress. My arms stretched above my head, the restraints biting sweetly into my skin, a physical reminder of just how much control I had surrendered.
And God, how I craved it.
His body pressed down on mine, his defined edges and contracting muscles sharply opposing my soft curves. Our breaths mingled, creating a shared rhythm that mirrored the beat of our hearts. When he entered me again, the world around us faded into a dreamy cosmos, leaving only the intensity of the moment.
Chapter 13
Alexander
The early light of morning spilled through the sheer curtains of The Lucy’s primary suite. The rays were soft and warm against my skin. The yacht swayed despite the absence of the engine humming, a reminder that we were still anchored in the crystal waters off Enchanted Isle.
I stirred slowly, my internal clock registering the time even before I glanced at the sleek chronometer on the nightstand. Nearly seven o’clock—a time that would have found me already dressed and reviewing market reports in my New York penthouse, but here in this floating sanctuary, such rigid schedules seemed like another lifetime.
