He did the same with my left wrist, the movements efficient and methodical. When he was done, my arms were stretched above my head, bound to the bedframe. I tested the bonds, pulling gently. There was no give.
A shiver ran through me, a mix of fear and a thrilling, dizzying anticipation. I was completely at his mercy.
He stood for a moment, simply looking at me, a dark satisfaction in his gaze.
Then he moved to the foot of the bed.
His hands closed around my right ankle. His grip was strong, warm, and inescapable. First, he removed my boot and my sock, then took off my pants and panties, baring my leg completely. Then he lifted my leg, bending it at the knee. My breath caught as he wrapped a third silk tie around my ankle. I watched, mesmerized, as he secured the knot, then stretched my leg wide, tying the other end to the post at the foot of the bed.
The position left me exposed, completely open. The cool air of the cabin brushed against the slick, sensitive skin of my inner thigh and I drew my free leg against my bound one to claim some ludicrous form of modesty.
He was having none of that. He grabbed my free ankle and dragged it over, then repeated the process of securing it to the bedpost.
I lay there, spread-eagled on the bed, tied to the bedposts, bare from the waist down and my cheeks flaming. Every muscle in my body was taut with an odd, humming tension. I was trapped, but I didn’t feel trapped. I felt… focused. Every sense was heightened. The faint hum of the engines, the scent of his cologne and my own arousal, the soft texture of the silk ties against my skin, the weight of his gaze on my half-naked body and the sound of our panting breaths.
He straightened up, a dark god silhouetted against the blue sky peeking in through the window. His eyes traveled the length of my body in a possessive sweep that made my skin feel tight and hot. He climbed up, reached out, and hooked a finger at the neck of my shirt.
“Now this,” he murmured, “has to go.”
With a single, quick tug, he ripped thethin fabricdown the front.
My shirtgave way with a sound like tearing paper, the cool air hitting my overheated skin.I wasn’t wearing a bra, so my nipples pebbled almost instantly.
I shivered, but not from cold.
I tested my bonds again, but there was still no give. I was well and truly pinned and exposed.
He didn’t touch me. Not at first.At least not with his hands.
He started with a knife. A wicked-looking thing, all black handle and silver blade, that he’d produced from somewhere on his person. He ran the flat of the cool steel down my sternum, andmy breath caught in the back of my throat. The blade was cold against my flushed skin, but I felt hot everywhere else.
He traced the curve of my breast, circling my areola without touching the peak. My nipples hardened even more to tight, aching points. He moved to the other side, mirroring the movement. I arched my back, silently pleading for more.
He laughed, the sound chillingly arousing. “Patience, princess.”
He continued his exploration, the tip of the blade tracing patterns on my skin, down my ribs, over the soft swell of my belly, dipping into my navel. I was trembling, and no matter what I did I couldn’t control it.
He paused, the blade resting just above my pubic bone. His gaze met mine, full of heat and lust.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said quietly. “All spread out and waiting for me. So vulnerable. And all mine.”
He leaned down, replacing the knife with his mouth. He pressed a soft, hot kiss to my hipbone. Then another, just below my navel. He was tracing the same path the knife had taken, but with his lips and tongue now. He kissed a slow, wet trail down my body, bypassing the place I needed him most, to nip gently at the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
I jerked in my bonds.
“Please, Andrei,” I begged. I didn’t care anymore about pride or defiance. I only cared about the gnawing, desperate ache building inside me.
He lifted his head, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Please what?”
“You know what,” I gasped.
“I want to hear you say it,” he said, his tone wicked. He blew a stream of cool air across the wet skin he’d just kissed, and I shuddered violently.
“Please,” I begged, pulling against the restraints, the silk digging into my wrists and ankles. “Please, make me come.”
A triumphant smirk touched his lips. He obliged.
He lowered his head, and his mouth found me.
