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Shadow Reaper (Shadow #2)(106)

By:Christine Feehan




She licked her lips again, causing his cock to jerk hard. "I've thought about those very same things," she confessed. Her voice was soft, but it was confident. "And yes, I can stand while you photograph me, but my body is burning up."



He flashed another wicked grin. "Good. I love how you look right now. So hungry, farfallina mia. I hope all that hunger is for me." He hoped it was for Ricco, the man, not only Ricco, the rigger.



She lifted her chin. "It is." Her eyes met his.



His heart jerked as hard in his chest as his cock did in his pants. He had to move before he did something stupid like take her like a madman right there on the floor. It wasn't what he wanted with her.



He'd been so focused on creating certain images that somehow the person was just a canvas, no matter how sexual the pose. With Mariko, he was so focused on her that every tie was personal, sexual and erotic. He realized, with her, he could easily be into bondage. He fucking loved how she looked in ropes and it was a complete turn-on to use his erotic secrets on her body.



He steadied her, brushed her neck with another kiss, and then checked her hands to make certain they were still warm. "Wiggle your fingers for me. Are you numb anywhere?" As a rider she was in superb physical condition, and he knew that helped.



"No. I'm fine. Just … " She shivered. "Needy."



His wicked smile flashed again. He liked her needy. He gave the rope another tug, wanting to keep her right on that edge. He pooled the black lace robe around her bare feet and adjusted the lighting. The camera loved her. He took several pictures with various lenses, from every angle. The longer he looked at her through the lens, the more he wanted her.



Abruptly he put down the camera. He had to know. It was too important to him. His hands automatically went to the ropes. Now they would forever have her scent on them. Her ropes. No one else would ever see or feel them. Slowly he unwrapped her, removing the coils, unknotting each decorative rope, sliding them through his hands to feel her warmth and to make certain there were no splinters.



"Don't slouch, farfallina mia. I know you're tired but I don't want any ropes to pull or move on you while I'm untying. I can cut you out if you're too tired."



She shook her head. "I'm not." There was a hint of desperation in her voice.



Standing behind her, his fingers on the knots, removing the coils from around her body, he put his mouth against her ear. "I want you with every breath I take."



"I want you the same way." There was no hesitation.



"Me? Or the rigger? The rope master?"



"It's the same thing."



"No, baby, it isn't." With the corset off, he tugged on the knotted rope so that she cried out softly, her skin flushing a soft rose. "I will agree it's part of me, but I don't want or need ropes to make love to my woman. I need to know if you need the ropes to want to be with me."



       
         
       
        



Her long, feathery lashes fluttered. Lifted. He found himself falling into those beautiful amber eyes. Flecks of green had intrigued him when he'd first met her, there in the conference room of the Ferraro Hotel. Now her eyes were all amber, exotic, a cat's eyes.



"I came here tonight not to be your rope model," she admitted, looking him straight in the eye. Her voice rang with truth. With absolute certainty. "I wanted to seduce you, and I noticed when you tied me you were aroused. I thought if I came to you the way you asked, dressed in the robe and nothing else, I'd have a chance."



His eyebrow shot up. His hands were moving faster, sliding beneath the rope to ensure she didn't get burned or pinched as it coiled in his hands. "I get aroused because it's you I'm tying. I don't see other women when I tie. Their bodies are canvases I work with or practice on. I don't fuck them after I tie them."



He removed the knotted rope carefully. It was her rope now. He cleaned all his ropes with care, but this one would always be special.



Her eyes didn't leave his. She didn't blink. She looked at him as if he'd grown two heads  – or she didn't believe him.



"Mariko, I don't bring women to this house. Ever. I've never had a woman in my bed. I don't sleep with them. Or want to hold them all night. I don't tie them here; I just created this space after my accident in hopes of finding you. When I'm working, it's all about how the creation looks and the right lighting. The poses are sexual, even blatantly erotic bondage, but for me, working with the rope, the art I create centers me. My mind calms and I see only the creation in my mind."