Chapter Thirty-Four Hope
SUTTON
The next few days slip by, and suddenly, it’s the night before my presentation. Everything is ready. My presentation is perfect and I know it back to front. Every detail has been accounted for.
Yet, I’m still restless, anxiety thrumming through me, making it impossible to sit still.
I pace the length of the penthouse’s balcony.
Even the gorgeous view of the twinkling city lights and the cool, fresh breeze can’t distract me from my racing thoughts as I ponder everything that could possibly go wrong tomorrow.
What if I’ve overestimated the appeal of my plan? What if my schematics are wrong and my credibility is entirely undercut? What if Romero regrets giving me this chance?
God, I hate this. I’ve been so confident until now. So sure of myself and my ability to do this. I kept trying to convince myself I could speak in front of a crowd and not panic, but now I can’t stop thinking about all those eyes on me… judging me. Waiting for me to fail.
I can’t let my parents down. I can’t let myself down.
But I’m going to, aren’t I? Fuck, I’m going to fail. I can’t do this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t!
Why did I think I could just get over my fear? This is why Dad has never believed I could run the company, and why Mom worries about me so much.
My heart is beating so hard, it’s making my chest hurt and I’m struggling to take a full breath. Maybe coming out onto the balcony wasn’t such a good idea, because looking out over the city is starting to make me a little dizzy…
The sliding glass door to the balcony suddenly slides open and Jayce steps out. His expression is calm, but his gaze is penetrating as ever. Without a word, he walks toward me and grabs my hand, pulling it away from my mouth where I had been biting on my nails without notice.
“What…?”
Before I can finish, he turns and leads me back inside, and then down the hall. I know immediately where he’s taking me, so I release a relieved sigh and follow him, knowing this is exactly what I need.
When we reach the playroom, we cross to the bed and he turns to face me.
“Undress,” he orders softly.
The low rumble of his voice washes over me, acting like a balm on my nerves.
Releasing a long breath, I slowly pull my t-shirt off and let it drop to the floor.
Jayce watches me with an intense focus as I strip out of my leggings.
When I’m dressed only in my bra and panties, I hold his gaze as I remove each remaining piece of clothing.
We’ve been here many times before, but it’s only now that I realize how comfortable I am standing completely naked in front of him like this.
I don’t feel any embarrassment or bashfulness.
Instead, I feel safe. Comfortable. At ease in my own skin, and I know that’s because it’s Jayce I’m with, and no one else.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, dragging his eyes over me. “Kneel on the bed, hands on your thighs, and wait for me.”
I quickly obey, climbing into the middle of the bed and positioning myself as instructed.
Breathing steadily, I watch him move to the hidden cabinet, and once it’s open, he carefully chooses several lengths of rope.
The sight of his hands caressing the rope as he selects it has my heart hammering and my blood heating.
Turning to me, he prowls closer to the bed.
He reaches out to me, running the rope against my arms, making me shiver.
It’s soft and smooth, but strong and grips my skin just enough that I don’t have to worry about it slipping or the knots coming undone.
My chest is tight, my thoughts scattered, but I’m locked into him right now and every move he makes.
“Look at me.”
I meet his eyes, and the chaos in my head starts to grow quiet.
“What’s your safeword?”
“Pirouette,” I answer.
“Good girl. As I’m tying you up, I want you to focus on your breathing,” he explains. “Nothing else but taking air in and out. Understand.”
I nod. “Yes, Sir.”
He starts at my wrists, wrapping the rope flat and smooth, never twisting, never pulling too tight. He checks the space with his fingers and presses lightly against my pulse.
“Still good?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He forms the first knot slowly, deliberately. A clean wrap, then a square knot that sits snug and secure without biting. The pressure is even, and deliciously grounding. My shoulders ease a fraction.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs.
I lift my gaze to him. I hadn’t even realized I’d looked down to watch him work.
He works down my arms next. He moves the rope around my forearms, and back toward my elbows, creating a gentle tension. The next knot is a decorative but functional diamond that locks the lines in place.
“Breathe with me. In.”
I inhale as he tightens the rope.
“Out.”
The next knot sits between my shoulder blades, anchoring everything together. He uses his fingers to guide the rope into position before tightening. He never yanks or startles me. Each slight adjustment registers in my body, pulling me further out of my panic spiral and back into reality.
My pulse slows. Next, he ties a lark’s head around the central line, then finishes it with another square knot, pressing his thumb against it to make sure it won’t slip.
“Good,” he nods, clearly pleased with his work.
The rope crosses my torso next, and he weaves a harness around me inch by inch.
He checks symmetry, smooths the fabric where it lies against my skin, reties a knot when it’s not quite right.
I can tell he’s totally present in this moment.
Completely focused on me and what he’s doing, and that knowledge settles something deep in my chest.
My breathing evens out as he finishes the last knot, a clean, compact stopper that holds everything in balance. He doesn’t move away right away. Instead, he cups my face, thumbs brushing beneath my eyes.
“Where are you?” he asks gently.
“Here,” I whisper. “With you.”
“That’s right.”
Cupping my face in both his hands, he leans down and presses his lips to mine in a tender kiss that makes me whimper. I kiss him back, melting into his touch, relaxing as the ropes hold me secure.
He runs his hands down to my shoulders, then my breasts. He cups them, massaging them and flicking his thumbs over my nipples as his tongue gently invades my mouth.
Pleasure unfurls inside me, heating me from the inside out. I’m getting so wet, I can feel it running along my thighs.
“Jayce,” I gasp. “Please…”
“What do you need, baby?” he asks, brushing his thumb along my bottom lip. “Tell me.”
I let out a long, shaky breath. “I need you to touch my…touch my pussy.”
His lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Are you wet and aching for me?”
“Yes,” I nod. “I am.”
He slowly drags his hand down past my belly and then between my legs. When his fingers reach my folds, I let out a small cry as the pleasure inside me intensifies instantly.
“Oh, you are wet,” he growls. “You’re soaking.”
He strokes my pussy with a firm touch, circles my throat with his other hand, then runs his lips along my jaw.
He doesn’t rush or move to ravage me. He’s slow and careful.
Even as I’m pulled under a wave of delight and sensation, I can tell that this is different from the other times we’ve slept together.
The way he’s touching me is much more tender. Almost…reverent.
Between the hot trail of kisses on my throat and his hand between my legs, I’m overwhelmed with stimulation.
I can feel my orgasm building up deep in my belly.
Jayce slips a finger inside me and presses his thumb to my clit and I moan.
I grind into his hand, needing to relieve the pressure building up inside me.
He kisses my lips again and growls, “Come for me, Starling.”
At his command, I come undone, shuddering as sweet release shakes me to my bones.
It’s not enough, though. I need more. I need him. I need to feel him deep inside me, our bodies moving together as he helps me chase my pleasure.
As if he can read my mind, Jayce moves his hand from between my legs and then adjusts me so I’m lying on my side. He strips until he’s naked with me, then climbs onto the bed between my legs.
Grabbing my ankle, he raises it and rests it on his shoulder, spreading me wide open to him. He presses himself slowly into me. I let out a groan of relief as he stretches me and fills me just the way I need him to.
“Oh, God…” The words come out as a sob and Jayce starts to move.
His pace remains slow and languid. He’s taking his time. Making this last. He leans over me, covering my body with his so that we’re completely entwined in each other.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers in my ear. “So perfect. I love being inside you. Holding you like this. You’re so perfect, Sutton.”
His words bring tears to my eyes and I’m suddenly desperate to hold him.
“Jayce, untie me,” I beg in a breathless tone. “I need to touch you.”
Without a word, he undoes the rest of the knots. As the ropes fall away, I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him while he drives into me, his hips finding a grinding rhythm that drives me wild.
I feel a connection with Jayce I’ve never felt before. Like we were made for this…for each other.
This isn’t just sex. Isn’t fucking. This is something deeper. More profound.
This is what it’s like to make love. I’d never say so out loud, but there’s no other way to explain the intensity of the emotions rushing through me.
As we move together, time seems to melt away. The world narrows down until it’s just the two of us, holding each other, linked together as one.
My orgasm builds slowly, but when it hits, it makes me see stars.
Jayce comes moments later, his face buried against my shoulder as he releases a long, guttural groan.
We lay together for several long moments, just soaking in the aftermath of our release.
He slowly undoes my ropes and massages me before we get back into bed together.
The steady beat of his heart is so soothing, I relax into the mattress, my mind quiet and content.
Jayce grabs a blanket and pulls it over us, tucking me into his chest.
Yet, there’s a part of me that can’t figure out how to put words to what just happened between us. It was more than I ever expected from him, and it feels like there’s more possibility between us.
A dangerous hope enters my peaceful mind as I lay beneath the comforting weight and warmth of his body… that if I were to confess my feelings to him, he might actually return them.