Page 14 of His Bound Bedmate

He was so damned erotic, I didn’t think I could stand it.

I was the one who pulled away, who reached for his trousers. I pulled them down, along with his undergarments, in the same motion. I was going to make a quip about him being allowed to wear underwear to our wedding, but my words totally disappeared when I saw his cock spring free.

It was long and straight, nestled in a bed of dark hair, and I shivered. “Well,” I managed to whisper, “there goes this dress.”

“What?” He sounded as if he was choking.

I couldn’t take my eyes off his cock. “I’m sure the silk is ruined by now, from my juices soaking it.”

He groaned, I grinned, and I knew I was going to taste him.

I sank to my knees, my hands tracing his abdominal muscles and that sexy “V” leading down to his cock. For a moment, I just stared, allowing my hands to fondle everything from his thighs to his ballocks to the sensitive spot inside his knees. And I listened to his breathing, harsh and fast.

I peeked up at him. “This is The Supplicant Swan. Page twelve of A Harlot’s Guide.”

His gaze was intense, harsh. Not commanding, not longing…but he watched me as if trying to memorize every breath I took, every motion I made.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wrapped my lips around the end of his cock and loved the way he groaned.

“Millicent, nay,” he whispered harshly.

But I ignored him. I was in control now. I couldn’t get all of him into my mouth, but I was excited to have the opportunity to try. Not tonight, but there would be plenty of other nights to practice and practice until I could fit his whole cock down my throat…

“Millicent,” he groaned.

I could feel his ballocks throbbing under my fingers, and I grinned against his cock as I licked and nipped. He was so close to coming, and I was doing that to him. I wanted him to come, I wanted to taste him…but I also wanted to feel him inside me. In fact, from where I knelt on the floor between his legs, I could feel the way my liquid need had coated the inside of my thighs.

Yes, I needed him.

“Millicent, for God’s sake!” he finally roared. “Red! Red!”

Recollecting the code, I sat back immediately and looked up. His chest was heaving, his eyes were closed tight, and he looked like he was fighting some inner battle.

“Findlay?”

“I am so goddamn close to coming, and I don’t want it to be like this. Not on our wedding night.”

I immediately got to my feet and unstrapped one of the cuffs that held his hands over out to the side. One day we’d use the legs of the cross too—one of us would be spread-eagle for the other’s enjoyment—but not tonight. When his first wrist was loose, he hurried to unstrap the second, then pulled me into his arms, his trousers still down around his ankles.

“Wife,” he said against my hair as he crushed me to him, “I’ve been wanting to be inside ye for too long to allow myself this kind of sweet torture. I want to fook you.”

I smiled against his skin. “And I want to be fooked by you, husband.”

Chapter 8

Findlay

Thank God.

I growled low in my throat and pressed her tighter against me, loving that I could feel every bit of her through that silk gown, knowing she could feel every bit of me. There was something so terrifyingly freeing about being completely nude at another’s mercy, and having her on her knees in front of me had been almost too much to bear.

But now…now I was going to fook her, just as I’d been dreaming about. And how I’d been dreaming about.

“Do ye trust me?”

She pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes. “Always.”

I nodded once and kicked off of the rest of my clothes. Taking her hand, I led her around the bed towards the other piece that dominated the room. “This is a version of a stock and pillory,” I explained, watching her run her hands gently over the dark wood. “It’s meant to restrain a person’s thighs and neck in an upright position, allowing access to their ass and mouth.”

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