Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(93)

His finger slipped inside that lace and now a new need replaced the old. Syria realized her mistake. She was going to want to have sex with him, would be desperate for it, and she would be bound to her own restriction.

The panties eased down her thighs, then fell to her ankles. Erik lifted her knee as before to step her out of them. Syria needed touching so badly she wanted to do it herself, but Erik understood. “Is this okay?” he asked, his hand curling around her thigh.

“Yes,” she managed to get out, and then his fingers were where she needed them to be, pressing into her folds, expertly fluttering against her clit.

Syria clutched at his shoulders, relaxing into his touch, feeling the shift of power as he stood over her in the suit, fully dressed, while she clung to him, naked save her delicate black heels.

She looked over his shoulder at the entwined couple of the man and the bondage girl. Erik released her, and she felt less out of control as he accepted a pure white rope from the man and slipped it around her waist.

Syria wanted to ask him about his experience with bondage but he so expertly wrapped her breasts with the rope that he answered her. He seemed to know she wanted the knot and tied one, pressing it into her clit with a practiced hand.

He passed the rope to the other man, who began the process of making the elaborate braid across Syria’s body. She was swiftly immobilized, her elbows high, her hands behind her head. The ropes slid across her back, both tight and soft, and each jerk of the rope sent the knot deeper against the sensitive bud.

The man stepped away and gave the end of the rope to Erik. “Surely,” Erik said, pulling Syria close to him slowly, inch by inch, until she was up against him and his hand cupping her breast, “we should not deny the others the beauty of this work.”

Syria’s eyes went wide as she realized he meant to take her into the main room. She first thought to plant her feet and refuse to walk, but then he pulled on the rope, driving the knot against her, and his mouth returned to her breast. He jerked on the ties, rhythmically and with force, until Syria let go of everything, her worries, her fear, her inhibition. The man held the curtain as Erik walked her out into the hall, and the room hushed to hear her cries, as he led her, pulling on the rope, getting her so close to peaking, then pausing so that she writhed against the ropes.

The music swelled around her, seeming almost tangible against her skin. It followed her across the room, to the dance floor, and the beat matched up to the tug of the rope, the press of the knot, and her spiral into the next level of pleasure.

Erik circled behind her, running one hand along her body as the other worked the rope. Now that they were still, Syria found she could not hold back, and the shattering of orgasm spread up from the knot and through her body. The music matched, growing louder as as she screamed, then the cymbals crashed and it all came down together in a shower of emotion, sound, and pulsing pleasure than lingered on her body even after the orgasm subsided.

She had kept her eyes closed but now she took in the scene. Men and women, standing, sitting, some riding each other, but watching her, loving her, using her to intensify their own experiences. Erik walked around and scooped her into his arms to take her back to their chaise. She laid her head on his shoulder, sleepy now, and she trusted him to take care of her.





11: Recovery


Syria felt the car bank to the left, her body shifting without a seat belt on a leather seat. Her head was lying on someone’s lap.

She popped up. Erik looked down at her. “Feeling better?”

Syria pushed her hair out of her face. It had come down from her updo. They were back in the Mercedes, and driver Bill sat in front, eyes on the road.

“What time is it?” She felt very groggy and odd, like she’d been sleeping for hours.

“Six a.m.”

“What?” Syria peered out the tinted windows, but the streets were quiet and dark. “When did we leave the restaurant?”

“About midnight.”

She turned back to Erik, the headlights flashing across his face as a lone car passed them. “Have we been driving the whole time?”#p#分页标题#e#

“It’s been my pleasure to spend the night with you,” Erik said.

“You didn’t want to take me home?”

He smiled in the dark, and she could see his teeth. “I did not want the night to end.”

She wondered if anyone had missed him, or if they had the right to. She stared out the window again, trying to figure out where they were.

“I’ve already narrowed down the search for your father,” he said.

She whipped her head around at that. “What?”

“There are over a thousand men named Arnav Sharma in India. But my associate was able to narrow the field down to just a few dozen possibilities in the right age range—”