Chapter 25 Elowyn
ELOWYN
The air in the studio shifts as soon as he opens the door.
Heavy anticipation snaps into desire. Insecurity transforms into lust.
The blood in my veins is molten, burning me from within.
My heart remembers how to beat, reaching for the man it loves.
My Duncan.
“Hello.” His low voice sends shivers down my spine.
“Hi,” I reply, my own voice breathy.
It’s a miracle I can say anything at all.
The way his eyes bore into me, it’s as if nothing else exists.
This kind of focus is deeper, far more intense than when he’s hard at work.
Sex and depravity roll off his gaze. Dominance too.
He isn’t just looking, he’s seeing through me.
I’m just as obsessed.
My own eyes turn greedy, raking over the suit stretched across his impressive body. Heat pools between my legs when he folds his arms over his chest. I can hardly breathe when his biceps bulge.
It’s as if being hung on his frame has amped up my most basic needs, and now all I can do is want. Crave. Desire.
I’ve always loved Duncan. Ever since I can remember.
This, though, this isn’t love.
What grips my heart—my entire being—is fixation. I need him on a visceral level.
Except I can’t do anything about the distance between us. Can’t touch Duncan unless he allows it.
I’m trapped.
Bound.
His.
Without another word, he turns to close the door behind him. He crosses the room at an unhurried pace, moving to the corner directly behind me.
I follow him with my gaze, studying his profile, the sharp line of his jaw.
“Duncan?” It’s a plea rather than a call. I’m going crazy without him.
“Right here.” He pulls a pair of scissors out of a drawer in his dresser.
The blades glimmer faintly when he holds them up.
I should be alarmed by this. Should freak out, considering how calculating and dangerous he looks, the scissors glinting in his large hand.
I’m neither this nor that.
My trust in him is so absolute that instead of fearing him, I’m wet and aching between my legs. My breasts are swollen, sensitive enough that the brush of fabric against them feels like friction.
The frame rattles. It takes a second to register that I’m the one shaking it.
“Patience.” Duncan comes close, close, closer until his shadow looms over me.
He can’t be more than five inches taller than I am now, when I’m framed like this, but he feels enormous.
I stare up at him from beneath my lashes, saying nothing. Submitting to him.
Twisted amusement glimmers in his eyes. I think he gets off on this, on me, letting him set the pace.
Which I do, willingly. He was right earlier. I’m exhausted from carrying everything and everyone. I want him as my lover and my savior.
As the man who accepts the power I offer and lifts this weight from my shoulders.
He already proved he could do that when he dealt with my brother and came back unscathed.
Now, he’s going to care for my body.
“You’ve been so good.” He caresses my cheek with the scissors, the sharp tip of the blades cold yet not intimidating. Not when Duncan wields it. “Waiting for me to come home inside the frame.”
Strange warmth curls in my lungs. As if they’re soaking up the praise. “Thank you.”
“Before we begin.” Leaning closer, he brushes his lips over mine, soft and distracting.
So distracting that I don’t see the blade, only feel it when he starts cutting my shirt. The fabric parts, the cool line of the blades tracing my collarbone, then lower, down the center of me.
“Little moon.” He’s not done, and yet he pauses, brows pulled together. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
The question jars me with how intimate and incredibly thoughtful it is.
Especially in a moment like this, when he’s hard. I saw his erection straining his pants when he stepped inside the studio. But his control and love override the release he must crave.
“No.” I shudder when he cuts through another inch of my shirt.
“Hungry?” His face fills my entire view, his eyes intense and nearly black now.
I shake my head, a slight movement that he catches.
“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 final snap, 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.
It’s a ruse. A part of his dirty games, of him worshipping me in ways that aren’t sweet and soft.
He shifts my panties to the side, dragging two fingers from my pussy to rub my arousal over my clit. When that throbbing part of me is wet, Duncan presses the heel of his hand there, shoving two thick fingers into my sex.
“Oh God,” I breathe, my eyes wide as he finger-fucks me.
“You, Elowyn, have my heart on a leash.” Once he finds that spot, he grazes it with his fingertips. Pleasure strikes me, and I have to lock my teeth to keep from screaming. “Your scent, your skin, how fucking sweet you are. The things I want to do to you…”
The threat he delivers sends me right over the edge.
My pussy spasms around his fingers, but he’s relentless. He forces another orgasm out of me, his fingers curling deep, his lips and tongue making love to my throat.
I’m cursing. I’m crying. I’m praying for Duncan.
With his kisses, he tells me the words he couldn’t for over a decade.
I love you.
I’ll protect you.
You and me, it’s forever.
I swear. I swear. I swear.
As soon as he wrings out the last of my climax, he steps away. My knees buckle from the abruptness of it. If not for the ropes, I would’ve collapsed to the floor in a pile of flesh and bones.
“I need you,” I whisper. I beg. “I’m so empty it hurts.”
His broody, sexy silence settles around us as he goes to work on my jeans and panties. The scissor blades are cold against my skin as he snaps my clothes without ever cutting me.
One leg. The other.
And then I’m naked.
When Duncan rises to his full height, I’m not just being watched or seen anymore.
Those eyes sweep over me once, slowly, like he’s cataloging every breath I take.
Every twitch.
Every place he plans to touch.
I don’t dare speak, refusing to break the spell.
“Fuck.” He clenches his hand into a fist. Bites his knuckles. Curses. “Look at you. You know you’re my undoing, don’t you? Naked and dripping down your thighs. I’m tempted, but…”
My gaze follows him on his way back to his desk. “But what?”
“But, little moon.” He returns, sliding over a tray with him.
There’s a Mason jar there, filled with transparent liquid. Next to the jar, I spot gold leaves.
“Eyes on me.” Duncan hooks his finger under my chin, tipping my face up. “Always.”
“But?”
These binds, they stop me from raking my hands through his hair. I can’t reach very far.
My frustration is as heavy as my desire. “But what, Duncan?”
“But I can wait. I’m not weak,” he finishes his sentence, delivering it like a vow.
With my heart in my throat, I whisper, “You aren’t. You never were.”