Page 65 of The Captive
I swept her into my arms, carrying her to my bedroom. She was light as silk, but I could feel the tension coiled in her muscles, seeking release.
"Wait here," I instructed, setting her down beside the bed.
I moved to my dresser, retrieving a silk scarf—navy blue, expensive, perfect for what I had in mind. When I turned back, Aoife was watching me with curious eyes.
"Give me your hands."
She extended her wrists without hesitation and I bound them with the silk, testing the tension. The material was soft but strong enough to hold her.
"Too tight?" I asked.
She shook her head, testing the bonds. "Perfect."
I lifted her bound hands above her head, securing them to the brass headboard. The position stretched her body into a graceful line—vulnerable and trusting.
"Still with me?" I asked, running my hands down her sides.
"Yes," she whispered, then gasped as I tore away the remnants of her nightgown, leaving her completely bare.
"Look at you," I murmured, my voice dropping to that register that made her pupils dilate. "So fucking beautiful. So perfect for me."
She arched into my touch as I explored her newly revealed skin, her breathing quickening when I traced her collarbone and pressed kisses to her throat, carefully avoiding Beatrice's mark.
"You're incredible," I continued, hands moving to cup her breasts. "These perfect tits, made for my hands, my mouth."
Her nipples hardened at my words, and I couldn't resist taking one into my mouth, and rolling the sensitive peak between my teeth.
"Alexander," she gasped, tugging at her bonds. "Please."
"Please what, beautiful?" I asked, moving to her other breast. "Tell me what my perfect girl wants."
The praise made her moan, her back arching off the bed. I filed that reaction away—she responded to being called perfect, beautiful, mine.
"Everything," she breathed. "All of you."
I worked my way down her body, pressing kisses to her ribs, her stomach. When I reached the juncture of her thighs, I looked up to find her watching me with hooded eyes.
"Spread your legs for me," I commanded. "Show me how wet you are for me, beautiful."
She obeyed without hesitation, revealing herself completely. The sight of her—bound, exposed, glistening with arousal—sent lust surging through me.
"Fuck, look at you," I breathed, settling between her thighs. "So wet, so ready. Such a perfect little cunt, all for me."
Her hips bucked at my crude words, desperate for contact.
"You like when I talk dirty to you, don't you?" I asked, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "When I tell you how perfect you are? How beautiful?"
"Yes," she whispered, then cried out as I put my mouth on her without warning.
She was already soaked, her body responding instantly to my tongue. I worked her with deliberate skill, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her clit.
"That's it, beautiful," I murmured against her slick flesh. "Let me hear how much you love this. Let me hear how good I make you feel."
Her hips bucked against my mouth, seeking more friction, but I controlled the pace, kept her suspended on the edge.
"Please," she gasped, pulling at her silk bonds. "Alexander, please, I need?—"
"What does my perfect girl need?" I insisted, adding two fingers to complement my tongue, curling them to find that spot that made her back arch.
