PleasureBound (8 page)

Chapter Nine

Adam had no hope of making sense of the incoherent
blubbering Sam dissolved into the moment he slipped the platinum-set solitaire
onto her finger. The ring was the perfect fit, he was pleased to see—just tight
enough that it would require a somewhat concentrated effort to remove it, and
just big enough to broadcast the fact that she was a woman well and truly taken
by a man who meant business.

He was aware that perhaps he should have made more of an
effort to conform to the accepted protocol of waiting to hear her answer first,
but, as there could only be one tolerable outcome, he hadn’t seen any point in
prevaricating. Putting the ring on at the same time as popping the question was
the most effective way of stating his expectations, the seriousness of his
intent. The fact that Sam hadn’t taken the thing straight off and thrown it
back in his face was all the answer he needed.

Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her back to their
tent, where he shooed away the staff preparing the lantern-lit interior for the
night. Ignoring the pre-arranged bottle of celebratory champagne in favor of
shouldering through the mosquito netting and collapsing onto the bed, he pinned
his new fiancé under him for a kiss that thoroughly claimed her as his own.

His elation was immeasurable. He’d been so worried that
confessing his true—and frankly, unwelcome—feelings about the bondage situation
would turn Sam off him, even though she’d been the one to instigate it. After
all, she’d fallen in love with a man who’d never contemplated such
possibilities about himself, never mind experimented with them. With his
planned proposal in mind, he’d been concerned that such revelations must surely
change how she saw him. If he admitted that he’d actually liked giving up
control, admitted what surprising freedom he’d found in not to having to think
or make decisions for a change, would she still consider him to be good husband
material, capable and strong enough to protect her?

It had been the greatest relief to discover that apparently
she did. Not that Sam was a woman who would ever admit she needed protecting.
God, the feminist in her would whip his ass with her burning bra for even
daring to think such a thing. But right or wrong, he couldn’t help the way he
felt. Where she was concerned, the protective instinct was as natural and
necessary as breathing to him.

And just then that part of him was beating its chest in
triumph and insisting he plaster her tightly to him and never let her go. It
was only the eventual need for oxygen that forced him to break the kiss.
Looking down at Sam, beautiful in the soft light with her flushed and swollen
lips and her desire-bright eyes accentuated by lashes spiked by tears of
happiness, his heart seemed to expand in his chest and his body was gripped by
an overwhelming need to lay claim to all of her. There was no way was he going
to give in to that urge so soon after last night. He didn’t care what Sam said
about not being hurt, he’d seen the way she’d moved with extra caution all day
today, and he wasn’t going to make matters any worse.

Thankfully, despite his initial reticence, their earlier
wash-time lovemaking session had gone a long way to giving him the reassurance
he needed that he was once again fully in control of his passions. Just because
he couldn’t fuck his wife-to-be so deeply she’d never doubt they’d be joined
forever, didn’t mean they couldn’t find other ways to celebrate.

He began by stripping her out of her clothing, piece by
piece, taking time to kiss and lick every delectable dip and swell of flesh he
uncovered. He’d do the same thing on their wedding night, he vowed to
himself—when he’d have the undisputed right to back up his claim to each and
every lovely part of her with a possessive “Mine” just so neither of them had
any doubts about the matter. He couldn’t wait.

When at last he had Sam naked and splayed limp-limbed and
desire-dazed across the bed, he rose to divest himself of his own clothes.
While he was up, he took the opportunity to pop the cork on the champagne and
pour a stream of golden bubbles into one of the two long-stemmed flutes
provided. Taking the glass back to the bed, he slipped through the netting and
onto the mattress, stretching out alongside Sam and propping himself up on one
elbow so he could look down at her.

“Here,” he said, tilting the glass over Sam’s lips. “Let’s
drink to us.”

Sam raised her head to take a sip at the same moment that
Adam tipped the glass, the resulting knock causing more champagne to spill down
the sides of her face than into her mouth. Laughing, Sam made to wipe the mess
up with her hand, but Adam swooped down and did the job for her with his
tongue. Licking her lips and jaw and neck and sucking at the shallow pool of
liquid that had collected in the hollow of her throat.

“Mmm.” He made an appreciative sound as he reared back and
smiled down at her. “Now that’s what I call an exceptionally fine vintage.
Would you care for a drop more?” When Sam nodded and raised her head again, he
fed her a sip then moved the glass down and splashed some over her breast. “Me
too.”

He heard Sam’s laugh change to a moan as he bent and started
cleaning her up again with his mouth, not stopping until he’d dealt with every
drop and her nipple stood stiff and hard beneath his tongue. His cock had grown
stiff and hard too, pushing against her hip with provocative pressure as he
leaned over her to repeat the process all over again on her other breast.

When he had finished there, he poured a puddle of champagne
into the valley of her cleavage, watching as it formed a stream and headed down
the center of her stomach to pool in her navel. Remembering the fun Sam had had
teasing his own navel with her tongue the previous evening, he shifted lower on
the bed and lapped and licked and swirled until she was squirming and clutching
at the bedclothes. He found that his sensual feasting only increased his
appetite for more. Changing position again, he spread Sam’s legs and knelt
between them. Tipping the glass over the smooth-waxed curve of her pubic mound,
he let the merest drizzle escape to run down the split of her labia. Stretching
to place the half-empty glass on the bedside table, he re-settled himself and
lowered his face between her thighs.

“God, that tickles,” Sam said, a shiver running though her
and goose bumps rising on her skin. “Please, do something.”

With the up-close sight of her so wet and willing and
tempting, it was almost more than he could manage to ignore her plea and wait
until the drop had run nearly all the way to her anus before allowing himself
to catch it up on the tip of his tongue. In one long, luxurious movement, he
retraced its path, licking all the way back up to the start of her cleft. The
taste and scent of her hit him hard, sparking recent memories of her coming
repeatedly, helplessly, deliciously against his mouth, and firing up his
hunger. Using his fingers to spread her outer lips wide, he bared her for his
feasting, swirling and stroking his tongue into every delicate, sensitive crevice
of her soft, pink folds.

Sam whimpered and undulated beneath him, her movements slow
and sensuous to start with, but quickening into impatient bucks and thrusts as
he teased her closer to climax. But unlike earlier, this time he didn’t let her
come, no matter how many times she asked him for it. Instead, he built the
pressure at a slow, steady pace, easing off just before she toppled over into
the free fall of orgasm, reveling in the power of controlling her pleasure.

“You bastard,” she snapped, with her body bowed taut and her
teeth grinding in frustration. “Is this payback for last night?”

Oh, she could only wish. Adam raised himself, sending her a
smile to let her know she should be worried as he reached for the glass again.
He already had something much more interesting in mind for payback.

He offered her a sip, but Sam shook her head. “Adam,
please!” She paused, licking her lips and making an obvious effort to lower her
voice. “I really need you to fuck me. Now.”

He upended the last of the glass’ contents into his own
mouth, discovering the taste of expensive champagne and aroused Sam was a
flavor combination to die for. “I know.” He replaced the now empty glass and
bent to kiss her on the mouth. “And as much as I want to bury myself inside you
right now, I’m afraid it’s not going to happen.”

“Oh, it had better happen,” she threatened, her eyes
narrowing as she no doubt heard the echo of her own words to him last night.
“And soon.”

“Soon enough, baby,” he soothed, “but not just yet. Tonight
we’re going to take things easy.”

And by easy, he didn’t mean dull or boring or anything less
than a hundred-percent satisfying for both of them. He smothered any further
protests she might make with his mouth, kissing Sam so deeply she soon forgot
to complain. He used his hands, everywhere, and when there was no bit of her
left untouched, he followed suit with his mouth. When he finally let her come,
she rode the crest for so long she had to bite into a pillow to stifle her
screams.

As she drifted in her post-orgasmic pleasure haze, Sam’s
emotions once more came to the fore. Clutching him to her with a fierceness
Adam found gratifying, she whispered how much she loved him, how happy she was
that things had turned out.

“I was so scared that I’d pushed you too far,” she confided.
“Driven you away from me.”

With the world reduced to their little mosquito-netted
cocoon, Sam safe in his arms and her words acting like a soothing balm on his
frayed nerves, Adam felt lulled enough to make his own confession. “For a while
there I thought you had pushed too far.” Then he made a halting attempt at
explaining some of the confusion he’d felt, the struggle he’d had trying to
accept the strange new feelings she’d awoken in him. “I thought admitting to
them would change things between us.”

Sam pushed up onto her elbows, grasping him by the face with
both hands and holding him while she looked earnestly into his eyes. “Adam,
even if you turn out to be the most pitiful wimp of a submissive ever, I’ll
still love you.”

As happy as he was to hear that, Adam snorted. “Like that’s
ever going to happen.” In a flash he had her on her back, moving to position
himself over her so that his thighs straddled her shoulders. “And you might
want to consider watching what names you call your future husband from now on,”
he told her, clapping a fist around the shaft of his erection and guiding it to
where he ached for it to be. “Now open up so I can teach that mouth some
manners.” He shuddered as he watched the head of his cock slip between her
pretty lips. Slowly, he pushed in deep. Again and again and again, until Sam
was a gasping, grasping wreck of surrender beneath him and he wasn’t in a much
better state himself.

The following afternoon saw them back within the walls of
the Kasbah, lounging beside the pool before enjoying relaxing massages and
sharing a soak in the thermal waters of the hotel’s subterranean sunken baths.

Back in their suite after another sumptuous evening meal,
Sam floated out of the bathroom, showered and wrapped in a thick towel, her
head in the clouds and her feet feeling no closer to touching the ground than
they had been for the past twenty-four hours.

She was surprised to find Adam, clad only in low-slung
casual trousers, rummaging in the bedside drawer in which she’d stashed her
kinky bondage kit to save the blushes of the room maids. With his olive skin
burnished to golden by the sunshine and his midnight hair falling loose and
silky around his clean-lined features, he looked the very epitome of the tall,
dark, handsome hero. Quite literally, he had the ability to take her breath
away, and if it hadn’t been for the obvious weight of the baguette diamond on
her finger acting as constant proof, she’d barely believe he was really hers.

“Decided you’d like a bit of bondage again so soon?” she
teased, pulse accelerating at the memory of having him tied up—mad, male and
magnificent.

Adam, who’d kept reaching for her hand throughout the day
and brushing his fingertips against the ring as though he also needed the
reassurance that it was all real, ignored her question and, without turning his
attention from the drawer, asked one of his own. “Where’s the blindfold?”

“Ooh, and the blindfold too, this time!” she laughed,
stopping in front of the dressing table mirror and watching him in the reflection,
admiring the play of strong muscles across the back of his shoulders as she
began running a comb through her freshly washed hair. “I thought you liked to
see what’s going on?”

Straightening, Adam dumped a black tangle of rope and cuffs
onto the bed and turned to stalk gracefully toward her, his eyes glittering
above a smile worthy of a hungry great white shark. A warm, heavy feeling
spread low through her belly. Oh, boy.

“Don’t worry, Samantha, I’ll get to see exactly what’s going
on.” He came right up behind her, holding her gaze locked in the mirror as he
reached his hand around her shoulder to run the corner of the soft leather
blindfold down her cheek. “It’s going to be you who’s in the dark.”

“Me?” she squeaked, feeling a little dizzy.

She fell deeper into the reflection of those blue eyes, so
bright, so sharp, as Adam leaned even closer and dropped his voice. “Blind.
Bound. Helpless.” His words shivered across her skin—delicious, velvet-covered
threats. “Let’s see how you like it.”

Sam gasped as the blindfold went on. In a world suddenly
turned black, her every breath became a deafening rush as sound amplified—her
skin prickled with extra sensitivity as the anticipation of every touch sent
electricity zinging to her nerve endings. Awareness heightened, excitement
shivering through her, Sam’s entire being seemed to tune itself toward Adam.