Page 59 of Bound

I reach for his belt. His hand catches mine. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not yet.”

“But I’m listening to my body like you want me to.”

“You chose the plug. You choose whether it stays. You choose your colors.” His hand moves again, and my protest turns into a broken sound. “I choose how long I make you wait.”

That is unfairly hot. Also annoying. Mostly hot. He lowers his mouth to my breast, and the pleasure sharpens. My hips arch, the plug pressing deeper, awareness blooming into need.

Lucian’s mouth. Lucian’s hand. Lucian’s voice telling me to breathe, to answer, to stay with him.

When I come, it drags through me, slow and deep, stealing the air from my lungs. I clutch him, shaking, my mouth open around his name. “Lucian.”

Lucian watches me through every second. He always watches. His forehead lowers to mine.

My body is still pulsing. The plug feels less foreign now. More like heat. Like a secret weight. His hand cups my cheek. Then he kisses me again, slower this time. Deeper. A kiss with teeth beneath it, but not enough to break skin.

When he pulls back, his eyes hold mine.

Dark. Ruined. Terrified.

“Tomorrow,” he says, “when you feel this, you remember me.”

Can’t. Breathe. “Lucian.”

“You remember this room. This choice. My hands on you. My voice telling you to stop if something feels wrong.” His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Then you remember that I love you too much for you to take risks.”

My chest tightens until it hurts. “I’m not planning on it.”

“You are reckless.”

“I prefer decisive.”

“You are impulsive.” His mouth curves. Then his face turns serious again. “If you want to do something impulsive that puts you in danger, feel this and think of me.”

The plug shifts inside me as if his words make my body aware of it all over again. He undresses. He lies over me, heat and protection. He stares at me as he enters me.

He goes slowly, filling me. The pressure changes, now as full inside my pussy as my ass. Strange, thrilling, everything tensing. He holds me closer, building his rhythm as he goes. The orgasm builds from within now, so powerful it’s almost terrifying.

The room goes blurry at the edges. I come undone, chaotically unraveling in his arms. He gathers me against him afterward, bare skin to muscle, my body still holding his reminder.

Outside, the Icelandic sea keeps trying to break the cliffs.

Inside, Lucian’s hand moves over my back.

Tomorrow, Carlos gets the queen he asked for.

But not the one he wrote.

CHAPTER NINE

Lucian

New York looks colder than Iceland from the windows of the jet. I swear to God, this is the longest winter I’ve ever endured. It began with a girl on my doorstep in a coat inadequate for the weather.

Then, she disappeared.