Page 9 of His Bound Bedmate

I felt his attention go immediately to my face, but I couldn’t see anything. As soon as I felt that sweet, intense pinching on my sensitive nipple, my head fell backwards and I groaned. I almost lost my grip on the cuffs above my head when my knees gave out, but I forced myself upright once more.

When I managed to drag myself back to the present, to wonder why he’d only clamped one nipple, it was to find him staring at me, breathing heavily.

“Red?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Green, green—both of them.”

He cleared his throat. “Ye look as if ye need some help.”

“Yes.” I smiled as sweetly as I could manage. “Do you think you could actually strap me into these cuffs? I’m afraid I’ll fall over when you bring me to ecstasy.”

The next thing I knew, he was standing beside me on the small dais, tossing my shirtwaist and corset to the floor, then lifting my arms above my head.

He strapped the cuffs around first one wrist, then the other, and I clenched the chains tightly, sure now I wasn’t going to lose my footing.

“Being bound like this is different from the clamps. It’s no’ something ye can experiment with on your own.” His voice was low and gravelly. “This is about giving complete control to yer partner. It’s incredibly freeing.”

“Have you done it before?” Would he maybe—possibly?—consider giving up control to me someday?

He slowly nodded, as if answering both my questions, asked and unasked. I whimpered.

Without breaking eye contact—God that was erotic!—he dragged his palms down my arms and across my back. It felt so good—almost like he was embracing me.

I sucked in my breath and stared at his lips.

“Yellow?” he whispered.

I shook my head again. “Green.”

His hands moved around to my front and cupped my breasts. I knew they were smaller than most, but the attention he paid them made me feel like one of the women illustrated in A Harlot’s Guide. He made me feel like a goddess! He pinched and squeezed my right one, while he leaned over to blow cool air across the one still clamped.

Thank God for the cuff, or I would’ve fallen over when my knees gave out on me without warning.

“What do ye want next, Millicent?” His voice had that low timber that went right to my core and made me quiver with need.

“I want…” I squirmed which caused the clamps to tug on my nipple, and the sensation made me gasp. “I want to see ye.” Even though I couldn’t touch him, it wasn’t fair I was shirtless and he wasn’t.

With that fair curling of his lips, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it aside. He wore no tie or waistcoat, but popped his braces off his shoulder and reached for the waistline of his trousers.

After untucking his shirt, he began to unbutton it. I licked my lips and watched like a hawk, but he didn’t make any ceremony of it. When it was unbuttoned, he merely pulled it off and threw it over the chair where he’d been sitting earlier, with the rest of our clothing.

I stared. God, he’s gorgeous. He was just as trim and lithe without a shirt as he was fully dressed, but now I could see the expanse of those perfectly chiseled muscles, rather than merely imagining them…and for the first time, I regretted being tied. My fingers itched to touch him, and I found myself straining against the cuffs.

But when he stepped back toward me and picked up the other end of the chain dangling from my tit, I became distracted again. When he tugged slightly, I began to melt. What is he—?

He hooked the other clamp to his own nipple.

A faint hiss of air between his teeth, then he met my eyes again, and I saw there in his normally stoic expression how aroused he was. I moaned and leaned towards him. We were connected now, linked by the silver chain which ran between our nipples, by the pleasure and the pain and the trust we’d shown.

“Findlay,” I managed to groan.

“What is it, Millicent? What do ye need?” he asked gently, in such an erotic tone my wrists strained once again at my cuffs.

“You.” I met his eyes. “You, please. Fook me.”

“Nae,” he whispered, his palm going to my cheek. I didn’t have time to feel devastated before he followed it up with, “No’ until our wedding night.”

Our wedding night?

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