Lucian sees it all, and it unravels things within.
“I don’t mind it,” I whisper.
He smiles and then nods for me to follow him. Turning, he walks away, and I trail after him.
“Where are you going?”
But he doesn’t answer as we enter his bedroom. He goes to the walk-in closet and takes out a black bag. “Do you remember when you said to me last night that I’ve been omitting the truth from you?”
I nod.
“I want to change that, but there is a time and a place for everything and sometimes patience is needed.”
I don’t like where this is going.
He takes a long time to consider. “Sometimes questions can’t be answered immediately.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just that.” He opens the bag and pulls out a red rope, very similar to the one he’d used at the vampire sex club. Those memories flood me and excitement burns flame-bright in my veins. “I’m going to start by telling you that I’ve been thinking about tying you up ever since our first visit to the club. And I’ve been patiently waiting until I could do it again.”
“I…I don’t…” My breathing picks up. “I don’t understand.”
Like it or not, Lucian is as delicious and addictive as blood.
The merest smile touches his mouth. “Take off your clothes.”
I don’t move. Not because I’m horrified by his words, but because Iwantto do it. With the kind of desperation that’s carnal and feral.
When he winds the rope around his hand, the excitement surges stronger, more urgent. Then he pulls out a scrap of what looks like black silk.
“Oh…” It comes out like a moan. This time, there’s an air of no holds barred, no limits, and I’m dying for it. And he’s calm, emotionless, staring at me, waiting.
Slowly, I strip naked, pushing the spaghetti straps of the summer dress down my arms, down my breasts, to my waist, and he watches me. Intently. Not saying anything.
When I step out of it, he approaches me.
There isn’t a command spoken about getting to my knees or assuming positions. In fact, he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he walks around me, inspecting, touching me lightly with his fingertips, lingering on the healed bullet wound, now just a faint red mark, and then he takes my chin, rubbing his thumb against my lip.
“Perfection,” he says and wraps the strip of black silk around my head to blindfold me.
The world plunges into darkness, and I focus on the sound of the blood in his veins, the beat of his heart. Every breath he takes.
It’s weird, breathing as a vampire. I’m addicted to it, the heightened senses, the rush it brings.
I stand, blind now, at his mercy, as he begins to wrap the rope around me. It’s sensual, the way his fingers glide with the rope, the soft touch of him and the tight bind and bite of every knot he ties. He moves down, my hands tied now, but left with limited movement.
I’m dripping, hot for him, and he slides the rope between my legs and knots it so that there’s a sweet, hard pressure against my clit and a knot pushing my pussy lips apart, like a cock is poised to enter me.
And then he moves me back, easing me down on his sofa. He spreads my thighs, then ties my ankles together. He hooks them on something, and next he pulls my hands above my head and hooks those over something else.
In my mind, I’m there, basically on a platter, naked, vulnerable, spread open for him.
And then…he stops touching me.
“Lucian?” I call out.
“No talking, Monty, unless I ask you a direct question. I’ve got a busy day, lots of meetings. On the phone and in person. And you…you are going to be a fucking hot vase of flowers to brighten the room.”
