Page 10 of His Bound Bedmate

So he was marrying— What?

There was too much pleasure slamming around in my mind to process what he was saying—I felt woozy and languid and excited all at once. All it was going to take was one little push and I would fall over the edge.

My first warning was the swish of my petticoats against my calves, and I realized he was hiking up my skirts.

“Red?” he growled as his hands slid up my thighs and reached the waist of my bloomers.

“Green,” I gasped, dropping my head back. “Green, please.”

Maybe he chuckled as he pushed my bloomers down to my knees, but I couldn’t be sure. The next thing I felt was his hand on my core, and the sensation sent me upright again. My gaze slammed into his as he slid a finger along my weeping cleft.

“Mmmmm.” He made a noise low in his throat as he stroked me. “I knew ye’d be ready for me.” When he withdrew his fingers and held them up between us, he inhaled. “Ye’ve been dripping wet for me for a while, have ye no’?”

I nodded, my eyes locked on his, trying to explain the feelings I’d had for him for ages…

Days…

Weeks…

Almost two years…

The trouble was, figuring it out was rather irrelevant at this juncture. What with the cuffs and nipple clamps and being half naked and all.

“Good lass,” he whispered, and my knees went weak again, right before he pushed two fingers into me.

I whimpered and tried to lower myself on his hand. It’s not enough! I wanted to yell. Give me your cock! That was when he flicked his thumb across my clitoris and a jolt of pleasure shot through me. A third finger joined the other two, and even though I knew it wasn’t nearly as good as his cock in me, it felt divine.

Especially when he pressed against my clitoris with the heel of his palm, and began to rub.

I jerked against the cuffs and chains, my eyes widening. How’d he know? How’d he know that pressure was exactly what I needed to find pleasure? I felt the orgasm building behind my clitoris, and I alternated between pressing forward against him, and dropping down so I was impaled on his hand.

God, this felt so good!

“Your cock,” I managed to gasp.

“Will stay right where it is, Millicent,” he said calmly, still finger-fooking me. “This is all about control, remember? And as badly as I want to whip my cock out and shove it inside your hot, wet, remarkably tight little pussy, it’s going to stay buttoned inside my trousers.” He thrust his fingers into me again, his palm rough against my core. “It’s going to make our wedding night that much better.”

I could barely concentrate. Could barely see. “You want to—to marry me?”

“Aye,” he said simply. “Ye ken my preferences and my requirements. Ye’re my ideal mate. I just needed to see if ye could trust me enough to give up control this way.”

I sagged against the chains holding me to the ceiling, beyond grateful for them. The way he was making me feel—the way he was making me act!—I wouldn’t have been upright without them. He continued to thrust into me, the pressure and pleasure building with each movement.

“Well…” I gasped in time to his thrusts. “Far be it…for me…to go…against a…prince’s orders.”

He smiled again, then stepped close enough that our bare chests touched. His left hand cupped my tit, and our clamped nipples brushed against one another. His fingers in my cunny stroked and cupped and pressed and flicked until the sensations nearly overwhelmed me. I felt them building up, felt them ready to explode…

And then he kissed me.

When his lips touched mine, my orgasm began. I bucked against his hand and the cuffs, but his left hand wrapped around my middle and pressed me against his bare chest. The chain in between us, his fingers in my pussy, his lips on my skin…they were too much.

Too much, all together, that I came apart.

I rode that wave of orgasm forever, bucking against him and his hand. He’d done that to me. For me. He’d shown me how incredible it could be to trust someone, to give up all control.

If I hadn’t been in love with him before, I was now.

As I slowly came back down to earth, I could feel his eyes on me. I opened mine to find him staring at me hungrily. His cock was still a bulge in his trousers, pressing against my hip, but I just smiled languidly. I knew he wasn’t going to take it out, not yet. And truthfully, I loved the idea of making us wait, of building the anticipation. I wondered what other tools and devices we could use in the meantime…

---