Page 31 of Irish Vow

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I wait for him next to the bed as he’d asked—no,commanded—barefoot with the plush rug between my toes, soft against the scarred bottoms of my feet, with my hands clasped in front of me and my head bowed. I can feel my blood racing through my veins like a second heartbeat. I want him so intensely that it’s almost painful, my breath catching in my throat as I hear the bedroom door creak open and see his black Italian leather shoes crossing the darkly gleaming hardwood floor towards me.

Liam stops in front of me, and I feel his fingers slide under my chin, tilting my face up so that I’m looking at him. He reaches around, switching on the lamp by the bed so warm light floods out, softly illuminating the room. I can see an expression on his face that I’ve never seen before.

“Tell me again that you want this, little lass,” he says softly. “That you want whatever punishment I choose to give you.”

I nod, my mouth so dry that I barely feel like I can speak, the words catching in my throat. “I want it, Liam. Ineedyou to punish me, so we can wake up tomorrow and try to start fresh. So there’s no lingering resentment. You’ll punish me for having been a bad girl, for letting Alexandre touch me, for wanting him. You’ll take my body back from him, and then it’ll be only us. I want this, Liam. And you do too, I think.”

“Oh, lass, you have no idea.” Liam’s voice is hoarse with need. “I’ve not done something quite like this before—but I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about doing it toyou.” His fingers stroke along my cheek. “I won’t be fucking your sweet pussy tonight, though, lass, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

My eyes widen, and I know he can see the disappointment in them. “Liam—”

“Shh.” He presses a finger to my lips. “When we do that for the first time, Ana, it won’t be a punishment. It certainly won’t be on the same night I almost lost you to another man, even if it’s to make you mine. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be inside of you, lass.” He looks down at me; his eyes are so full of dark desire that it sends a shiver down my spine. “You’ll take whatever I choose to do to you?”

I nod speechlessly, my throat so choked with need that I can’t speak.

“You’ll need a word, I think, if it gets to be too much.” His gaze turns thoughtful, and his other hand strokes down my side, gathering the rippling material of my dress in his fist. “Emerald, I think. That’s your word, Ana. Say it, and I’ll stop. But I can’t promise you'll stay if we don’t bring this night to its conclusion.” Liam’s green eyes search mine, and I can see that under the desire, the hurt is still there. “I can’t keep loving you if you still love another man, Ana—if you’re not entirely mine.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “I understand.”

“Good,” Liam murmurs the word throatily, his hand drifting up my spine. He finds the zipper of my dress, his fingers tugging at the delicate pull. “Then, little lass, it’s time for your punishment.”

TWELVE

ANA

Slowly, Liam pulls down the zipper of my dress. I can feel in his touch that he wants to make it last, that he’s drawing this out on purpose. Part of me wonders if he thinks this could be our last night together, and just the thought of that makes my heart ache.

If you use it, I can’t promise that you’ll stay.Liam is tired of waiting, and I can’t entirely blame him. If what he said about Saoirse is true, if he never planned to marry her, then he’s been risking a great deal all this time waiting—mostly patiently—for me to get over Alexandre, to put him in the past, something that I’d shown tonight I haven’t yet done. Not completely.

So this is my chance to show Liam that I’m his entirely, that I trust him not to take it too far, not to push me further than I can manage. A chance for him to showmethat even if he misstepped with the ballet, he does understand me. That he understands my core, what I need right now for us both to start again.

His fingers skim down the warm, bare flesh of my spine as he pulls the zipper down, and I shiver. I feel like I can’t breathe, my heart racing, my skin tingling with anticipation. I’m already wet—I can feel it on my bare pussy beneath the dress, on the soft inner flesh of my thighs. Liam fingering me to an orgasm in the restaurant feels like it happened in another lifetime, but I remember how good it felt. How a part of me wanted him to do exactly what he’d threatened and spread me out atop the table for the entire restaurant to watch him pleasure me.

“You’re trembling, lass,” Liam murmurs hoarsely. “You’re frightened, but you want it, too. I canfeelhow much you want it.”

He reaches up, pushing the fragile straps of the dress off of my shoulders, letting them slip down my arms as his fingers caress the soft skin there, tracing my collarbone, down the v of the neckline to my cleavage. “I won’t do more to you than you can bear, Ana,” he says softly. “You asked for pain, but it will never be too much.” His hands fist in the satin on either side of my waist. He jerks downwards, stripping the dress from me in one smooth motion so that it pools around my feet, leaving me completely and utterly bare. “Do you trust me, Ana?”

“Yes,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “I do, Liam.”

“Good.” His hands skim over my bare waist, over my slender, trembling body as I stand there nude, looking up at him. Once again, I’m completely bare while he’s still fully dressed, and I can’t fully describe how arousing it is to me, how intensely, vulnerably erotic it feels.

He unbuckles his belt, and my breath catches in my throat as he slides it out of the loops, at the whisper of leather on fabric. “Give me your wrists, lass,” Liam says, and I raise my hands mutely, palms pressed together, wrists outstretched. He loops the leather around them, and I gasp at its feeling against my skin as he pulls it taut, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to bind my wrists together.

“Lay across the bed,” he instructs. “Face down, and spread your legs for me. I want to see how wet you already are for me.”

I blush when he says that, becauseIknow how wet I am, how deeply aroused, and in a moment, he will too. But unlike in the past when I’ve wished I could hide it from him, tonight I want him to know. I want him to see the evidence of how much I want him, to let my body be the proof of how I feel.

“I’m not going to tie you to the bed, Ana,” Liam says. “Your wrists are bound for my pleasure, so you can’t be overcome and touch yourself or me, but I’m not going to restrain you otherwise. I want you bent over this bed of your own volition, willingly taking your punishment. I want to see that you’re here because, deep down, you want this. Because you’ve asked—beggedme for it, not because I’ve tied you down.”

His voice is deep, his accent thicker than ever, sending desire rippling over and through me. “You’re going to display yourself for your punishment, Ana, and you’re going to do it now.”

I can feel myself trembling all over with need as I obey, turning to face the bed so that the front of my thighs are pressed up against it and bending forward, my wrists dangling over the other side. Unless I turn my head from this angle, I can’t see him. That only heightens my arousal, wondering when his first touch will come, what it will be.

Obediently, I spread my thighs open as I hear him step towards me, and I hear the noise he makes deep in his throat as I’m displayed for him, wet and swollen, waiting for his touch. I feel his hand stroking up the back of my thigh, making me tense with anticipation. I hear the light moan that slips from Liam’s lips as his fingers rise higher, feeling the sticky flesh of my inner thigh, stroking along the soft puffy flesh of my outer pussy lips.

“I can see you glistening for me,” he murmurs. “So wet, so needy for your punishment. You’ve been a bad girl, but you’re always so good for me here. Wet and wanting, just like I like you.”

I moan softly, my back arching as I push myself into his hand, wanting more. I want him to slip his fingers between my folds, stroke my throbbing clit, and thrust them into me. Still, he keeps his touch light, teasing me without ever delving inside before his hand returns to my thigh, and I whimper in protest.


Tags: M. James Romance