Was she worried she would fall short somehow, and not meet his demanding expectations?
If you are honest . . . you’ll please me every time.
The recollection of what he’d said to her last night gave her courage when Lucien led her back to the bedroom immediately upon their return to the penthouse. His face looked like it’d been cast from stone it was so tense, as he turned and began to undress her without preamble. He’d unlocked her bracelets before they’d left Fusion. When he’d removed her jacket and blouse, she stood before him wearing only the skirt, her shoes, the necklace and nipple chain, and her bracelets.
He moved to take off her skirt and looked at her face. He paused.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyelids narrowing.
She nodded. When he continued to stare, she said, “I’m a little afraid.”
“Of me?” he asked, his eyebrows slanting.
“No. I’m afraid I won’t be able to please you.”
His mouth fell open. He stepped closer and cradled her jaw. “That’s not even a remote possibility. Trust me on that. Do you?” he asked intently.
She looked into his eyes and nodded.
“You’ve already pleased me more tonight than I’ve ever been in my life.” He bent and touched his mouth to hers, his kiss a quiet reassurance he’d take her safely through the storm. He lifted his head a moment later.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you with kid gloves,” he said, his tone reminding her of velvet-covered steel.
“I don’t want you to,” she assured. Now that she’d spoken of her insecurity, and heard Lucien’s response, she experienced a sense of mixed regret and reassurance. She shouldn’t have been afraid. Of course he would keep her safe. Of course he wouldn’t demand anything of her she couldn’t give.
But can he keep me safe if he doesn’t share in the love that’s threatening to burst out of my chest? You’ll be all alone, then, even if Lucien is right by your side.
Her thoughts were so volatile, she longed to distract herself from them . . . make her fear a distant memory.
“Good,” Lucien murmured. “Because you drove me to the brink of madness tonight.”
She touched his jaw and brushed her body against him, the slight abrading of her erect, tender nipples against the fabric of his suit coat thrilling her. She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “I will help you stave off madness. I am your slave. Use me for your pleasure,” she whispered, letting him read the dare in her gaze. She saw something spark in his light eyes. His nostrils flared as he looked down at her.
“You needn’t offer yourself. I would have taken what I wanted anyway, because you are mine to do with as I please.”
Fresh arousal spiked through her at his stark dominance. He reached behind her and unfastened her skirt, pushing it down her hips and thighs until she stepped out of it. She stood before him naked except for her heels and jewelry. When he gently released the loops on her nipples, she bit her lip to halt a cry at the quick, sharp pain resulting from the sudden release of pressure.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. He set aside her necklace and the nipple chain and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. The pain faded as quickly as it came. He ran his hands over her hips and sensitive sides. He gently caressed her sensitive nipples. She shivered uncontrollably beneath his touch and blatantly possessive stare.
“Your nipples are so large now, so pink. So beautiful,” he said, his fingers worshiping.
“Lucien,” she said, her desperation rising.
“I will not draw this out any further,” he said with sudden decisiveness. He led her over to his large bed. “Put your hands on the railing and bend over.” Excitement built in her when she took the position, her hands bracing her weight on the mahogany rail that ran between the two end posts, her heartbeat throbbing in the tips of her suspended breasts.
“Stay put,” he said.
She craned around and watched as Lucien walked into his dressing closet. When he came out a moment later, he wore nothing but his suit pants, his delineated muscles gleaming in the soft lamplight. She couldn’t help but notice how full his cock looked behind the fly of his trousers and riding along his left thigh. She yanked her gaze off the compelling sight, frowning in puzzlement at what she saw in his hands.
One of the items she recognized immediately: the black leather crop he’d used on her the night in the stables when he’d taken her virginity, the one he’d said was now hers . . . not hers to use, but to have used on her. A thrill went through her. A shiny wooden shoe-polish box was tucked under his arm. The third item had her completely puzzled, however. Hanging from his left hand was something made of incredibly supple black leather. Two straps hung loosely, swaying.
She was still staring at the leather item when he approached her and let the wooden shoe-polish box drop to the floor. He placed the crop on the bed.
“Lucien . . . what is that?” she asked through a tight throat, referring to the leather thing with straps.
She wasn’t expecting his small smile when he turned to her, or that familiar, devilish gleam in his eyes. He’d been so stern and tense all evening that his playfulness took her by surprise.
“It’s a leather corset, of sorts. Very strong. Very durable. I thought it would look extremely sexy, next to your white skin,” he said, holding up the corset. Elise gasped when she saw the two thin leather straps sewn to the back of the soft leather, one on each side of the zipper.
“Are those . . . ?” she muttered in amazement.