“Sure about that?” Duncan raises an eyebrow.
“I’ll never lie to you,” I say, and mean it. Today, tomorrow, forever.
That satisfied sound he makes in the back of his throat pulls a shiver straight through me. Every inch of my body, from my toes to the back of my neck, is strung out. At attention.
“That’s right. You won’t.” His lips press to my jawline. His scissors cut more and more of my shirt. “Neither will I. No lies, no omitting truths, complete transparency.”
“Yes.” My breath hitches as his knuckles graze my stomach. I’m gripping the ropes as tight as I can. “I promise.”
“Good girl,” he hums. A finalsnap, and my shirt is ripped down the middle. “About your brother. I took care of him. Beat it into him that you’re done being his sister. You belong to me. Someone who can truly appreciate you. Someone to worship you.”
Warm air kisses my tummy, my chest. My nipples, too, once Duncan exposes them.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
A fleeting smile flashes across his face. Then he shoves the scissors into the back pocket of his pants. As if unable to help himself, he leans in, his lips hovering over one of my breasts.
“Now that you know,” he murmurs. “Time to play.”
The instant he takes my nipple in his mouth, my body freezes. Anticipation coils through my muscles. The world goes still as I wait for his next move.
For—fuck. For this. His teeth are sinking in. Hard. Unforgiving. Mind-blowing.
A broken cry tears out of me, but I don’t pull away.
Raw with need, I arch my back. My scream dies out, leaving me chanting his name like a prayer.
“I’ve never seen such haunting”—bite, suck—“perfect”—he hooks his arm around my back, thrusting me against his hips—“artwork, preserved by time, not ruined by it. Christ, you make me lose my mind.”
“Yes,” I whimper, then gasp when his teeth find my breast again, hard enough to bruise. I relish it. His approval, as rough as it is, makes me wetter than I’ve ever been. “More. More, please.”
Instead of giving it to me, he pulls back.
I barely manage to whisper, “Come back,” and he’s there, taking my other breast in his mouth. Paying brutal attention to my body, leaving his marks. A show of his ownership.
I’m a mess. A mindless, helpless woman who never belonged anywhere. Until him. Until this life-changing moment.
Our chests heave when he breaks contact.
“I’m going to take my time with you.” His lips are glistening and swollen. I want them on my mouth. Between my thighs. Everywhere. “I didn’t leave you in a frame just to rail that tight little pussy like you mean nothing.”
“Okay,” I say, giving him a dirty look that’ll only ever be meant for him.
Duncan’s jaw clenches. “Bad girl.”
Then the scissors are back out, slicing through my sleeves. The soft brush of the fabric as it cascades to the floor coaxes surprised moans out of me, sounds that Duncan ignores.
He’s focused on my jeans now, his deft fingers undoing my button, my zipper.
“What’s this?” His middle finger strokes me over my underwear. “Your panties are soaked. I remember helping you into a clean pair this morning.”
I remember it too. Vividly. Duncan, on his knees, wiping me clean after we had sex and before dressing me up.
More heat pools between my thighs from the memory alone.
“They were. But you…” I squirm at the too-gentle touch. “I’m wet for you.”
“I see,” he clips, pretending not to care.
