Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
But only with safeguards.
“Tie me up,” he repeated. It was hard to say the words. He’d been tied up before, and it’d led to terrible things.
This is different.
Trust her.
Yes, he did. He trusted no one else, not a single soul in the whole wide world. But he trusted her because he knew her heart. It was etched upon his skin, unseen but as real as the scars he wore.
Autumn gave a small nod, so small that if he’d blinked, he would have missed it. She walked into the bedroom, and his hungry eyes watched her as she moved, her bare hips swaying, as his body shook with need.
When she emerged, she had something in her hands. Socks. They’re long knee socks. Those would work as well as anything. His heart jumped, from both trepidation and lust. He was vibrating with desire. But he knew the bonds were necessary. He was a monster, and monsters were unpredictable, especially when need was pumping through their veins.
“First,” Autumn said softly, “I’m going to undress you.”
He supposed that was necessary. He couldn’t speak. It was almost too much for him. Her. This.
Autumn’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining with some unnamed emotion, but her hands were steady as she unbuttoned his shirt, spreading it open and then laying her palms on his pecs. She leaned her head back, her lips slightly parted, her delicate throat moving as she swallowed. “Everything about you is so beautiful, Sam,” she said.
A sound vibrated in his throat. Sam had heard himself make all sorts of noises before, some automatic, unbidden, but he’d never heard himself make a sound like that.
She trailed her finger down the scar that ran from his throat to his navel. He’d received that one when he was very young. He didn’t even remember what it’d been from. And he didn’t care. He’d always hated his scars, hated what they represented. But he was suddenly grateful that particular scar was especially long and gave Autumn something to run her finger over for several breathless moments. He’d never look at it the same again. Autumn leaned forward and grazed her lips lightly over the puckered skin, and he shuddered, his breath emerging in staggered pants. “Autumn,” he breathed. An urgent plea. A desperate prayer.
She leaned away, pushing his shirt over his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. For a moment, she simply gazed at him, her eyes roaming over his shoulders, his chest, and down to his navel. He felt the way he did when she’d first stared at him after the shower when his towel had fallen. He buzzed with electricity, with life, with some magic he couldn’t define but knew was in her and somehow was leaving its traces on him as well. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and brought them down his hips and over his straining erection, and those too dropped to the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them aside.
She stared at his manhood, and impossibly, he swelled larger, throbbing with what was both pleasure and pain. Autumn swallowed again and let out a small nervous laugh. “I’m skeptical this is going to fit,” she said.
Fit. She meant to put him inside her. Oh God.
“Tie me up now,” he grated, lying down on the bed and lifting his hands to the wooden bedposts. “Make them tight.”
She straddled him, leaning forward and tying his wrists one by one.
“My feet too,” he said.
She met his eyes. “Sam—”
“Please,” he begged.
She paused but then got off the bed, walking to the footboard and tying each ankle in turn. She looked at his feet for a moment, tracing the scars at his ankles, her pretty lips dipping into a frown momentarily. She returned to the bedside and then climbed up and straddled him once again. She grazed his erection, and he hissed, a zap of bliss causing him to arch his back, his body seeking more. He felt an urgency to take and pound and possess, and even while he instinctively tugged at his bindings, he was simultaneously grateful she’d tied them tight.
Autumn leaned forward, feathering her open mouth over his, using her tongue to trace his lips. He groaned, his hips coming off the bed, seeking. “Madagascar,” he sighed. He couldn’t think. He only had his senses. And she tasted like her scent. Vanilla beans. Flowers. Sunrises. Snowfalls. All things sweet and clean and wonderful. Moments he’d been in so briefly and never wanted to leave.
He wanted to weep with the beauty of her, the intensity of this moment, unlike anything he’d ever experienced or ever thought he would. Even in his wildest dreams.
Autumn smiled against his skin, moving lower, licking slowly around his nipple as his nerves lit on fire and burned like a thousand sticks of dynamite, flaring toward some unknown end, not just a climax of his body but of his heart. Sparking. Buzzing. She kissed over his scars, rubbing her lips and her tongue and her hair over his skin, causing him to groan and writhe and beg, words and phrases spilling from his lips between harsh pants of breath. He couldn’t even hear himself over the blood whooshing in his ears and rushing through his body.