I lean in close, my lips brushing his ear. “Good. Because you’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.”
I spend long minutes teasing him, dragging my nails over his chest, lips grazing his jaw, hovering just above him without giving him what he wants. Every time he strains against the rope, I murmur, “Uh-uh. Behave.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much. Who knew you had an inner sadist? I like her.”
I then begin a slow strip tease, removing one item at a time and dropping them to the floor. He watches me like a predator.Like he could step right out of his bonds and devour me if he chose to.
I preen under the ferocity of his hungry gaze. Finally, I am fully naked and he groans as I dip two fingers into my core and lift them to his mouth. He sucks obediently and I feel a heady rush of power. I guess I’m a switch after all.
“Good boy,” I whisper, and his eyes flash. His muscles bunch as if he’s about to break free. For a second, I think he might. But then he exhales hard, eyes locking on mine. He stays. He obeys. And fuck, the power of that undoes me.
“Emmy…” His voice is hoarse.
I lower to my knees and look up at him through my eyelashes before licking the head of his cock with a decadent swirl of my tongue. His body jerks at the contact and he groans as I tongue the slit at the top before taking him fully in my mouth. He’s practically panting by the time I finish working him, and when I finally climb onto his lap, the sharp inhale he makes is almost a growl.
I cup his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “You’ve been so good for me tonight.”
The sound he makes in response – low, guttural, utterly undone – goes straight to my clit.
I tear open a condom and roll it down his shaft, giving him a squeeze that makes him groan.
Then I sink down onto him slowly, deliciously, until I’m stretched and full of him, and his head tips back, eyes closed.
“Eyes on me,” I order, and when they open again, the heat in them is almost enough to break me.
I ride him slowly, then faster, feeling every tremor in his thighs, every flex of his arms as he tests the rope. His muscles strain, his breath comes faster, but he doesn’t break the rules.
When I feel him getting close, I lean forward, pressing my lips to his ear. “Come for me, Luke. Now.”
And he does, with a sound that’s half-growl, half-moan, his body arching into mine as I follow right after, grinding my clit against his pubic bone and riding it out until I’m trembling.
By the time I untie him, his skin bears my rope marks, and his hands go straight to my face, holding me there like I’m the only thing in the world.
“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, smiling in that way that still steals my breath.
“Oh, you have no idea,” I say, kissing him slowly, luxuriously.
I run the bath for us both and we sink into the heat together. I wash his hair and he relaxes in my hands like putty. I can really see the appeal of performing aftercare. A scene like that takes a lot of trust and I know that he was out of his comfort zone.
It wasn’t a test but I knew that giving up control would be a really great sign that he’s doing the work in therapy.
My heart feels fit to burst.
“Hey, we ticked something off my list too,” he says, twisting to look at me. “Enjoy a romantic bath together.”
He gives me a shit-eating grin.
CHAPTER 48
Luke
Before we know it,Ellora is a month old and Emmy and I are throwing a little tea party for her at mine. It was her idea, naturally, but my space is bigger and I’ve barely used it for entertaining. She couldn’t hide her delight when I offered to host, and her happinessismy happiness.
Emmy, Chloe, and Sloane declared that this would be the antithesis of the baby shower, and there’s not a balloon, a melted Mars bar, or a melon ball in sight. Instead, there’s a generous spread of tortilla chips, guacamole, olives, cheese twists, and quiches, along with a potato salad and a bag of Haribo. Everyone brought something and there is absolutely no culinary cohesion, which is part of the afternoon’s charm.
Chloe and Josh’s kids are running around like hooligans, hitting each other with cushions and attempting to pull open every drawer and cupboard I own. Thank God Emmy and I hid all therealtoys under lock and key upstairs.
Sloane plonks a pitcher of spicy margs in the centre of the spread and declares it complete.
