The Gilded Cuff (18 page)

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes, what?” he growled. One hand cupped the back of her neck and he massaged the tense muscles, but his expression was stony and almost cold. This was Emery, the dom. A side of himself he’d kept hidden until now. It didn’t frighten her. It excited her. Her nipples pebbled at the rough feel of his hands against her skin as he continued to stroke.

“Yes, sir?”

A momentary wink of amusement colored his eyes into a deep honey gold. “Are you asking me a question, little sub?”

Sophie nearly started to explain, but realized that would get her spanked. As much as she liked the idea, she wanted to prove to him she was learning about his world.

“Permission to speak, sir?”

A jerk of his head and he dropped his hand from the back of her neck. She mourned the loss of his touch instantly, but struggled to focus.

“I was confused, sir, about whether to address you as sir, or master. Which would you prefer?”

Approval gleamed in his eyes and his lips twitched slightly.

“Your thoughtfulness is pleasing to me. For that you will be rewarded. Later. Most subs call doms ‘Sir’, but in cases where a dom and a sub are more deeply connected, ‘Master’ is a better form of address. I would prefer to be called Master.” He hadn’t ordered her to call him Master; the phrasing seemed to hint she might have a choice. There was no denying, though, that the idea of calling him Master, in the bedroom, was erotic. It made her inner walls slick with desire and her senses heightened. Surrendering to him would be the most sensual and arousing thing she had ever done and she couldn’t wait.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Say your safe word. Practice it. I want to know you can say it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting patiently, but the pose was still intimidating. He oozed raw power and sexuality, like a large jungle cat waiting to pounce.

“Apricot,” she replied instantly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” He suddenly grinned, with an expression so potent, so blatantly full of masculine arrogance. “Why that word?”

Before she could reply he knelt before her and focused on her red shoes, easing them off her feet. There was something so intimate, so erotic about being barefoot in front of him. He drew a finger along the inside of one arch and she stifled a giggle. He glanced up, one brow arched.

“I’m allergic to apricots,” she choked out when she realized he was waiting for her answer.

He said nothing to her response, but merely stood up and stared at her for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Put your hands flat on the bed and lean forward a little.”

With a tremor of excitement, Sophie complied. His palms settled on her shoulders, then slid down her arms across to her back. The zipper of her dress moved down inch by inch. Her breathing lightened when the gown gaped open and he could undo it no further. Emery stepped close behind her, pinning her thighs to the bedside with his own. Heat lanced through her body and she fought off a shiver as he glided his hands beneath the straps on her shoulders and pulled them down. The dress dropped to her waist, caught between their bodies. Emery stepped back, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor.

Even though she had her back to him, the heat of his gaze on her made her flush and tremble.

“You are beautiful.” Simple words, yet they evoked a raw response of pleasure in her. She knew if he said them, he meant them.

“Turn around and look at me.”

Naked except for her bra, she resisted every instinct to cover herself and pivoted to face him. She bravely raised her eyes. The feeling of being so exposed was overwhelming. Her breath quickened and her cheeks flamed. Sophie wanted to curl her arms around herself and hide.

He stepped close again, hands settling on her naked hips, fingertips teasing her skin in slow patterns.

“Take off your bra.”

“Emery,” she uttered his name in a shameful plea. The scars. They were always there, a reminder of her ugly secrets. If he saw them, it would be all he’d ever see and he’d never truly look at her again. It was too intimate, too personal to reveal her suffering to him. It had been easier to tell him, but show him? That was verging on the impossible.

“Now.” The growl came from the back of his throat, animalistic and so dominating it made her shake.

She dropped her chin, eyes falling to the floor as she reached behind her back and undid the bra clasp. With painstaking focus she slid it off her arms and let it fall to the floor.

Silence. Awful silence. She’d expected a gasp, an exclamation or some other logical reaction to her scars. Nothing.

“Please, say something, anything,” she begged, her throat constricting as she fought to swallow her fear. She couldn’t cry; she had to stay in control. This had been bound to happen. He wouldn’t be attracted to her now that he saw how imperfect her body was.

One of his hands resting at her hip moved up to touch the three long, jagged scars that ran diagonally across her body, over her breasts. Her skin was marred with the light brown and slightly raised lines of the scars. She’d hoped they would turn pink or white, but the damage to her skin had been so complete that the marks remained dark and angry looking.

“You told me these were from a surgery,” he reminded her.

“They are…sort of. I didn’t get them from a surgery, but a doctor did sew me back together.” She drew a breath, trying to focus on the feel of his fingers. They brushed over the numb skin. She could barely feel his touch; the nerve endings hadn’t ever reconnected after the horrible damage to her chest.

“What happened, Sophie?”

At least that she could tell him. Now that he’d seen them, it didn’t matter how they’d come about. No shame there, thankfully.

“I was doing a story on a man who thought he was the next Jack the Ripper. He’d killed three women in Missouri. The police had a suspect but no proof and not enough evidence to get a warrant to get into his house. I figured I could help out. Rather than stay on the sidelines, I got a little cocky. If I could get inside and find something I could call the cops and then they’d have a reason to enter the premises. I waited for the man to leave and snuck in to look around for evidence. He came back a few minutes later. I guess he’d forgotten something. He found me…We…er…fought. He was pretty good with a hunting knife.”

She shut her eyes. The memory of that encounter had lost much of its horror over time. In truth, she’d been far less scared of him than she was of the man who’d taken Rachel. By the time she’d tangled with the serial killer she was well aware how full of evil the world was, and she’d expected it around every corner.

W
hat happened?” Emery was still stroking Sophie. Each touch made her less ashamed of the scars and more aware of his body and his hands on her, and the way he made her feel beautiful, desirable. His fingers traced the knotted flesh and she reached up to cover his hand with hers. He turned his palm away from her chest to catch her hand, linking their fingers. He squeezed gently, a tender reassurance from compassion rather than pity. It made her eyes burn and she blinked back tears.

“I got him back for the scars with three shots to the chest from my .22.”

For the first time since earlier that day, Emery laughed.

“There’s my girl.” He cupped her chin with one palm, his gaze stealing hers.

She was startled at the warmth, rather than heat there. It was different. Sensuality surrounded her with his fully clothed body so close to hers, but that look—it was million miles away from lust. It was softer, sweeter and it made a storm of butterflies flutter wildly in her stomach.

He was seeing her, not the scars. His gaze was a promise of so much more than pity, more than even compassion. Rather she saw an understanding. His scars weren’t on the outside, but they were there all the same. It reminded her of an old poem by John Donne about two loves being so alike that they could not die. The hairs along her forearms stirred and her body and heart moved as one toward him.

He dropped his hand and tenderly grasped one of her breasts, kneading it. His fingertips strummed over the nipple, bring it to an erect peak before he plucked the bud. Delicious pain shot straight to her womb and she arched up on her toes. She had only moments to enjoy the teasing of her breast before he doubled her need by pressing his hand against her mound and squeezing softly. The pressure on her mound made her suck in a breath as desire slammed into her.

“Does any of this hurt?” he whispered as he continued to play with her breast, tweaking her nipple again and again.

“No, Master.” The word ‘Master’ came instinctively, and she barely had time to laugh inside at her own desire to call him that. To give him control even in that single syllable.

“You please me, Sophie. I didn’t even have to remind you. If anything I do hurts in a bad way, say your safe word immediately.”

“Yes, Master.” Since the attack, her breasts had not been sensitive, but beneath his touch they seemed to come awake.

Her lashes lowered and she simply focused on the feel of his hands. It had been so long since she’d been touched there. The contact between them was physical, yet with each stroke, each caress, he was entering her mind and heart. There was fire and carnality in him, barely restrained beneath his tense muscles. He abandoned all decorum and indulged in every animal urge: rubbing his cheek against her aching breasts, licking the tender tips before suckling them. Emery shed every shred of restraint and she couldn’t help but want to join him and become a creature focused solely on sensual discovery. Sophie fought the urge to shift restlessly beneath his stroking.

Emery pulled her flush against him, the smooth fabric of his expensive suit sliding erotically against her bare skin, making her tingle wherever it touched her. The sense of utter wickedness, the sinful bliss of being exposed and naked while he remained fully clothed, was decadent. She was vulnerable and he was in charge. He smiled against her lips as he held her face between his hands and kissed her. It was a slow leisurely exploration of her mouth that left her hot and aching. She curled her fingers into his lapels, dragging him close so she could kiss him back.

Their connection seemed to last for hours, and he broke away from her all too soon. What she saw in his eyes terrified her. Gentleness. Desire. Hunger. Excitement. The blur of emotions was too overpowering. He couldn’t possibly feel all those things at once, not for her. Sophie struggled to stay on the surface of her own emotions. She couldn’t let herself fall too deep, too hard, into him. She’d never be able to stop from drowning in him.

“You still don’t believe I desire you?” A slight frown wrinkled his brow.

How could he? She wasn’t thin, wasn’t beautiful. She was a plain, dumpy girl from the Midwest. Men like him dated models from Milan or Paris.

“Whatever you’re thinking? Stop,” he ordered sharply. When she didn’t immediately meet his gaze, he fisted a hand in her hair and jerked her head back. “Do you want me to prove it to you, little sub? I know exactly how I would. Tie you down to my bed and show you just how hard you’ve made me. I’d punish you with climax after climax until you’d screamed yourself hoarse, and you wouldn’t be able to sit down for at least two days.” That wildness was there, lurking in his eyes, and coloring his tone. He was angry with her, because she didn’t believe he desired her.

Her mouth dry, she gasped. “It doesn’t make sense for you to want me.”

“It makes perfect sense, and if you argue with me I will redden your ass with my hand until we’re both hurting. Do you understand? I won’t accept those thoughts, not from my sub. Do not disappoint me, Sophie.” He waited for her to protest, but she didn’t dare. Only when she kept silent did he continue. “I love your luscious figure. You have full breasts, perfect to fill my palms, hips made for the span of my hands to grip. And don’t get me started on your ass. I have very wicked thoughts about that particular body part.” He shot her a crooked grin.

A breathless laugh escaped her. “What about my ass?”

He dropped his hands to the body part in question, clenching the soft flesh, which caused her hips to jerk into his reflexively.

“It’s the perfect cushion for me to pound against when I take you from behind. It’s just the right size for me to hold when I lift you up to take you against the wall.” He pulled her impossibly tighter against him, his pants-clad erection rubbing over her throbbing core. If he kept talking like this she wasn’t going to last the rest of the night, and his slow seduction suggested he planned to play for the next several hours.

“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” She tugged at his coat but he caught her hands.

“When I wish to. First, I have to do what I’ve been aching to do since the moment I first saw you.” Without a warning he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He set her down and retrieved the chains. The sight of them, and knowing he would restrain her completely, made her heart skip a few beats and rush to catch up.

She remained still, only moving her body when instructed. After a few minutes he had her arms and legs tied to each corner of the bedpost. The chains were snugly fastened to silver rings on her wrist and ankle cuffs.

Emery knelt on the bed between the V of her thighs and simply looked at her.

“You are stunning. Like no other woman I’ve been with. You are real.” His soft murmur made her writhe against the restraints. His eyes narrowed on the small struggle and he grinned wolfishly. He settled his hands on her waist and leaned over.

Her body vibrated with need, with excitement. And yet she was scared. Not of being hurt. He would never hurt her. But she knew on some level that being with him, truly and completely, would change her forever. No other man’s touch would drive her mindless with sensual hunger. He would possess her totally and she would never be free of the memories of him. She didn’t want to be free. She wanted to melt into him, merge with the passion he drew forth from her, and be the wild, wanton creature he summoned with his smile, his kiss, and whisky-rough whispers of what he was going to do to her. Bad things. Deliciously bad.

He sat back on his heels and slipped his coat off, tossing it on the back of a nearby chair. Then his hands settled on his tie. He loosened and slid it over his head and then, with a truly sensual and wicked twist to his lips, he slipped it over her head and down around her neck. He tightened it enough for her to feel the knot against her throat. He stroked the tie flat between her breasts and then tweaked each nipple back to life. Sophie moaned, trying to raise her hips. The chains were tight enough that she had no real ability to move. The sounds of her slight struggle against the bonds was mixed with the sound of his harsh breathing. She strained up, meeting his hooded gaze, knowing the depth of her power over him in that instant. She had the ability to control how much he enjoyed being with her; it was as she’d been told. The submissive had the power, not the dominant because a true dominant could only find pleasure when his partner had submitted willingly. The way Emery’s eyes glittered with passion and hunger as well as pleasure was the only proof she needed to see that her surrender heightened his desire. He wouldn’t have enjoyed this if she wasn’t enjoying it too.

“I like it when you wear my clothes.” He bent his head and licked and nibbled a path up from her belly to one breast, taking the nipple in his mouth. His teeth sank into the tender flesh around the nipple and his tongue flitted out, laving the peak.

Sophie threw her head back, bowing with sheer pleasure as he started to suck hard on her breast. She thrashed wildly as his mouth worked miracles on her breast and his hand shaped the curve of her hip before settling on the back of her leg where her bottom met her thigh. The skin there was soft and sensitive and his fingers teased her, gliding back and forth, drawing closer and closer to her center from behind.

When he reached her slick inner folds he drew his fingertip in lazy patterns, spreading the moisture that pooled there. Before she expected it, he slid that same finger into her sheath. Sophie arched off the bed, gasping. Her reaction spurred him to a quicker pace. He added a second finger, pumping them deeper inside.

“So tight,” he ground out between clenched teeth. Emery moved, looming over her as a third finger joined his other two. He worked them slowly and gently, but he was firm, preparing her.

Her inner walls clenched around his fingers, trying to pull him inside her. “Emery, please…I’m not going to last much longer.”

“All right, sweetheart,” he breathed against her lips. She had only a moment to be surprised at the gentle ardor with which he’d spoken before she heard the whisper of a zipper and the rustle of clothes. Then the head of his cock was nudging at her core.

She wanted to kiss him, wanted to have his mouth on hers, but he was watching her, his lips parted as his breathing hitched. Then he was inside her. The thrust was sharp and hard, and they shared a moan of pleasure when he withdrew and thrust in again, his hips inching closer and closer to hers. The entire time he worked his way into her, their gazes were locked.

A lock of burnished gold hair fell into his eyes and lent him a boyish look, not like that of the hardened wealthy recluse who’d insisted he’d never let her inside his heart and soul. That wounded man had vanished. The man above her in bed was fresh with passion and emotion. His hazel eyes were warm as honeyed chestnuts and his lips were just as sweet as he murmured sweet nonsense. Each time he pulled back, then moved into her again, it was like coming home. Frissons of pleasure began to radiate out from the point where their bodies connected. Her arms strained against the restraints, but he covered her completely and the skin-to-skin contact satisfied her need to touch him for now.

Heat rippled beneath her skin in response to each movement of his hips. Like a symphony, they moved in time with each other, finding a rhythm that spiraled them together down a road they’d both been afraid to travel. Sophie kept her eyes on him, memorizing the shadows and moonlight and the feel of his heart beating wildly against hers. He jerked, his pace suddenly more frantic, more desperate.

“Come for me, sweetheart, I’m not gonna last, I…” He cursed at the same moment her own body unleashed the wild passion that had been locked inside for years. It exploded out of her in every direction and a little cry of shock and delight escaped her trembling lips. Her body clamped tightly around his, clinging to him as he followed her over the edge.

They’d made love. It had been the most blindingly intense thing she’d ever felt. Emery dropped his head in the crook of her shoulder and neck, kissing her skin delicately. She shifted his semi-hard length still inside her. What they’d done…it could never be undone. What had she been thinking?

Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them back. Emery lifted his head and frowned. His brow knitted and he cupped her cheek.

“Was I too rough?”

She managed to shake her head.

“I meant to last longer, Sophie. I’m sorry I didn’t.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“No,” she distracted him. “It was fine, you were…” A smile teased her face. “You were the best I ever had…
will
ever have,” she added more quietly.

“And that’s worth tears?” He caught one stray drop by her cheek and wiped it away, rocking his body gently at the same time, and Sophie moaned. Her sheath continued to clench and quiver around him in the aftermath of the most devastatingly perfect climax ever.

“What will happen when we’re done? We have to go our separate ways, you know that. I will hate knowing I left this behind,” she whispered.

Emery’s face clouded with a dark emotion she couldn’t read, then it was gone and he lowered his head to take her mouth.

Right before his lips captured hers, he spoke again, “Hold on to this moment; don’t think about tomorrow. Just be with me.”

She surrendered herself, her heart and everything in her that she’d held secret all her life. He owned her and she couldn’t find the strength to care, not tonight.