Page 96 of Captured Ecstasy

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She wore a dress with two slits that ran up to each hipbone. There were two, matching gold garters around her thighs and bracelets on her wrists to match. The neckline gathered around her slender throat and left her arms completely bare. She was a goddess and everything around me fell away as I gazed at her, speechless.

“Peregrine, we should probably go soon,” she said, staring past me. “What is that?”

I turned and we both looked up at the twisted, marble post. The sides were covered in the tiniest, most delicate vines adorned with roses and little thorns. There were bolts at the top and bottom and soft, white leather restraints linked with gold chain.

“What is that?” she repeated.

“It’s a statue,” I said. “Of sorts.”

“What is it for?” She moved toward me, setting her purse on the table.

“It can be just for…decoration,” I said. “Or for other purposes.”

Her dark eyes were daring as they fixed on mine.

“Care to show me some of those purposes?”

Wiping my hands on a rag, I moved toward her with a slow tread. She almost purred when my hand slid up against her cheek and my thumb dragged over her lower lip. I took her hands and backed her gently up against the marble. She watched with wide eyes and quick breaths as I lifted her wrists one by one and fastened them above her head.

She looked up at me with such an expression of trust it almost broke my heart. My stomach tightened and there was a strange, intense pressure in my chest.

I was in the presence of true art. Never again would I witness anything more exquisite than the beauty of my wife. Awed, I sank to my knees before her and slid my hand up her thigh, drawing aside her dress. Between her legs was a strip of lace, a scrap of nothing.

A thin veil between my soul and sweet ecstasy.

I lifted the front section of her dress and draped it over her shoulder, baring her pussy for me. Making it so fucking naked. My fingers curled around her thong, tearing it in two and letting the scraps of it fall to the marble dust at our feet.

Bending, I gently pushed back the skin over her clit, baring that sensitive, little bud for my mouth. She whimpered, her fists clenching in her restraints, and her hips writhed.

“Keep still,” I ordered. “You keep still and don’t you fucking move until I say. Or you’ll stay tied here all night and I won’t let you come.”

She whimpered, straining her hips toward me. Her soft, divine body so heavenly against the white marble.

“Beg, little angel,” I murmured, my mouth tracing beneath the arch of her foot.

“Please, Peregrine,” she gasped.

“You know what you are to me. Beg for me and I’ll worship at your feet.”

I rose and took hold of her restraints, tugging them tighter in a quick gesture. She gasped, her toes scrambling against the floor. My fingers ghosted down between her thighs. Tracing her swollen pussy over and over the silky flesh, but never touching her clit. Her thighs shuddered and she pushed out, held back by the restraints, and tried to grind herself against my fingers.

“Touch me,” she begged.

My mouth ghosted over her clit, barely kissing it.

“Oh, you’re so close,” I murmured. “Try again.”

She swallowed, her eyes wide. She was so desperate I could smell it trickling down her thighs. I sank down to my knees at her feet where the world felt still and right. Where I found peace. With my fingers digging into her flesh, I ran my nose over the soft skin above her clit. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of her pussy.

“Peregrine.” Her voice shook. “I’ll do anything.”

She meant it. With the tip of my tongue, I teased her until she heaved with desire and tears glittered in her eyes. Her poor fingers clenched her palms so hard there were raw half circles cut into her skin. Her thighs shook and glistened with arousal, slipping unchecked from her. I let it fall until she was slick with it.

She begged me aloud through it all, but I didn’t relent because I wanted her broken. I wanted her to give up the way she had when I’d dangled her over the stairwell. She was so close, I felt it in her trembling flesh and her hoarse, whimpering cries.

Then I saw it in her face—her breaking point. I saw her head fall to the side and I knew that knot of need had to be so terribly painful between her legs. She was so good for me, my perfect angel, and she deserved release.

“Is it too much for you, angel?”


Tags: Raya Morris Edwards Romance