Page 80 of Devil's Tulip

“Shhh,” he murmurs sexily, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of my wrist as he clicks the cuff into place. “Now, I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

A shiver runs through me. I should be resisting or something—but all I can do is watch him, waiting, wanting…

Then his fingers are gripping my chin, his thumb pressing into my jaw. “Give me your tongue.” The words are barely out ofhis mouth before I’m parting my lips, poking my tongue out for him.

My brain cells have officially departed the room. I’m a complete goner for him. He could order me to waltz through hellfire, and I’d probably thank him for the privilege.

But he doesn’t ask me to do that. No, his ideas are far more deliciously wicked. He leans down and sucks the sensitive organ into his mouth, and I swear I short-circuit right there on the spot. I jerk against the cuffs like I’ve been hit with a live wire as acute pleasure slings through me and his grip tightens even more on my chin.

The exquisite cocktail of pain and pleasure is so intense my eyes roll back, my body writhing beneath him, entirely at his mercy.

He lets go of my face, and my head drops back to the pillow with a soft thud. Then his mouth is everywhere—nipping at my brows, my nose, my chin—trailing lower, down to my throat. I groan his name, my head digging into the pillow with the force of my pleasure.

He’s mastered the art of my body.

His hands find my tits through my dress, squeezing just enough to make me whimper. Not enough. More. I arch higher, silently begging.

He curses and adjusts my body to the left. The position tugs at my arms, making my wrists sting a little, but I barely register it when he grabs the zipper and finally drags it down.

Then he turns me onto my back again—and stills.

A beat passes. Then another.

He lets out another curse, a deep, frustrated sound, and I realize what the issue is at the same time he does.

He can’t take the dress off. Not with my hands cuffed to the damn headboard.

His jaw tenses, but instead of unlocking the cuffs, he presses a lingering kiss to my throat, and I don’t miss how he inhales deeply before pulling back from me.

I watch, chest heaving, as he gets off the bed, crosses to the other nightstand, and takes out?—

A knife. A wickedly curved knife.

My breath hitches when he walks back to me, knife in hand, the blade glinting.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, arresting my gaze with those pale blue eyes.

I’m nodding before I even process the question. And I realizeI do. At least with this—my body and the sexual things.

“Good.” Then, he presses the knife against my throat.

I go completely still.

The steel barely tickles my skin, but my heart slams against my ribs, wild and frantic. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he watches me, studying every flicker of my reaction, before he carefully lifts the knife away. “Good wife. Youdotrust me.”

Then he turns the blade to the neckline of my dress, and with a loud, crinkling tear, he slices it open from neck to hem, the fabric splitting like a shirt to reveal my lace bra and panties.

He smirks as he drinks me in. “Pretty,” he hums, before getting to work tearing through the armholes until every bit of the ragged material is peeled away from my body.

Satisfaction darkens his features as he takes in his handiwork. Without ever breaking eye contact, he tosses the knife to the floor behind him, the metallic clatter barely registering through the thundering of my heartbeat.

Leaning down, he wraps his hot mouth around my nipple through the lace, drawing a sharp cry from my lips as his teeth clamp down mercilessly on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Once,twice he scrapes against the tender flesh before sucking my hardened nipple back into the hot, wet heat of his mouth.

“Fuck, Michael!” I scream to the ceiling, my neck hurting from how hard I push it back into the pillow, my head hitting the headboard with a distinct crack. But I don’t feel the pain right now.

I’m too busy being lost in pleasure.

Michael switches to my other nipple, alternating between them—sucking, biting, tormenting me until the fabric of my bra is soaked through with his saliva.

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