Heat rushed through her core. It wasn’t just his touch that burned her, it was his intent, focused lust.
She whimpered and he glanced up. Much to her disappointment, he dropped his warm hands. He turned to the bed and picked up the black strap and cuffs and held them up, a question in his eyes. She lowered her wrists, looking at his face for signs of what she should do.
“Like this,” he said, briefly putting his inner wrists together. She copied the movement, and he fastened the cuffs around her wrists. She fisted her hands and pulled experimentally at the restraints, freezing when arousal spiked through her unexpectedly. Vanni was in the process of tying off a loop at the top of the strap and paused when he sensed her stiffen.
“Are you okay?” he asked, brows pinched.
“Yes,” she said hastily, hoping he wouldn’t notice the pulse leaping at her throat.
He studied her face closely before resuming his task. “Come here,” he said quietly, pointing at the corner of the bed. She faced the post. “Arms straight and over your head.” She followed his instructions, lifting her arms and bound wrists. The position made her feel even more vulnerable than usual, pulling the skin tight along her ribs, leaving the sensitive sides of her torso exposed. He reached, tossing the small loop at the end of the strap around the top of the post. It came to rest several feet down the poster at the top of an especially fat newel in the carving. Looking up, Emma pulled. She was bound securely. She wasn’t even close to being tall enough to flip the loop off the post. Her heart suddenly beat so furiously, she felt as if there wasn’t room in her chest cavity both for it and her franticly working lungs.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Easy,” Vanni soothed. He’d clearly noticed her sudden rush of anxiety. He stood close, his hands stroking her hips and her belly. The front of his pants barely brushed the skin of her hip, but the sensation distracted her completely. He was aroused—very—and that knowledge somehow evened the playing field. He was clearly turned on by the proceedings. That aroused her, in turn.
She was vulnerable, yes, but his need was evident. He couldn’t remain aloof in this situation.
Slowly, she became focused on his caressing hands, absorbing how good it felt to have him enliven her skin and mold her curves gently. Her choppy breathing began to even under the spell of his touch. “Better? Or do you want me to unfasten you?” he asked after a moment. He was behind and to the side of her, his long legs lightly bracketing one hip, his head lowered so that his nose grazed against the shell of her ear. She turned her head, and suddenly his mouth brushed against hers. Shivers roughened her flesh. He charted them with his fingertips.
“No,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. “I want to continue.”
She felt his smile on her lips, and then he was kissing her deeply, his hands sliding over her hips and belly and ribs. Her anxiety evaporated from the rising heat. By the time he touched her nipples with questing fingertips and cupped her breasts in his hands, Emma wouldn’t have been surprised if she was steaming.
He broke their kiss and moved behind her. This time, her anxiety at not seeing him seemed to spice her arousal instead of interfere with it. He stood behind her and cupped her breasts from below, massaging and shaping them.
“Oh,” she cried out sharply when he pinched both nipples at once lightly, but firmly. Arousal tore through her, stabbing at her clit. She flinched inward slightly at the sensation, squeezing her thighs and buttocks together to contain the ache.
“Do you like that?” he asked from behind her, continuing to pinch her nipples with finesse.
“It hurts,” she said in a strangled voice. His fingers stopped their plucking.
“On your nipples?”
“No,” she gasped. “Between my legs.”
He cursed harshly and reached for her panties, drawing them down her thighs.
Chapter Sixteen
He couldn’t get over how responsive her body was. Everywhere. She was like a taut, vibrating cord. It was such a pleasure to play her. It was like she’d been given twice the number of nerves as most people.
He drew her panties off her feet and stood, gnashing his teeth as lust stabbed at his cock, making it swell and jerk. He’d never seen her naked from the back until now. It was a cruel sight for a man intent on patience. He thought her perfect, some strange combination of graceful feminine beauty and lush sexuality. Her elegant back, narrow waist, curving hips, and plump ass made him want to bend her over and take her then and there in a savage fury. But he also couldn’t wait to see all her anxiety disappear as she sacrificed it to surrender.
He saw her craning around to see him, her delicate features drawn tight, her eyes wide.
“I’m right here,” he assured, stepping forward and touching her shoulders. He lowered his hands down the beautiful sweep of her back, relishing satiny skin. He kissed her neck. “I was just admiring you. You’re exquisite,” he said, molding her hips to his palms.
She laughed raggedly. “Hardly exquisite. But thank you.”
“I’m not flattering. I’m stating the truth,” he said in an unflinching tone. She clearly had been lulled by the rest of the mediocrity-satisfied world into believing she, too, was middling-pretty when in fact, she was a gem of the highest quality. “I’ll buy you some dresses to show off this beautiful back and gorgeous ass.” She gasped and moaned softly when he took both firm ass cheeks into his palms and squeezed. His hands skimmed up her belly and along her ribs, thrilling to the subtle vibration of her trembling. He took her breasts into her hands. “A dress that molds these perfect, pert breasts,” he said near her ear.
“Small breasts,” she said, a whisper of embarrassment and apology in her voice.
“You need to learn about the difference between quality and quantity,” he said, pinching lightly at her nipples as he molded her flesh to his. Jesus, that’s all she thought of her breasts? That they were “small”? They belonged to a goddess. They were the type of breasts that drove a man mad with a need to touch . . . to devour.
He regrettably let go of them now. Playing with them, feeling how tight and hard the little buds grew beneath his fingers, was making the ache of his cock take over his brain.
“I’m going to put a finger inside you now,” he told her. She was clamping her thighs closed to alleviate her arousal, which pleased him. But he wanted access to her. Full access. “Spread your thighs, Emma. I will usually want you to keep your thighs open for me. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she replied, opening her legs.