Page 26 of Bind Me, Sir

“Will you trust me to give you release without either of those things?”

It wouldn’t take more than a mere touch of his hand between my legs to set off the storm building in my center, but I had hoped for more—much more. I’d allowed things to progress to a point I hadn’t dared hope for, and I wasn’t about to deny myself his touch and the release I craved.

My second nod dropped him to his knees, and he tugged my panties to my ankles.

Heat flooded my face once more as he stared at the patch of hair between my thighs, his nostrils widening as though breathing the scent of my arousal deep into his lungs.

“Step out,” he said, his voice a bit ragged.

I held his shoulder while obeying, and he tossed my panties aside and moved on to unclasping my sandals.

Shivering as though naked in a snow storm rather than in the sweltering heat of summer, I stood before him, ready and willing. Needing what I trusted him to give me.

“Lay back, love.”

I scooted up onto the altar and did as told, thick thighs pressed tightly together, arms over my chest, my eyes clenching shut for a brief moment as though I could protect myself from what was to come.

The second I opened my eyes and found a small smile curling the side of his mouth, I melted. Doomed myself to heartache come morning.

I couldn’t find it in myself to stop, though.

Chapter Thirteen

Jordan

Rather than demand Natalie relax, I lifted one of her small feet into my hands and rubbed her sole with my thumbs. She let out a sigh, filling the silence of the church as I massaged up to her toes, then to her ankle.

“Close your eyes, love,” I murmured. “Just feel.”

What I had planned didn’t require a contract, a discussion of health concerns or triggers that might set her off—or clam her up. Simple sensory play, prolonging her arousal, her need for release, would intensify her climax once I allowed it.

I’d been pleased at her request to be bound, but I had no plans to strap her tight, making her unable to move if she wished.

The tension eventually left her thighs, but not enough they parted for me to see the pink petals between. Wetness smeared the insides of her thighs, and the musky sweetness of her that had filled my lungs moments earlier, tempting me to taste, when I’d stared mere inches away from the patch of dark hair.

Fully woman, uninhibited and seemingly unembarrassed by the untrimmed patch—I’d never found a woman so damn alluring. Unlike the flowers scenting the room, Natalie had yet to bloom, to open fully to her inner beauty.

Wanting to be her rain, her sun, I moved on to her other foot, deciding on my course of action.

Eyes still closed, she finally relaxed from my foot massage, her lips slightly parted. She wished to be bound, the main part of scening that never failed to swell my cock, but the ropes atop the altar seemed too much for a complete innocent to the lifestyle. Too abrasive for what she needed, what I intended to give her.

“Don’t move, love,” I murmured while releasing her second foot and turning toward the bed. Gathering the silk scarves lying over the foot of the bed, I glanced over to find her an obedient sub, legs still lax, arms resting over her stomach, rather than hiding her lush breasts from me.

I crossed the room to the rack and counter, gathering other items I expected she might like. Setting them on the small table beside the altar, I studied my canvas. Pale skinned, soft and womanly, without the too-toned muscle or protruding hip bones of models and socialite-wannabes, Natalie pleased me, offering what I hadn’t realized I preferred until that moment.

Natural woman—all woman, as God intended her to be, the form of beauty that demanded I worship and satisfy.

A shudder rippled over her, pebbling her skin, as I grasped her ankles and slid her closer to the altar’s edge. I propped her foot on the cushioned rim, and found great pleasure as she did the same to the other—without my direction—even if she did keep her knees pressed tightly together.

Attention on the plump cheeks of her ass coming together to the crease I longed to explore, I tied an end of a scarf around her ankle.

A strangled moan escaped her, one sounding as though she found her body’s reaction to my hands embarrassing, it tilted my lips up. I flicked my gaze to her face while shifting her ankle to the side and tying the other end of the scarf to the ring at the altar’s corner.

“Okay, love?” I asked, keeping my tone low and soothing.

Eyes clenched tight, she flicked her tongue over her lower lip. “Yes,” she whispered.

I allowed her the moment of privacy with her thoughts, knowing she would submit every part of her before I finished. Sliding my hand up her shin and slowly pressing her knees fully apart pulled a gasp from her lips, and she tensed once more.

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