Page 50 of The Gilded Cuff
“I specifically told you to wear the dress and nothing else. Did you misunderstand the instructions or did you rebel on purpose?” The dark carnal gaze he covered her with made her thighs clench tight together.
“Uh…I misunderstood?” she answered in a breathless whisper.
His hand holding her cheek moved around to tangle in her hair and he tugged her head back. “Try again.”
Sophie licked her lips, noting the way his eyes tracked the movement with fascination.
“I rebelled.”
His hold in her hair eased the slightest bit, but his breath quickened. Suddenly he dug the fingers of his other hand into the silk of her panties and ripped the fabric. The small garment dropped to the floor at her ankles. She was bare, completely open now. She felt more vulnerable to him than ever, as though the destroyed undergarment had provided some defense to his wandering hands.
Emery shaped the curve of her bottom, clenching the rounded flesh once before dipping his fingers lower, to the folds of her sex. He brushed them, teased them apart and sank one finger deeply into her. Sophie arched up, pleasure zinging through her limbs like bolts of electricity. He swirled his finger, then thrust it deeper, repeating these two actions as he moved his lips to her neck. Starting with soft kisses, he worked his way down to her collarbone, then back up to her ear, mixing licks and nibbles as he commanded her attention with his mouth and hand.
The power of his hold over her was like a spell. He used her body, plucking at it like strings on a harp, until she was quivering and aching to sing for him in a melody of pleasure and need. She tugged hard on her bound wrists, trying to free herself so she could touch him, feel his muscles ripple beneath her body. A twinge of pain circled her wrists but it faded in the wake of Emery’s skilled kisses. The rush of the oncoming climax built like a storm gathering high in the clouds and Sophie sucked in a breath, her eyes closing as she awaited the explosion of passion.
In an instant, Emery robbed her of the orgasm that had been so close. He withdrew his hand from between her legs and released his hold on her hair. When he stepped back, she saw the victorious gleam in his eyes. He raised his hand to his mouth, sinking one of his fingers between his lips. The action was so subtle, yet so seductive. Her knees knocked together as she watched his full sensual lips suck her honeyed essence from his fingers. The blood still pumped in her ears, violent and hard, as though she’d climaxed and she was still hanging on the edge. Watching him lick his fingers, clean them of her taste, made her crave his mouth between her legs, even knowing it would probably kill her if he ever licked her there.
The dark and flirty smile he flashed at her was blinding. He knew exactly what his actions did to her—unwound her from the inside out and spun her back wildly into his world where she had no control. Without a word he turned and walked into the bathroom to wash his hands. Sophie’s arms and legs shivered with the near release. She squeezed her thighs against each other, feeling her slick juices coating her legs.
Damn! She wanted to scream with frustration. He’d done it on purpose.
When Emery returned a minute later, he carried a small damp hand towel. He knelt at her feet and raised her skirt with one hand while he washed her clean. She parted her legs, humiliation coloring her face and flooding her with heat as he washed away the remnants of her unfulfilled desire.
He dropped the cloth onto the floor and pushed her skirts out of the way even more. He rubbed his cheek against her right thigh, the prickle of his stubble burning her skin deliciously. With a heavy sigh, he pressed a kiss against her inner leg, close to the apex of her thigh, and then moved back, dropping her skirts. When he stood, he once more towered over her. He slid his hands up her arms, massaging her muscles before he reached her wrists and held them doubly imprisoned between him and the cuffs.
“I know you’re angry with me. But you deserved far worse than that for your punishment. I am feeling lenient and grateful to you for comforting me today. So I went easy on you. In the future…” he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “The more we come to know each other, trust each other, the less I’ll let you get away with. Don’t disobey me again.”
The words “or what?” died on Sophie’s tongue at the strange mixture of shame at her behavior and comfort from being held by him. It was an odd contradiction, and her heart and mind were unable to process it. She had disappointed him and it left her feeling restless and anxious. The more time they spent together, the more they seemed to become attuned to each other. Sensing the other’s needs, not just their desires. He was craving her just as much as she craved him, and it wasn’t just sexual anymore. They were relying on each other emotionally, something she’d never thought would be possible for her, and he acted as though it hadn’t been possible for him either.
Yet, as he held her, she knew he wasn’t angry; perhaps his disappointment was only temporary. She would make it up to him. She’d promised to be submissive. It was part of their bargain, but somehow it was more than that. She wanted to submit, not because of some agreement they’d made, but because of how pleased he was with her when she successfully surrendered to him. She wanted to see approval gleaming in his eyes, feel the touch of his hands in pleasure rather than in punishment.
Emery unlocked the cuffs and brought her wrists down, rubbing at the reddened circles left behind. Neither of them said anything for a long moment as he massaged her wrists.
“Time to go meet the parents?” Her smile was strained and tension tightened her face.
“My mother is sweet, and my father…well, just don’t let him intimidate you. His bark is worse than his bite.” Emery chuckled at the pale look of fear on her face. “Trust me. You’ll do fine. Be yourself.”
Sophie walked with him outside the room and down the hall before she spoke. “That’s what worries me. Be myself? With my job, I doubt they’ll find that endearing.”
“Endearing? No. But they might be relieved.” He tucked a lose coil of her hair behind her ear.
“Why?”
Emery and Sophie reached the stairs that led down to the main entryway.
“I’ve never told them what happened that night. They deserve answers. They deserve the truth. And you are going to help me give it to them.”
Chapter 12
MIRANDA ANDELLIOTLOCKWOOD ARE LOSING HOPE.STILL NO SIGN OF THEIR MISSING SONS.
—New York Times, September 20, 1990
The sound of voices reached Sophie long before she saw the source. A soft, lighter voice, slightly husky, merged with a rich baritone one. Sophie shot a glance at Emery, who walked calmly beside her toward the door, but his hand gripped hers so tightly she thought her bones might break.
“They’re early,” he noted with surprise.
Panic swept through her. Her muscles cramped and her lungs seized.
