Page 57 of The Gilded Cuff
“When I wish to. First, I have to do what I’ve been aching to do since the moment I first saw you.” Without a warning he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He set her down and retrieved the chains. The sight of them, and knowing he would restrain her completely, made her heart skip a few beats and rush to catch up.
She remained still, only moving her body when instructed. After a few minutes he had her arms and legs tied to each corner of the bedpost. The chains were snugly fastened to silver rings on her wrist and ankle cuffs.
Emery knelt on the bed between the V of her thighs and simply looked at her.
“You are stunning. Like no other woman I’ve been with. You are real.” His soft murmur made her writhe against the restraints. His eyes narrowed on the small struggle and he grinned wolfishly. He settled his hands on her waist and leaned over.
Her body vibrated with need, with excitement. And yet she was scared. Not of being hurt. He would never hurt her. But she knew on some level that being with him, truly and completely, would change her forever. No other man’s touch would drive her mindless with sensual hunger. He would possess her totally and she would never be free of the memories of him. She didn’t want to be free. She wanted to melt into him, merge with the passion he drew forth from her, and be the wild, wanton creature he summoned with his smile, his kiss, and whisky-rough whispers of what he was going to do to her. Bad things. Deliciously bad.
He sat back on his heels and slipped his coat off, tossing it on the back of a nearby chair. Then his hands settled on his tie. He loosened and slid it over his head and then, with a truly sensual and wicked twist to his lips, he slipped it over her head and down around her neck. He tightened it enough for her to feel the knot against her throat. He stroked the tie flat between her breasts and then tweaked each nipple back to life. Sophie moaned, trying to raise her hips. The chains were tight enough that she had no real ability to move. The sounds of her slight struggle against the bonds was mixed with the sound of his harsh breathing. She strained up, meeting his hooded gaze, knowing the depth of her power over him in that instant. She had the ability to control how much he enjoyed being with her; it was as she’d been told. The submissive had the power, not the dominant because a true dominant could only find pleasure when his partner had submitted willingly. The way Emery’s eyes glittered with passion and hunger as well as pleasure was the only proof she needed to see that her surrender heightened his desire. He wouldn’t have enjoyed this if she wasn’t enjoying it too.
“I like it when you wear my clothes.” He bent his head and licked and nibbled a path up from her belly to one breast, taking the nipple in his mouth. His teeth sank into the tender flesh around the nipple and his tongue flitted out, laving the peak.
Sophie threw her head back, bowing with sheer pleasure as he started to suck hard on her breast. She thrashed wildly as his mouth worked miracles on her breast and his hand shaped the curve of her hip before settling on the back of her leg where her bottom met her thigh. The skin there was soft and sensitive and his fingers teased her, gliding back and forth, drawing closer and closer to her center from behind.
When he reached her slick inner folds he drew his fingertip in lazy patterns, spreading the moisture that pooled there. Before she expected it, he slid that same finger into her sheath. Sophie arched off the bed, gasping. Her reaction spurred him to a quicker pace. He added a second finger, pumping them deeper inside.
“So tight,” he ground out between clenched teeth. Emery moved, looming over her as a third finger joined his other two. He worked them slowly and gently, but he was firm, preparing her.
Her inner walls clenched around his fingers, trying to pull him inside her. “Emery, please…I’m not going to last much longer.”
“All right, sweetheart,” he breathed against her lips. She had only a moment to be surprised at the gentle ardor with which he’d spoken before she heard the whisper of a zipper and the rustle of clothes. Then the head of his cock was nudging at her core.
She wanted to kiss him, wanted to have his mouth on hers, but he was watching her, his lips parted as his breathing hitched. Then he was inside her. The thrust was sharp and hard, and they shared a moan of pleasure when he withdrew and thrust in again, his hips inching closer and closer to hers. The entire time he worked his way into her, their gazes were locked.
A lock of burnished gold hair fell into his eyes and lent him a boyish look, not like that of the hardened wealthy recluse who’d insisted he’d never let her inside his heart and soul. That wounded man had vanished. The man above her in bed was fresh with passion and emotion. His hazel eyes were warm as honeyed chestnuts and his lips were just as sweet as he murmured sweet nonsense. Each time he pulled back, then moved into her again, it was like coming home. Frissons of pleasure began to radiate out from the point where their bodies connected. Her arms strained against the restraints, but he covered her completely and the skin-to-skin contact satisfied her need to touch him for now.
Heat rippled beneath her skin in response to each movement of his hips. Like a symphony, they moved in time with each other, finding a rhythm that spiraled them together down a road they’d both been afraid to travel. Sophie kept her eyes on him, memorizing the shadows and moonlight and the feel of his heart beating wildly against hers. He jerked, his pace suddenly more frantic, more desperate.
“Come for me, sweetheart, I’m not gonna last, I…” He cursed at the same moment her own body unleashed the wild passion that had been locked inside for years. It exploded out of her in every direction and a little cry of shock and delight escaped her trembling lips. Her body clamped tightly around his, clinging to him as he followed her over the edge.
They’d made love. It had been the most blindingly intense thing she’d ever felt. Emery dropped his head in the crook of her shoulder and neck, kissing her skin delicately. She shifted his semi-hard length still inside her. What they’d done…it could never be undone. What had she been thinking?
Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them back. Emery lifted his head and frowned. His brow knitted and he cupped her cheek.
“Was I too rough?”
She managed to shake her head.
“I meant to last longer, Sophie. I’m sorry I didn’t.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, his cheeks slightly flushed.
“No,” she distracted him. “It was fine, you were…” A smile teased her face. “You were the best I ever had…willever have,” she added more quietly.
“And that’s worth tears?” He caught one stray drop by her cheek and wiped it away, rocking his body gently at the same time, and Sophie moaned. Her sheath continued to clench and quiver around him in the aftermath of the most devastatingly perfect climax ever.
“What will happen when we’re done? We have to go our separate ways, you know that. I will hate knowing I left this behind,” she whispered.
Emery’s face clouded with a dark emotion she couldn’t read, then it was gone and he lowered his head to take her mouth.
Right before his lips captured hers, he spoke again, “Hold on to this moment; don’t think about tomorrow. Just be with me.”
She surrendered herself, her heart and everything in her that she’d held secret all her life. He owned her and she couldn’t find the strength to care, not tonight.
Chapter 14
THE OFFICER STOPPED HIS CAR AND APPROACHED THE BOY, NOTING HIS BONY APPEARANCE AND THE SEVERE BRUISES ON HIS FACE, AS WELL AS A DEEP CUT ALONG HIS CHIN.
—New York Times, September 30, 1990
