Shadow Reaper (Shadow #2)(45)

She gave that gift to him, her submission to his will. To his art. But she knew now that it was so much more. Maybe he wasn't aware of the enormity of her ceding power to him  – she didn't know him well enough to know what he thought with other models  – but she was certain she had little time left on earth and she wanted her surrender to be to him. To a man she not only found attractive, but worthy.



Keeping his hand around her wrists, he nuzzled her hair aside from her neck so that he could press his lips against her ear. "You're doing great, Mariko."



He had to feel her tremble, but his hand smoothed back her hair and his voice held nothing but admiration, respect and praise.



"Are you afraid?"



He waited and she knew he'd wait forever for her answer. He wouldn't continue. She knew he was giving her the opportunity to stop. She moistened her lips and nodded. "A little, but only of the unknown." That was the truth, and yet it wasn't. She was afraid of how he made her feel. Not just vulnerable, but so in need. She was damp with desire. Floating. She'd never felt that before. Almost euphoria.



"That's my woman." He whispered the words against the pulse pounding in her neck. His lips touched her ear and then her temple.



She dared then to raise her eyes to look into the mirror directly in front of her. He stood behind her, his head against hers, dark hair falling like sin across his forehead. His gaze met hers in the glass and she knew she would always remember that moment. His expressionless mask had slipped and she saw him, his fierce demons and turbulent needs mixed with dark, ferocious passion. He would never be like other men. He would always be dominant, scary to enemies and yet gentle with those he loved.



He reached around her and wrapped the double line around her torso beneath her pectoral muscles, all the while looking into her eyes in the mirror. His movements seemed effortless, casual, yet she was drowning in his focus, in his complete attention. She was used to disappearing no matter how large the crowd, but it was impossible to do that with Ricco. She was hot under the spotlight of his complete concentration.



She felt dizzy with need. Already her breathing had changed again, from slow and steady to ragged pants of desire. It was impossible to hide it from him. Her needs and desires were completely exposed for him to see, naked on her face, bare and visible on her body. It should have humiliated her. She should have felt embarrassment at the loss of control, but instead she felt a curious freedom.



He reached around her again and did something with the ropes, pulling them snug under her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat as he wrapped her breasts and continued creating the harness.



His mouth moved against the nape of her neck. "Breathe for me, farfallina mia."



She tried. His hands were smooth and sure as the ropes slid over her body, wrapping her up in him. The rope was clearly an extension of him. She felt him in every wrap, every tension. The rope seemed, like her, to be completely under his spell, flying out of his hands to surrender to his will, a sensuous snake dancing to his tune.



       
         
       
        



She could see a pattern taking shape. A star. He worked fast, efficiently, smoothly, but his concentration wasn't on the artwork so much as on her and the artwork together. Making her one with both Ricco and the rope, binding all three of them together.



Her mind slipped away as she gave herself over to his care. The ropes licked at her flesh, kissed her just as his lips moved occasionally on her nape as he worked. She lived for those moments. The rope seemed such an extension of him, giving her small sweet licks, gentle strokes, a scorching-hot bite and then back to the kisses. A tendril of fire curled through her body, spreading like a slow burn. Her clit pulsed in tune to her drumming heart. A shudder of pleasure slid up her spine.



She was wrapped in a rope embrace now, firm on her skin. Wrapped in him. There was no separating the two of them, rope and master. With every breath she took, she breathed in his power. Every sure movement of his fingers on the rope, on her, was a revelation. She had never thought there was beauty in such a thing as being helpless. She had seen art in ropes on a human body but she'd never felt that beauty until this moment. She had never, not once, considered that for her, there would be something sensual about the feel of being surrounded and embraced by rope  – but there was that, too.



Her body came alive, humming, vibrating, even purring. All the while her mind floated, drifted on sensual pleasure she hadn't known existed  – or that she was capable of feeling. A bright, hot flare exploded in the vicinity of her chest and spread like flames through her body, radiating outward from the ropes as he cinched her breasts tighter. The bite was scalding hot, so sensual her sex pulsed and clenched by turns. Close. So close. Her breathing changed again. Ragged. Panting. Her face was flushed. She could see herself in the mirror and she looked  – sexy. There was no other word for it.