Page 25 of Bind Me, Sir

He groaned at my whispered words, at the name I knew to call him.

The warmth of Jordan’s body left my back, and I shivered even though the church felt too warm—stifling, even.

His fingers caressed my shoulders, sliding beneath the straps of my frumpy sundress. “Relax, love,” he murmured, and I realized I’d tensed beneath his touch. He slipped first one strap then the other off my shoulders, gently tugging the stretchy material down over my breasts.

I panted even though he’d barely touched me—hadn’t yet kissed me. Embarrassment over the fact I might come before he even bared my sex flushed me from head to toe.

“So soft,” he murmured, his hands soothing down my fluffy sides, taking my dress to my hips. “Like a rose petal…” Jordan unclasped my strapless bra with deft fingers, and on instinct, I grasped the cups to my breasts to keep them from spilling out.

“Color?” he whispered against my ear, his large hands sliding atop mine.

“G-green,” I half-choked, and allowed him to move my hands away, taking the bra with them.

My nipples tightened to hard points as he lifted my breasts in his hands, making a noise of approval at their heavy weight. “Perfect.”

I wanted to argue they were too large, but a teasing brush over my nipples ripped the thought right from my head, and I sagged back against his hard chest. I bit my lip to keep my moan contained as evidence of his arousal pressed into my lower back.

“Put your hands behind my head, love.”

I did as told, lifting my arms and putting myself at his mercy. He squeezed and kneaded both of my breasts, light flicks over my aching buds pulling whimpers from my lips. Again, he murmured an appreciation against my ear while nipping at my lobe, and I tilted my head to the side on a sigh, all thoughts of insecurity over my shape, my size, burned away on flames of pure lust.

He stepped back suddenly, and I swayed, catching my hands on the edge of the altar. “Turn around.”

The soft, suave tone in his voice had given way to a commanding one that raced my heart. I obeyed, my pulse thrumming—from excitement and fear of the unknown alike.

He stared at my heaving breasts long enough I trembled before him. His gaze dropped to my waist and below. “Remove your dress, Natalie. I want to see all of you.”

Hands shaking, I pushed the fabric down over my wide hips—completely revealing the softness of the stomach I hated. Lust flared to life in his eyes as the dress pooled around my feet on the stone floor, my cell still tucked in its pocket. A mere bit of cotton hid the apex of my thighs, soaked and useless in hiding what his stare, his touch, did to me.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, taking me in from my toes slowly back up over my pebbling skin to meet my gaze.

My breath caught on the argument I almost spewed.

No man had ever looked at me in such a way, as though he wanted me spread out before him, a feast to be devoured. Like I was a hot fudge sundae with a pile of whipped cream he wanted to lick until gone.

A whimper slipped past my lips as he moved closer, his chin lowered as he held my stare. Mere inches separated us when he paused, my exhales deeper than my inhales.

He focused on my parted lips, making them tingle beneath his attention. “Since I need to be as honest with you as you have with me, I want you to know that I have two hard limits of my own,” he said.

“O-okay.”

“No kissing.”

I swallowed back disappointment over not getting a chance to taste his lips, his breath, but nodded, knowing such intimacy made it harder to leave emotions out of what we were about to do.

“No fucking,” he continued.

“Why?” I whispered, blinking up at him.

He tucked my hair behind my ear, his lips pursing for a moment. “Because even though a submissive holds the power over a scene, I refuse to allow a woman power over me.”

I appreciated his honesty, his vulnerability in sharing such a thing, but it still stung all the same. He didn’t know me, so how could he trust my emotional response to him?

A frown flitted over my brow as I fought for something to say, and he lifted his gaze to my eyes.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t give you what you need,” he murmured.

What I needed was him inside me, stroking deep—thrusting hard enough I saw stars and forgot my own name for a time. At least, that’s what I expected good sex ought to be like if the books were true.

---