I kiss him back with matching intensity, pouring all my fear and longing into the connection between us. The chains bind my body, but his touch frees a part of me I thought was dead and buried.
“Better?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Getting there.” My voice is husky with need. “Though I'm still trapped in your chains.”
“Are you complaining?”
I test the restraints again, feeling the way they hold me in place while somehow making me feel more secure than I have in years. “Not exactly.”
His laugh is dark, satisfied. “Good. Because I have plans for you in those chains.”
“What kind of plans?”
Instead of answering with words, he drops to his knees in front of me. His hands find the waistband of my practice shorts, fingers hooking in the elastic.
“The kind that involve finding out how many times I can make you come.”
He pulls my shorts down slowly, reverent in his movements. When they pool at my feet, he looks up at me with eyes that burn blue fire.
“Step out,” he commands.
I comply, suddenly grateful for the chains holding me upright. My legs feel unsteady, liquid with want. He rises, hands skimming up my thighs, over the curve of my hips, along the path of the chains.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, taking in the sight of me bound and naked except for the metal harness. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”
“Silas—”
“Shh.” He guides me backward toward his magician's cabinet. “I've got you.”
The back of the cabinet is padded, and he positions me against it carefully, making sure the chains don't dig into my skin. My hands are still bound behind me, but the angle gives me support while leaving me completely open to his touch.
“Comfortable?” he asks, though his hands are already roaming, mapping every inch of exposed skin.
“Define comfortable.”
His grin is wicked. “Comfortable enough for what I'm about to do to you.”
He drops to his knees again, and this time there's no teasing, no buildup. His mouth finds me immediately, tongue parting my folds, lips sucking on tender skin.
The cry that tears from my throat echoes through the empty tent. My hips buck against his mouth, but the chains limit my movement, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
“That's it,” he murmurs against my flesh. “Let me hear you.”
He works me ruthlessly, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on my clit. The combination of bondage and pleasure creates a feedback loop that has me climbing toward release embarrassingly fast.
“Already?” He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. “We're just getting started, beautiful.”
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them to find my G-spot. His mouth returns to my clit, and the dual stimulation drives me to the edge in seconds.
“Silas, I'm going to?—”
“Come for me.” The words are muffled against my skin. “Come on my tongue, Nova. Let me taste you falling apart.”
The orgasm crashes over me with an intensity that steals my breath. I scream his name, the sound bouncing off the canvas walls as my body convulses around his fingers.
But he doesn't stop. If anything, my climax spurs him on, and he continues his assault with single-minded focus. The overstimulation borders on painful, but I don't want him to stop. Don't ever want this feeling to end.
“Again,” he demands, adding a third finger and increasing the pressure of his tongue. “Give me another one.”
