Page 97 of Hostile Vows
His deep, rich voice carries in the silence, crackling from his serious gaze to mine. “I’m asking you to trust me. Can you do that?”
“I… I’m not sure about this, Dré…”
“Do you trust me, Sinéad?” he persists.
I swallow the crazy flutters stuck in my throat. “Yes.”
My lashes blink wildly as he stalks toward me, rope in hand, eyes focused. Dark hair grazes his brow, and his boxer briefs are tented.
“Good girl.” A rogue smile plays on his kissable lips. “Guess what, Wifey…” He stops a breath away, his bare toes almost touching my boots. “Rule number one is to never run away from me. After your performance at Club Vice, you owe me. Now strip.”
I take a steadying breath and pull my top over my head. His eyes follow my hand to my zipper, and he growls under his breath when I kick off my boots and shimmy out of my jeans. He cups one of my breasts and gently massages it. I can’t believe he’s still into me after everything we’ve been through.
Keeping body contact, he shakes out the skinny rope, threads it under my arms, and circles my diaphragm with it, leisurely working behind my back. He’s methodical in his concentration. His breath is hot against the side of my face as he rolls me into him and winds the length over the top of my breasts.
With a sharp jolt, he tightens the knots he’s made at my spine, not too tight, yet firmly secured to make escape difficult. Again, he rotates me into his pelvis and trails the rope over my shoulder, fitting it snugly between my bare breasts. He works there too, twisting and weaving the soft cord before it snakes upward in a V-shape to my opposite shoulder. As he confidently creates an ornate zigzag, I gaze down at the pentagon he’s created. Butterflies crash and burn in the wake of his touch and the blazing heat he radiates.
Towering above me from behind, he drops his lips to my neck and drags his teeth to my shoulder. I shudder from the proximity and suck in sharply when he assertively cinches the rope in its labyrinthine pattern.
“You’re stunning, Sinéad.” The way he says my name, all husky from too many cigarettes and important conversations, has my skin prickling.
“And you’ve done this before…” I gasp when a helter-skelter of shivers cover my skin. “With other women.”
“Many times.” He hums low and seductive while hoisting my arms behind my back and folding them so my palms meet opposite elbows.
Jealousy scorches my veins. “Which makes this an ordinary, everyday thing for you?”
André works quietly for a few moments, focusing on the task of binding my forearms multiple times by expertly knotting and attaching them to the woven creation at my spine.
For a second, I think he’s going to ignore my comment until he spins me around and cups my cheeks, his chest rising and falling with every quick inhalation.
“There’s nothing ordinary about the way you make me feel.” The gravelly texture to his tone slips to darkness, his lusty gaze dawdling over the elaborate design that showcases my breasts.
Both of his hands burrow into my hair, one of them cupping the back of my head to hold it in place. He stares at me for a heartbeat, impatience seeping through his fingers as they cinch the lengths to tip my head backward. “You’re mine,” he confirms, his expression genuine. “Understood?”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly.
Imprisoned before my husband, my pulse thrums when his mouth crashes over the top of mine. André doesn't just kiss me; he owns the very air in my lungs, claims every racing thought in my mind, and completely devours my soul. His plunder hunts all of me, leaving my old life upturned. It’s a messy clash of teeth and bruising lips. A master demanding submission or a possessive husband professing devotion to his wife.
Breaking away, he plants both hands on my shoulders. “Kneel for me.”
If I had wanted to escape, I’d be powerless to do so. My legs may well be unbound, but they tremble with adrenaline and a deep-seated weakness for this man's authority. As I obediently sink to my knees, he hunkers to my eye level and nudges my chin upward, using the tips of his fingers. His stonelike erection dominates the gap between us, springing up next to his carved abdomen, thick and primed for a brutal explosion.
“You have all the power even when you're tied up like this.” He swallows. “Don’t ever run away from me again, do you hear me?” His gaze burns red-hot when I nod. “Good girl. Now let’s see how wet my dirty little wife is for me.”
A blistering bolt of pleasure starts where his touch skates from my jaw to my pebbled nipples and lower. “I’ve imagined your sexy pale curves wrapped and bound with red knots since the first time I plunged my dick into your throat.” His hand moves between my legs. “Looking at you now with my ropes next to your soft skin makes you the hottest woman I’ve ever seen, Wifey. But if you think running from me is the answer, I won’t be so forgiving the next time. I’ll become a savage tiger who’ll hunt and break the fragile prey that you are and believe me… Iwillfucking demolish you.”
He twists my nipple, hard. One, and then the other. I yelp when he slaps each of my breasts in turn. Skin to skin. Sharp stings and firm pinches, his rough touch commanding.
“André…” I breathe his name. “I don't want to be a trapped housewife with no life outside of us. I need adventure. Thrills. Interaction with other people who won’t get shot in the face by my husband.”
“What are you saying?” His tone cracks like I’ve shattered the thin veil of his decorum.
37
SINÉAD
“Tell me what you need from me.”
