Page 94 of His Tesoro

He cupped my cheeks and then slowly ran his hands across my collarbone, my arms, and then back up, tracing a pattern up and down my torso. I breathed in sharply when he cupped my breasts, but he kept his touch frustratingly light. I tried arching into his touch, and the smirk tugging on his lips told me he knew exactly what I was doing.

“Is someone feeling needy?” His lips brushed against my ear and a shiver went through me.

His hands continued their path down my body, squeezing my hips and thighs. He teased the bottom of the dress, pushing it up my legs before taking it off completely. I inhaled sharply. He’d barely done anything yet and my skin was already on fire.

He lifted my leg and pressed his lips to my ankle. The feel of his fingers, lips, and breath against my skin built the heat in my core, especially as he worked his way up my leg. But when he got to my pussy, all he did was press a feather-light kiss to my clit through my lace underwear before kissing his way up my other leg.

“Matteo,” I whined when he returned to my sex, this time just breathing on it. “I need more.”

He chuckled darkly as he sat up. “You’ll take exactly what I give you, tesoro.” His skin was all heat against mine as he stripped off my bra and took my nipple into his mouth, leaving me squirming.

When he moved off the bed, I let out an indignant noise and reached for him.

“So needy,” he responded with a chuckle.

He disappeared into the closet and emerged with a black bag. He pulled out a length of rope before getting back on the bed and arranging me into a seated position. He sat behind me, his chest pressed tight against my back, supporting me and making me feel cherished and protected. Then the length of rope was in his hands, trailing across my skin.

“How does that feel?” His words vibrated against my neck.

“Good,” I said. The rope was firm and textured, but not too rough.

He hummed as he started wrapping the rope around my chest. He lifted my breasts, squeezing each in his large hands before running the rope underneath them. His hand collared my throat, and I shuddered. “You’re doing so well for me.” When he removed his hand, I looked down at the diamond rope pattern on my chest. Its hold on me was firm, like an extension of Matteo’s touch. “How does it feel?”

I turned my head and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Good.”

He returned my kiss with a hard one of his own before moving out from behind me and lowering me to the bed. The movement caused the rope to shift against my skin, the friction of it contrasting with the softness of the mattress. Then he moved my arm out to the side and closed a wide padded cuff around my wrist. I met his gaze, eyes wide.

“I’m not going to bind your arms tight, just enough for you to feel it.”

“Feel what?” I whispered.

“Feel my control over you.”

He tied a length of rope to the wrist cuff and then attached it to the side of the bed frame before repeating it on the other side. I pulled against the rope, a flicker of panic running through me when I realized I couldn’t move, couldn’t get up. His hands were heavy on my stomach as he observed me, patient as I adjusted to all the sensations.

His touch grounded me. I took a deep breath and my muscles relaxed.

“So good,” he murmured against my skin. “So brave, so beautiful.”

His words filled that hurt place inside me that never felt like enough, healing the raw edges of the wound I’d carried for so long. I didn’t fully believe that I was brave or beautiful, at least not yet, but I would never tire of hearing him say it.

49

MATTEO

My little wife was rope drunk, her mind going to that sweet space where she could let go completely. Her body was relaxed, yielding perfectly to her bondage.

I leaned forward and pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, nose, and lips. I was rewarded by a little whimper. The sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

My hand ran down her chest, checking that the rope wasn’t cutting off circulation before I grabbed another length. “I’m going to tie your legs, baby.”

It had been a while since I’d done rope—at least, with an intimate partner. I used my skills frequently to torture my enemies.

But nothing could have prepared me for the intensity of tying Sofiya.

I’d researched how to modify rope for Ehlers-Danlos, even talking to one of the riggers at the club who had experience with EDS. Sofiya’s EDS meant that she was extra flexible, but I would need to be careful not to push her body into positions that would put a strain on her muscles or risk dislocation or inflammation of the joints. Her skin might also mark more easily—there had been some bruising when I spanked her—so I used soft leather cuffs for her wrists. The last tie I wanted to do was a mermaid tie on her thighs, which would hold her legs together.

I stayed focused on what I was doing, even though my cock was rock hard and pressing painfully against my pants. Sofiya looked like a fucking goddess in her chest harness, and I kept checking her for any signs of distress. My heart was pounding, both from my excitement and arousal, but also the edge of anxiety I carried—the fear of doing something wrong and hurting her.

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