Chapter 12
SIMONE
Ican’t believe I just agreed to this. After everything I’ve been through?
After Az has kept me prisoner for months?
Why am I making myself so vulnerable with him?
The only answer I can find is that I am so tired of being a prisoner to my own memories.
I want to let go of the baggage that’s been weighing me down for years.
“You’re certain?” Az asks me, one eyebrow lifted in surprise.
“Yes,” I say, my voice blessedly coming through stronger than I feel. “How do we do this?”
“Well,” Az begins, extending his arm until he can caress my side. It’s the first time I’ve let him touch me like this, and it makes my heart pitter-patter in my chest. “Let’s start by taking your clothes off.”
“Oh,” I gasp. Why didn’t I think of that? That I’m going to have to be naked in front of him? “I don’t know if I can…”
Az scoots to the foot of the bed and takes my feet into his strong, beautiful hands.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his fingers pressing into my arches. I can’t help the moan that escapes my throat. His answering grin sends a pulse of lust between my legs. “Do you like this?”
I nod, my cheeks going hot. For some reason, it feels like he’s asking about more than just a simple foot massage. But I’m not sure he can do anything without it being mind-blowingly sensual.
“Good. Just enjoy it.”
Az moves his touch higher, massaging my calves, then my thighs. All the while, my breathing grows harsher, and I’m fighting not to press my thighs together and squirm.
“I think my little fairy likes this,” he teases, a soft smile curving his lips. His fingers hook into the waistband of my leggings. “Are you ready for this, Simone?”
After a shaky exhale, I nod. But that’s not enough for him.
“Say the word, little fairy.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I’m ready.”
“That’s a relief,” he drawls. “I’ve been dying to see your pretty pussy for an unimaginably long time.”
I bite my lower lip. “How do you know it’s pretty?” I ask, surprising myself with my boldness.
Az grins. “How can it be anything else when all of you is perfect?”
I’ve been called beautiful before, by countless men.
I’d been approached for modelling opportunities and ended up at castings where they demanded I take my clothes off.
Normally, compliments like his scare me, a bone-deep, visceral reaction.
But for some reason, his attention makes me glad I’m lying down. Az makes my knees weak.
With his gray-green eyes locked on mine, Az slowly tugs my leggings down, taking my silky panties with them.
Every inch of revealed skin makes it harder to breathe.
I can’t believe I’m letting a man see me like this again.
Especially this man, who has already proved his obsession and possession know no bounds, keeping me locked here.
Az’s eyes bore into me, his nostrils flaring as my most intimate parts are revealed.
“Fuck, little fairy,” he exclaims, voice harsh. “I’ve never wanted anything as bad as I want you.”
Oddly, I believe him. Something about the expression on his face makes me think he’s being honest. And that thrills a part of me I thought was long dead.
When I blink, he’s looming over me, and his eyes seem to be backlit by flames.
“Let’s take your top off,” he whispers. I can’t do anything but nod, lifting my arms to help him take the last piece of clothing away, leaving me naked and afraid. But it’s not the same kind of fear I’ve felt around men for most of my life. It’s different, though I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Everywhere he looks, I feel warmth. His gaze alone is like another form of physical touch. Then he runs his palms over my shoulders and arms, bringing the nerves there to life.
“I’m going to start binding you now. Are you ready?”
It takes a second for his words to penetrate the sensual haze in my mind. When they do, my heart skips a beat.
Last chance to back out, Simone.
“I’m ready,” I say instead.
Az gathers the ropes into his hands, the white silk whispering against itself, sounding much like the cave stream gliding over stone not far from us. The sound alone sends a shiver through me.
“Lie back,” he says softly.
I obey before I can think better of it, sinking into the mattress and the pile of cushions behind me. The bed dips when he kneels beside my legs.
“Let your knees fall open naturally,” he murmurs.
My heart pounds as I do it, thighs parting, heels drawing closer to my body. It feels incredibly vulnerable. Exposed. Air hits my damp pussy, making me feel embarrassed. Every instinct tells me to close myself off again, hide from his burning gaze.
Az notices the hesitation instantly, one warm palm settling lightly over my knee. “You’re exquisite, Simone. You’re doing so well.”
With a small gesture of his free hand, two pillows appear beneath my thighs, lifting and supporting them so the stretch eases at once.
My breath catches.
“There,” he says, sounding pleased. “Isn’t that better?”
He lifts one of my wrists and turns it over in his hand, studying the pulse fluttering there. His thumb brushes the inside of it once, the simplicity of the touch devastating.
“Hands above your head, little fairy.”
I raise my arms, and he lays them against the pillows, beginning to wind rope around one wrist.
I brace for roughness, the unkind touches my body is used to. Except it never comes. Not from him.
The silk settles snugly but gently against my skin, smooth and cool at first, warming almost instantly. He slips two fingers beneath the wrap, testing the tension.
“Too tight?”
I take a shuddering breath before answering him. “No.”
The knots he makes are deft and elegant, and he repeats the process with the other wrist. When he finishes, my hands are secured above me.
I tug experimentally, but the ropes don’t yield.
A pulse of panic rises sharp and sudden in my chest.
Az’s gaze snaps to my face. “Breathe.”
I do, dragging air into lungs that momentarily forgot their purpose.
“In through your nose,” he says calmly. “Out through your mouth. Good.”
He waits until my chest stops heaving.
“You can stop this whenever you wish.”
I swallow. “I know.”
His gaze goes molten. “Do you? Do you know the power you have over me right now?”
Something in the question unsettles me more than the ropes. I nod anyway.
Satisfied, he shifts lower, resting a hand against my calf.
“I’m going to secure your legs now.”
His fingers slide from my ankle to my knee, slow and reassuring, before guiding my knees a little wider. Only an inch. Then another.
The rope circles one thigh just above the knee, then the other. He threads lines between them, anchoring the shape so my legs remain parted without effort.
I test the position. My knees can move only a fraction before the rope reminds me otherwise. The realization sends heat rushing through me.
Az notices, his mouth curving dangerously.
“You like being held like this,” he purrs.
“No,” I say too quickly.
He chuckles. “Liar.”
I glare at him, which only deepens his amusement.
He moves to my ankles next, binding them loosely near my hips so my legs stay folded and open, the entire pose arranged with obscene care. I am not spread painfully wide, only undeniably displayed.
Then he pauses. He studies every line of rope, every angle of my body, then adjusts the pillow under my left thigh by half an inch. He runs his hands over the ropes where they cross my wrists, my thighs, my ankles, checking for slack, pressure, circulation. Every touch is practical.
Which somehow makes it worse. Is he aroused? Do I want him to be?
Merde… I do, don’t I?
When he’s done, I pull once more at my hands, then my legs.
Nothing.
I can’t close my knees. I can’t sit up properly. I can’t cover myself. I can’t move more than a few inches in any direction.
A tremor works through me.
Az rises to his full height beside the bed, looking down at what he has made of me.
Bound. Bare. Breathing hard.
“Comfortable?” he asks.
My voice comes out thin. “No. Yes.”
Something unreadable passes over his face.
He sits beside my hip and smooths a strand of hair from my cheek.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Then we may begin teaching your body the difference between captivity... and surrender.”