Page 116 of The Unplanned Wedding

My heart calms, and my pussy stutters like it’s been struck.Damn, I so hope he’ll do that. And I also don’t want him to.It’s a shock to my system when he spanks me in that tender spot and yet, the rush of sensations that followit turn me into a horny, mindless slave whose only desire is to gratify her master. He reaches the bed and lays me down. He stands near my feet, pulls off my low-heeled boots and socks, and drops them on the floor. Then, he sits down on the bed next to me and reaches for the zipper on my jeans. He pulls it down, and I raise my hips and allow him to slide them off my legs. Next, he reaches for a hand towel and dips it in a bowl of water I hadn’t noticed on the nightstand—it’s next to a wooden box I’m also seeing for the first time. So, this is what he was doing earlier when I heard him walking about the room? I don’t see our bags by the door anymore, so maybe, he did that, too.

He presses the wet towel to my knee. The slight throbbing there recedes, and I sigh. He does the same with my other knee. His head is bent, and he’s focused on what he’s doing. I have his complete attention, and a thrill courses through me. This is what I love. This is what I’ve wanted since I first met him. And now, I have him, and it’s incredible. All those years I bounced around from foster home to foster home and felt unwelcome. And the fact that I was given up for adoption meant there was a part of me that felt rejected. And now, having him so tuned into my needs fills that emptiness inside of me. It makes me feel loved, cherished, and so very needed.

He looks up to meet my eyes. "Does it hurt?"

I shake my head.

"Good girl." He drops the wet cloth on the bedside table, then places his big hand on my naked thigh. "You realize, I did it because I know how much it means to you to be punished. I know how important it is for you to explore this sexual intensity, this emotional connection you feel toward me. I know what it means to give yourself completely to me. You’re asking for the freedom to explore your own identity."

I swallow.

"To go places you cannot go yourself. To have experiences you cannot ask for. You’re depending on me, your master, to lead you into the place beyond any resistance you might encounter."

A soft moan spills from my lips. His words cut me to the core.How have I been seen this easily? How can he look at me and know what I want?It’s more intimate than the sex we’ve hand. More personal than even being married to him. This, him telling me what I want, is tender and erotic, and it’sunconditional. This is unconditional love. The liberty to reveal myself to him completely and not feel judged feels like I’ve been set free.

His support makes me feel safe enough to explore the depths of my own perversity. This is what I sensed when I first saw him in his office. As he helps me open up my body to him, my mind and heart follow. I’ve never been this vulnerable to anyone else… And yet, in that, there’s also a strength. A faith. A trust that my master recognizes what I want, and he’ll give it to me. When he decides the time is right.

The feelings course through my legs and my chest to coalesce in my lower belly. Every part of me feels like it’s waking up. My blood thrums in my veins. My pulse thuds at my ankles, my wrists, and in the hollow at the base of my throat. Emotions squeeze my chest and well up my throat. It’s so intense, a tear squeezes out from the corner of my eye. "Sir. Please, sir," I whisper.

His lips twitch, then he bends and kisses my forehead. So soft. So tender. I feel like I’ve been reborn and that he’s touching me for the first time.

"Move over to the center of the bed." He straightens, and I wriggle over toward the middle. "Show me your wrists."

I extend my arms as he’s asked.

He reaches down and pulls off his belt, and the sound of the leather against the fabric of his jeans sets off sensations across my nerve-endings. Then, he knots it around my wrists, testing it before he pulls my arms up and ties me to the headboard. He tugs on it and the pull sends a shiver down my spine. My toes curl. My thighs shiver. He hasn't even started, and I’m already so aroused. He slides off the bed, walks into the closet and returns with three scarves. He uses them to tie one of my ankles to the side of the bed, then the other, so I’m spreadeagled. Then he moves over to straddle my waist without putting any weight on me. "I’m going to blindfold you."

52

Knox

"B-blindfold?" Her gaze grows wide. There’s a lick of fear and of excitement in them.

"How do you feel about that?"

She casts her eyes down. "I feel…nervous, but also I want to explore how it feels."

"That’s very good, baby." I lean in and kiss her forehead. "Any time you want me to stop, you simply have to say so, and I will.

"Okay," she says in a soft voice.

"You ready to find out your limits?"

She nods, a firm jerk of her chin. There’s no hesitation in her expression, and that makes me so happy. A flutter ripples through my chest. This woman is beautiful and brave and trusts me so much. I will not let her down. I am going to ensure she has the most incredible experience of her life. "Close your eyes, baby."

Her eyelids flutter down. I wrap the scarf over them and tie it behind her head. I tug to make sure it’s not too tight, and she shivers. Theedginess that jumps off of her is laced with excitement. Because I can’t help myself, I press my lips to hers. Her mouth clings to mine, but before I’m tempted to deepen the kiss, I pull back.This is all about her.Onlyabout her. I want to cherish her, and love her, and make her feel incredible. She’s the most beautiful woman on this earth, and I want her to feel so very spoiled.

I kiss her forehead, then gently slide my palm down her cheek to her chin, then trail my finger down her neck to the dip between her breasts. I hook my finger into the neckline of her shirt. Then I grip the lapels and tug. The buttons spring off and fall to the bed. She gasps and pulls on her bindings, which strain. Her chest rises and falls, anticipation thrumming in the air between us. I wait until she subsides, then ease the two sides of her shirt apart. Her nipples are hard and poke through her bra. The areolas are dark and outlined against the silk.

Lust squeezes my guts. I bend and close my mouth around one of her breasts through the fabric. A moan slips from her lips. It urges me to palm her other breast. I squeeze it, then bite down on the nipple of the first one. She cries out, tries to pull away, but I don’t let her. I lean some of my weight on her, and she pants.

"So sweet. So fucking addictive," I praise her.

Goosebump pepper the space between her breasts. She’s so responsive.My woman. My wife. My submissive. Mine.I reach over to the wooden box on the nightstand, open it, extract a pair of scissors, and proceed to cut through her bra.

She flinches.

I cut off the straps, pull off the scraps of pink lace, and toss them aside.

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