Page 49 of Bound By Honor

I spin her around, claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss. Walking her backwards until her knees hit the bed, I tumble her down onto the mattress. Her heated skin meets the cool sheets, drawing a soft moan from her lips.

I cover her body with mine, settling between her thighs. The heat of her through the thin fabric of her panties tests my control. Her hips rock against me, desperate for release.

“Please,” she begs, her voice thick with need. “Please, I need you.”

“Shh,” I soothe her, pressing a kiss to her throat. “I know exactly what you need.”

I hook my fingers in her panties, dragging them down her legs. The evidence of her arousal coats her thighs, proving how much the mix of submission and sensation has affected her.

“So wet for me,” I murmur, trailing my fingers through her folds. “The pain makes everything more intense, doesn’t it? Makes you crave my touch even more.”

She cries out as I circle her clit, her hips bucking into my touch. I slide two fingers inside her, groaning at how tight and wet she is.

“You feel incredible,” I tell her, pumping my fingers in and out. “Like you were made for this. Made for me.”

“I was,” she gasps, her inner muscles fluttering around my fingers. “I was made for you, Luciano. For everything you give me.”

I curl my fingers, finding that spot inside her that makes her see stars. Her whole body arches, the movement making her gasp as it pulls at her sensitized skin. The dual sensations push her over the edge, and she comes with a cry of my name, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

I withdraw my fingers, bringing them to my mouth to taste her essence. She watches through hooded eyes, her chest heaving, skin flushed from both arousal and our earlier play.

“You taste divine,” I murmur, holding her gaze. “But I want more. I want to watch you fall apart again, feel how sensitive you are now.”

I settle between her thighs, draping her legs over my shoulders. Her marked skin is warm against my palms as I grip her hips. “Remember, Aurora,” I say softly, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. “This is about your pleasure. About showing you how beautiful you are when you surrender everything to me.”

She’s trembling now, her hands still bound behind her back, making her arch slightly. The position must pull at her skin, adding another layer of sensation. When I finally reach her center, I pause, looking up at her.

“Let me hear you,” I encourage. “Don’t hold back. Show me how much you love everything I give you—the pain, the pleasure, all of it.”

With that, I lean in, savoring her taste as her cries fill the room. Her thighs tremble against my shoulders as I work her higher, each lick and suck intensified by her heightened state. When she comes again, it’s with a keening cry that echoes off the walls.

Finally, I shed my clothes, covering her body with mine. The heat of her skin against my chest makes me groan. “I love you,”I tell her, my voice raw with emotion. “Love how much you trust me, how perfectly you submit to me.”

“I love you too,” she whispers, eyes shining. “Now please, make me yours completely.”

I slide into her, a groan rumbling up from my chest at the perfect way she sheathes me. Her inner muscles flutter around me, still sensitive from her previous orgasms. My strokes are long and deep, angling to hit that spot inside her that makes her clutch at my shoulders, even if she can’t now.

“The way you feel right now,” I growl against her throat, “so sensitive, marked by me inside and out...” I reach between us to circle her clit. “Come for me one more time. Come on my cock, Aurora.”

She shatters with a scream, her body clenching around me like a vice. The sight of her coming undone, knowing I’ve pushed her to this point of complete surrender, sends me over the edge. I follow her into oblivion, spilling myself inside her with a shout of her name.

I collapse beside her, gathering her into my arms. “Color?” I ask softly.

“Green,” she murmurs, nuzzling into my chest. “So green.”

I reach for the bottle of water on the nightstand, helping her take small sips. I run my hands over her body, checking for any discomfort or injury.

“I’m okay,” she assures me. “Better than okay. That was... incredible.”

I carry her to the bathroom, setting her gently on the counter. I run a warm bath, adding her favorite lavender oil. I take my time washing her, my hands skimming over the marks I’ve left on her skin. I clean between her thighs with soft strokes, mindful of her sensitivity.

I reach for the bottle of soothing aloe vera gel I keep nearby, squeezing a generous amount into my palm. I warm it betweenmy hands before gently massaging it into the reddened skin of her back and buttocks, where the flogger left its marks.

“Is this okay?” I ask softly, my touch light and careful. “Let me know if anything hurts.”

“It feels good,” she murmurs, her voice languid and content. “Soothing.”

I take my time, ensuring every mark is tended to, the gel helping to cool and calm her skin. As I work, I press soft kisses to her shoulders, her neck, her temple, murmuring words of praise and affection.

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