Her Mystery Duke(26)
“You like being bound?”
She laughed, breathlessly. A little nervously. “I adore it.”
A pained expression tightened his features. “I have to fuck you.”
“Yes.”
“Now.”
“Yes, oh, yes.”
“Have you ever fucked standing?” His voice was low and wicked.
A thrill passed through her and she shook her head.
“It’s highly overrated.” He reached behind her and tugged on the bounds. “Go kneel on your bed for me.”
She pulled her arms and found herself freed.
He applied a slap to her buttock. “Go on now.”
She hurried to comply then glanced over her shoulder. He was directly behind her, standing on the floor. He put his hand on her head and pressed gently. A smile spread over her face as she pressed her head down to the mattress.
“Hold just like that.”
A familiar soft scrape sounded, the drawers to her little dresser being opened. She glanced over her shoulder. He was rifling her things. “What are you doing?”
“I told you not to move.”
“Oh, of course, my lord,” she said in a wry tone.
“Where are your stockings kept?”
“In the third drawer, second down. Whyever do you need my stockings?”
He didn’t answer; instead, he withdrew two of her old plain cotton stockings. She cringed inside. Goodness, they were certainly clean and well mended; however, she hadn’t realized how dingy their color had become. He turned and she put her head down very quickly.
Why? Why had she felt that little frisson of fear? Fear that he might catch her disobeying his silly order to be still? It didn’t make sense, but she had been afraid and it had the most interesting effect upon her. Her arousal hitched several degrees. Waiting and wondering what he would do now was also the most enjoyable anticipation.
“Give me your hand.”
“What?” She needed her hands to balance in this rather vulnerable position.
“Just give it to me.” He reached and took her hand.
Bemused, and not just a little curious, she allowed him to draw her hand down. He nudged his knee against her leg. “Bend a little deeper here, sweeting.”
With her face and one shoulder bearing into the mattress, she tried to do what he wanted.
The softness of the cotton stocking caressed her ankles. He was tying them together.
He pulled her hand behind her back. What the devil? Did he intend to render her completely immobile? How was she supposed to balance herself?
“David?” She heard the uncertainty in her voice.
“Yes, sweeting?”
“What are you doing?”
“Shh.” He took her other hand.
She resisted. It was hard, being off balance as she was.
“What’s the matter, Jeannie?”
“Please, I asked you not to call me that.”
“Of course, Jeanne. Now tell me: what’s the matter?”
“I don’t think I like this.”
“Well, I am not done yet.”
Ha! How logical he made that answer sound. “I am really feeling a little uneasy. I am quite off balance here.”
“That is what will make it all so much more enjoyable.” He bent and placed a kiss on her nape. A shiver raced down her spine. “Now please, Jeanne, be a little more agreeable.”
With his tongue, he traced a sinful, seductive path from her nape to her ear. Wet warmth flicked her lobe. A thrill shot straight from there to her nipples and into her belly. How had he done that? She went weak all over. Her arm went slack.
He pulled her other hand behind her back. In quick order, he had secured her wrists together.
Her face was all but mashed into the featherbed and her weight pressed her shoulders and breasts flatter. Yet her arse was perched into the air. Not the most flattering presentation.
She turned her head to look at him and laid her cheek on the worn sheet. “David?”
He didn’t look at her. His gaze remained riveted on her backside. His fiery eyes and taut expression reminded her of a hunter.
She was the prey.
Heated shivers tickled her insides.
“Very soon now, sweeting.”
His deep, dark velvet tone resounded deep in her belly. Wetness flowed from her core, a warm rush that only seemed to increase her arousal. Earlier her response to being tied up had been an interesting and deliciously thrilling experience.
Now she frightened herself. She was unwittingly giving him more of herself than she should. More than was safe.
“I don’t think too much of this—this…” She searched for the proper word. It was hard to think with his fingers exploring between her nether lips. “…position.”
“Nonsense.” He slipped a finger inside. “You’re very wet.”