“Mine,” he repeated between ragged breaths.
Harper didn’t reply. In that moment, it seemed ridiculous to comment further on the obvious.
• • •
Even though she couldn’t see him, his harsh breathing joined them, somehow. So did the feeling of his testicles pressed tightly against her outer sex and the feeling of the warm liquid coating her belly and ribs. Slowly, his breathing evened and his semen began to cool. He pushed himself off the mattress. She waited breathlessly. Then came the sensation of the soft towel pressing against her skin, drying her of his ejaculate.
A moment later, she heard the bedside table drawer open. The blindfold slipped off her head. She blinked dazedly. The mattress gave as he sat next to her. She stared up at him, hungry for the image. Starving for it. He looked down at her, his expression solemn. He held her stare, but she was aware of his hand moving over the rope restraint, tactilely checking that the rope held secure and that his planned releases were intact.
“You’re comfortable?” he murmured.
The dull ache between her thighs, the feeling of the cool air tickling her aroused, wet sex nudged at her awareness. “Yes,” she whispered, panting shallowly. He’d built a boatload of sexual tension in her. Her nipples were tight and hard, and the soles of her feet simmered.
A smile flickered across his firm mouth. “All except for this?”
Her eyelids fluttered at the sensation of his fingers brushing softly against the pubic hair over her mound. Too softly. Her sex clenched tight. She moaned miserably. God, she was right on the edge.
“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “I’m not trying to torture you. Just tell me what you want, Harper.”
“To come,” she said shakily. “Please make me come.”
His hand covered her entire mound. She cried out at the forceful pressure. He circled his arm subtly. She gasped, her head coming off the pillow as the first harsh shudder of orgasm shook her. After a mindless moment of flooding sensation, she became aware that he watched her fixedly as he worked every last bit of tension and pleasure out of her body.
She exhaled, her head falling back on the pillow. He continued to stimulate her, but slower now, making her shiver in post-orgasmic bliss. She opened her heavy eyelids. Their stares held as his hand continued to move between her thighs.
“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly.
She smiled. She was too worn out to speak.
He lifted his hand and stood next to the bed. She rolled her head, watching him. He lifted the towel from the bedside table and used the corner of it to wipe off his hand. He tossed down the towel.
“That’s how wet you were,” he commented dryly, referring to his glistening fingers. He turned his attention to her bound wrists. He quickly loosened the knot that bound her arm to her leg. He released her other arm, as well, then drew both hands over her head.
“Bend your elbows and rest them on the pillow,” he instructed gruffly. “Take a comfortable position.”
When she’d done what he’d asked, he tied her wrists together, binding her hands above her head. Then he stood next to the bed, gazing down at her, and she couldn’t help but wonder with a mixture of rising excitement and anxiety what else he had in store for her.
Her gaze ran the length of him. He looked hard and awesome, both intimidating and calm at once. His cock was long and firm, neither erect nor flaccid, but at some in-between stage. She had a vivid fantasy of sliding him into her mouth in that state, and feeling him harden against
her tongue, his girth beginning to stretch her lips wide . . .
“Don’t look at me like that, Harper,” he said, his tone a silky remonstrance. He reached for something on the bedside table and sat next to her on the bed. She heard the click of a cap and stared at what he held in his hands. It was a bottle of light pink lubricant. He spread some on his fingers and then closed the cap. He set the bottle aside.
“Your nipples,” he said thickly, reaching for her. “I’ve never seen them so hard as they were when I was inside you. It was driving me crazy,” he mused. He rubbed the lubricant onto a nipple. Her back arched slightly off the bed at the stimulation. With her hands tied above her head, he had free access to her breasts, which she recognized was what he’d intended. He turned his attention to the other nipple, rubbing it deliberately with the lubricant.
Watching his intent focus—and feeling the result—made her flex her hips downward on the mattress in mounting excitement. He lifted his other hand and pinched and massaged both nipples at once. She moaned, incredulous as need swiped at her again with a sharp claw.
As if her moan was his cue, he suddenly knelt by the bed. He took a breast into his palm and slipped a nipple into his mouth, torturing the flesh with his agile, firm tongue and precise suction. Perspiration shone on the valley between her breasts. He swiped his tongue along it before he sucked the other aching nipple into his hot mouth. She laid there, a captive to her own arousal, her breathing growing rough. He switched again, sucking her other nipple into his hot mouth.
The moment stretched as he awakened her flesh to a state of sharp excitement yet again. She called his name in dazed dissatisfaction when he lifted his head a while later. He calmly reached again into the bedside drawer and withdrew what she recognized as a bullet vibrator. She heard the slight buzz as he turned it on. He reached between her thighs, pressing it against her clit. She cried out sharply as simmering pleasure swamped her.
“You know I love to watch you come.” His deep, fluid voice washed over as the bullet vibrated against her clit. “Does it feel good?”
“So good,” she gasped.
He leaned down and brushed his mouth over her parted lips, as if he was absorbing the minute trembling of her straining body. She saw the hot gleam in his eyes. She knew it then, that she was his captive . . . in more ways than one.
She was falling in love with him, she realized with a mixed sense of euphoria and dread.