Chapter Sixteen #2
Judith wondered if she looked as confused as she felt. “What are you doing?”
“Do you trust me?”
Her eyebrows arched. “A little late for that question, do you not think?”
The smirk became a grin. “Depends.” He mounted the bed on his knees, holding the ascot and sash in front of him. “Do you trust me?”
Judith’s breath caught as his meaning seared through her, and she looked from his face to the fabrics in his hand, then his face again. Did she?
“Yes.”
Mark moved closer, placing the sash on the pillow next to her, then brushing her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears.
His gaze never left hers as he raised the ascot and placed it over her eyes.
Judith held her breath as he wrapped the fabric around her head, tying it on one side near her temple.
She could still see shadows and movement through the fine silk, but she closed her eyes, waiting for his next move, already intrigued—and aroused—by his actions.
And his words from the theater echoed again in her mind: I wish to own a part of you.
She shivered.
Mark kissed her forehead. “Are you cold?”
“No. I think it is the anticipation.”
He chuckled. “Good. Put your palms together.”
She did, and Judith felt the satin of the sash loop around her wrists, the bond tight but not uncomfortable.
“Lean back. Easy.” Mark braced an arm behind her shoulders, easing her back and slipping another pillow beneath her head and shoulders as they found the solid wood. He then lifted her hands above her head, apparently tying the sash to the acorn-shaped finial in the center of the headboard.
Judith shuddered again. The lack of sight, the confinement of her hands left her feeling exposed, uncertain.
In all of her affairs, she had taken the lead and controlled how the evening had proceeded, how and what had happened in her bed.
She swallowed hard, trying to stifle a tinge of fear—and an unexpected sense of arousal.
In her moment of anxiety, her legs shifted and stretched.
Mark made a low tsking sound. “Ah. We must do something about those.”
Judith was not sure she understood. “What do you—”
“Shh.”
She felt his face close to hers, the heat of his breath on her cheek.
“Try, dear one, to feel with your heart, your skin, your nipples, your cunt. Not your mind.” He kissed her again, tugging her lower lip between his teeth as one hand stroked across her shoulders, then down over one breast, which tightened with arousal, the nipple peaking as he toyed with them through her chemise.
She sighed, another wave of arousal sending warmth spreading over her.
His hands drifted down her body as he moved toward the foot of the bed, where he spread her legs, kneeling between them.
Something silken and cool circled her right ankle, then grew tight.
He pushed her leg closer to the edge of the bed, holding it down a moment.
But when he removed his hand, her foot stayed in place, tethered.
Judith fought a moment of panic as she realized he planned to immobilize her, and her left leg kicked involuntarily. “Mark!”
He caught her foot and lifted it to his face, kissing the ankle, the blowing a cool stream of air across the bottom of her foot, which both tickled and enticed. “I promise I will not hurt you. Do you believe me?”
Judith sorted through her racing, panicked thoughts, swallowing hard, finding a core of the truth she knew deep in her being. “I do.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
A logical, fearful part of her mind wanted to call a halt to this, to regain her sensibilities. A feral part felt the deep arousal his touches had brought to her, enjoyed the sensation of being at his mercy. Once again, his words sent a thrill through her senses. I wish to own a part of you.
Other words pushed out of the fog as well. Harridan. Wanton harlot.
Fifth choice.
“No.”
He kissed her ankle, nipping at the tender flesh above the bone, and Judith gasped.
He chuckled. “Ah. Teeth are such wonderful tools.” He pushed her leg even higher, his teeth scraping lightly against the inside of her knee, followed by a kiss. Then he secured her ankle with a similar silken bond as the other.
My stockings!
She felt the bed shift as he moved higher, his fingertip tracing gentle patterns up and down her calves and thighs, each stroke moving closer to her core. He paused only to push her chemise high on her chest, exposing her breasts as he tucked the fabric up under her shoulders.
“You have the most remarkable beauty.”
Judith chewed her lower lip.
“You do not believe me?”
“I find it hard—”
His hands closed around her breasts. “These,” he whispered.
“Perfection.” He kissed one nipple, then the other, pulling each into his mouth, sucking lightly at first, then his tongue pressed the tender bud against the roof of his mouth, rubbing it back and forth.
As he tugged on one with his teeth, he rolled the other between his fingers, the force growing tighter and harder, almost to the point of pain.
Pure ecstasy shot through Judith, from her breasts to her groin, and her body stiffened, arching against the bonds. Heat flushed her face, and she felt a growing wetness between her legs, an increasing need. She tried to writhe, but the ties held her tight.
One hand still on a breast, he kissed his way down her torso, lingering just above her mound, as the other hand patted the inside of her thigh.
“Your legs,” he muttered, his words hoarse.
“Glorious, a shape a queen would envy.” His hand left her breast as he shifted.
His fingers traced up one thigh, across her swollen cunt, and down the other thigh.
“Hips made for childbearing. And the luckiest of men.”
Judith’s breath came in gulps, her muscles tensing under his touch, her arousal building as moisture slipped from her. She whispered his name.
He kissed the top of her slit. “But this.” He licked from the top all the way to the bed. “Heaven.”
Judith cried out, a fiery need consuming her, her entire body struggling against the bonds.
He slid both hands under her buttocks, raising her, tilting her hips, blowing streams of cool air over her aching cunt.
“Damn you!” What had meant to be a cry, a curse, emerged as a harsh and barely audible beg.
His tongue found her then, separating her tender folds as a chef would carefully open a ripened fruit. He pulled one hand free and held them apart as his tongue worked the swollen flesh, pushing, teasing, withdrawing, until Judith found herself begging him in earnest.
“Please!”
A finger entered her, circling. Then two. Three. Thrusting and twisting, searching for the sweetest spot, as his mouth focused on the engorged bud at the top of her sex, sucking.
The shattering jolt of her climax raced through her, hot waves of ecstasy as she cried out, her body bucking, jerking hard against her ties.
He did not relent, continuing to lick, the thrusting of his fingers slowing inside her, until her body eased into the tiniest of spasms, her breath finally returning to its regular rhythm.
Then he eased his hand out of her and made unbelievably quick work of releasing her bonds, legs first, then a quick pull at the sash holding her hands that freed them both.
He pulled down her chemise, smoothing it over her stomach and legs.
Then he moved over her, his groin against hers, and braced himself on his elbows.
His cock had hardened again, and its pressure against her felt as warm as a comforting hug.
Judith pushed the cravat off her eyes to find Mark gazing down at her, his skin coated in a fine sheen of sweat, his eyes wide with adoration.
Silently, gradually, he lowered his weight against her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he buried his face into her neck. “You are remarkable,” he whispered.
Without reason, Judith sobbed with relief and joy, tightening her grip on him. Mark entwined his fingers in her hair, kissing the side of her face. He held her until she calmed and her breathing became even, then he murmured, “Are you all right?”
“I am”—she stopped, her throat raspy, and swallowed—“spectacularly all right.”
Mark raised his head to look at her, then let more of his weight rest on her body, pressing her into the mattress. “Is this too much?”
It was not. In fact, Judith relished the feel of his body against hers, the heaviness making her feel protected. Cocooned.
“It is not. I want all of it. All of you.”
With a slight smile, he straightened his arms, and his full weight rested on her. “Do not let me hurt you.”
She shook her head. “I like it. It makes me feel . . .” The word would not come.
“Claimed.”
I wish to own a part of you.
She kissed his cheek. “Are you claiming me? Am I one of your many?”
He shook his head, propping himself up again on his elbows, easing some of his weight off her. “I may have been with many women in the past, but I have only claimed one. You. My first choice.”