Page 71 of Fighting for Her Heart
I moan. “Youalwaysgive me pleasure.”
“Shh.” His finger sharply flicks the tip of my tight nipple. “Let me worship you in my own way.”
My head against his chest, I nod, and his long fingers stroke both sides of my throat, the space between his thumb and index finger pressing firmly. His hand is wrapped around my neck in a way that could read threatening, but instead feels unbelievably sensual. In his own way, Zuben’s reminding me of his power, of his skills in causing pain, of what hecoulddo to me if he chose to, and I find it hot—unfuckingbelievably hot.
One hand slides back to my breast and then continues to explore every inch of my torso, finally moving down to tease across the skin right above the waistband of my leggings.
I want them off me. But I also want to let him take this as slowly as he clearly wants to. I’m starting to understand how frustrated he must have been when I teased him the other night.
I reach back for him, but he quickly yanks my arms down and ties my hands behind my back. I tug at the bindings, testing whether or not I can break free, but the knots seem to go tighter when I pull, so I decide to just let them be—for now—to pretend that I do not have the power of a vampire able to break loose from these bindings.
My hips circle; I’m completely incapable of keeping them still as his finger traces across the front of my belly, and then one dips just under my elastic waistband. My sex dampens in anticipation.
I’m desperate for him to pull my leggings down, or at least put his hand fully inside them.
But instead, his fingers slide down my hips and he turns me to face him. He kisses me, momentarily distracting me from my need to get out of my leggings, and his kiss sweeps me into another dimension as his foot gently nudges my legs further apart. As far as they’ll go with the tight sports bra still at my ankles.
Cupping my head with one hand to deepen our kiss, a lone finger slides down to stroke softly along my sex, over my leggings. Back and forth, gently flicking, Zuben’s movements are subtle and soft and driving me insane with need.
His kiss too is gentle, although deep and thorough, and one hand holds my head in place as he nibbles and explores, leaving me breathless and dreamy.
Yielding to his slow pace, I force down my frustration until I feel like I’m floating, my body craving each light slide of his finger as it teases the fabric between my legs. I’m beyond soaking wet now, and as badly as I want more, as desperate as I feel to have him inside me, I also never want this luxurious preamble to end.
His stroking varies enough to keep me on my toes, literally at times, as if my body wants to escape the exquisite torture he’s inflicting between my legs.
It feels like hours have passed when he nudges my legs closer together and slowly pushes down the leggings over my hips. But this action, too, goes slowly.
Breaking our marathon kiss, he brushes his lips over my throat and then my shoulders, and then my collarbone; his mouth working its way over every part of my upper body as his hands slide my leggings down a millimeter at a time.
His tongue reaches my belly button and circles there. I try to widen my legs again, but the leggings are now trapping my thighs together. My mind is in battle, part of me wants to step out of my clothes, to grab his cock and push him inside me, and the other part of me wants to enjoy this slow tease.
His tongue dips inside my bellybutton and I gasp at the gentle penetration, feeling almost as if he just drove his hardness inside me, and while I’m distracted by that action—letting myself feel every swirl and lick, every tiny bit of suction—he pulls down my leggings to meet the bra that’s still at my ankles.
He helps me step out of the garments, and my anticipation peaks. All this lead up is going to be worth it—more than worth it.
Using his hands to gently guide me, he moves me to another place in the bedroom, standing near the foot of the bed if I had to guess.
Then his hands lift off me completely for the first time since we entered the room.
Turning my head, I try to figure out where he went, but before I can be sure, he returns and nudges my feet farther apart, far wider than I’d normally stand.
Something clamps around one ankle, then the other. And then I hear metal sliding on metal and my legs are forced even farther apart.
“What the—?”
“Shhh.” His finger is over my lips in an instant.
I try to shift my legs, but find that I can’t. The cuffs on my ankles are attached to something solid that prevents me from moving my legs closer together. A moment of fear traces through me. Has Zuben regressed? Is he preparing me so he can inflict serious pain?
My insides tighten and I feel moisture drip out of me. Even if that’s true, I don’t care. I trust him not to take the pain too far.
He unties my wrists, but then quickly snaps something soft around one. Then he lifts my hands up until my arms form a W, and he clamps a soft cuff around my other wrist, and something solid, but padded, lands across my neck and shoulders.
Trying to move, I realize my hands are now spaced apart and secured, just like my legs. Where did he get the equipment he’s using?
I’m standing, spread wide, immobilized, my sex—my entire body—exposed and vulnerable to whatever he desires. I can’t touch him, I can’t see him, but I sense him as he circles around me. Given our proximity, sensing his movements wouldn’t have been difficult even before I was a vampire, but I can tell that my powers of detection are growing.
My head makes tiny adjustments, following him as he moves around me. He opens the armoire and sets down on the bed things I can’t see.
