Leopard's Rage (Leopard People 12)

She forced herself to meet his eyes. The things he said made her entire body flush with heat and he could see it. He could also smell her arousal.

“I will make certain you will know pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. I sound selfish, but if this wasn’t something you wanted or needed, we would not be doing it.”

She knew if they weren’t compatible, she would be one of those women in the club he walked away from and never looked back at, leopard or not. She still wasn’t certain what he intended to do after they had sex—if he intended to have sex with her after tying her. She nodded her head to show she understood, but she couldn’t have said a word if she tried.

“Tonight, I’m going to show you two different rope textures and what it feels like to be tied. I want to see how well you cope. Some people think they will like it and then reality hits when they realize they’re entirely at the mercy of the one tying them and they panic.”

She immediately got to her feet, her heart beating fast. She had wanted this for so long but now that the moment was getting close, she suddenly was becoming fearful and she wasn’t certain why. He had put a subtle emphasis on the word mercy and that mask he wore proclaimed he didn’t have much mercy in him. He had also said he would put her in a position until he chose to let her out of it. She wanted that, but it was a scary thought. Everything she wanted from him was frightening.

Flambé hurried to the master bath and closed the door behind her, leaning against it on unsteady legs. The room was enormous, with long double sinks and the coolest shower she’d ever seen in her life. It looked like something out of a movie, but she didn’t have time to examine it. She just hoped she could sneak in and use it sometime, just to see all the things it actually did behind all that glass.

She made certain she was clean everywhere and then realized she was stalling. She wasn’t going to let herself be so afraid that she missed her opportunity to try something she really wanted to do. As she re-entered the bedroom, she picked up the water bottle and drank from it. The cold water felt good on the back of her parched throat.

“I run the rope through my hands to make certain all the kinks are worked out and there are no splinters or anything that migh

t be uncomfortable against your skin. Unless I want you uncomfortable, and then I use my artwork to make you that way, or the texture of the rope and positioning of the knots. I am extremely careful. I always will tell you ahead of time.”

She had been fascinated by the way he ran the rope through his hands and he’d noticed. He pointed to the spot in the middle of the room again and she obediently went without hesitation. There was something comforting in knowing what was expected of her this time. She stood directly beneath the hook where she knew at some point, he might suspend her in the air like some flying object with his rope and knots. Just the idea of it was almost enough to send her soaring, her blood rushing, heated and wanton.

Flambé thought it was truly crazy how much she craved this. He circled her in complete silence, adding to her anticipation, to the dreadful need building in terrible waves inside her.

“I’m going to tie you with an easy halter first, Flambé. I want you to get used to the feel of the rope on your skin. There are different types of ropes and I use them for different purposes. I’m going to use cotton on you first because it’s soft and gentle on your skin. It has a high burn speed which means it has to run along your skin much faster before your skin blisters.”

He had once again stepped away from her and his face was back to that expressionless mask he normally wore. The rope slid through his hands, almost a caress, without him even looking at it, until he found the natural center and folded it in half. She found herself mesmerized by the slide of that rope through his fingers. By him. By the real Sevastyan, this man who controlled himself, his feral leopard, women and that rope so easily.

Flames seemed to dance up her thighs, small little tongues of orange and red, teasing at her nerve endings, flicking at her skin until she wanted to cry out with need. The burn between her legs grew hotter. Her nipples felt on fire, as if he’d pressed two burning matchsticks to them. He hadn’t touched her. She had no idea how or why she’d gotten so inflamed, so hungry for him so fast, but she couldn’t control her breathing.

He moved behind her and a moan broke from her when he touched her neck, his finger sliding over her pulse. “Shh, baby, you’re going to be fine. Give yourself to me.”

He ran his hand over her shoulders, a slow, very tender touch. His palm curled around the nape of her neck and slipped around to her throat, barely there, just resting, feeling her heart beating into his palm. It was the most intimate experience she’d ever had and yet he hadn’t touched any of the supposed parts of her body that were considered the “sex zones.”

She leaned into his hands. Into his body. She felt his strength. He was all male and he made her feel exactly how she wanted to feel, totally feminine and powerful in her femininity. There was beauty in her own strength, in the way she chose to submit to him. She wanted this experience with him. This man was so utterly arrogant and had every reason to be when it came to his skills. But . . .

He suddenly caught both hands and yanked them behind her back, folding one arm on top of the other decisively. The move was so unexpected she almost moved from the spot he’d told her to stay in, but at the last second she remembered to remain still.

She felt the rope slide over her skin almost lovingly, sending shivers through her entire body. His hands moved on either shoulder, running the lines simultaneously as he began to swiftly build a harness. At the same time, he leaned into her again, his warm breath in her ear. His teeth found her earlobe and bit down.

She yelped.

“All of you, Flambé. You’re holding back. Give me all of you. You’ve already got several indiscretions you have to answer for. Don’t keep adding to them.” He whispered the warning to her, all while his hands worked with absolute sureness.

She moistened her lips, wishing she didn’t understand what he was talking about, but in the back of her mind she hadn’t forgotten that he had enumerated her supposed sins as he’d taken her into his room. The two times she’d cancelled on him. The fact that she hadn’t told him she had seen him at the club. That seemed to be a very big one to him. He really hadn’t been happy about that and she couldn’t blame him.

The rope began to weave back and forth over her arms and breasts and under them, around her arms and then down the middle in intricate knots, both front and back. He worked fast, pulling the ropes tight and securing her quickly. She felt almost euphoric as he completed the halter. The knots were beautiful, straight down the valley separating her full breasts, the lines beneath them lifting them up while the ones over the tops delineated the curves artfully.

She ached for him. Burned. Her nipples jutted out at him invitingly. She’d never been so aware of her breasts as feminine and sexy. If this was art, it was erotic art. Sevastyan stepped back to survey his handiwork. His expression didn’t change as he circled slowly around her. It was a leopard’s prowl, one slow, almost freeze-frame stalk after another. She held very still.

When he returned to the front of her again, he used his foot to nudge her feet farther apart before retrieving the skein of rope he’d left on the bed. This was the rougher texture he’d mentioned earlier. He began running the rope through his hands absently while he returned to her in the same silence, with that same arrogant mask, the one that made her even hotter. This was how she had first seen him, so in control, so completely dominant.

He took his time before he moved close to her. He didn’t look at her face, but rather at her breasts. “You shouldn’t have missed your appointments with me, Flambé. That will not happen again. From now on, no one is more important in your life. No one. Nothing. You make certain you put us first always.”

He spoke in that same low tone. No inflection. No harshness. Just a soft decree. He reached out and gently ran his finger over her right breast, down her aching nipple, and then flicked it hard with his thumb and finger. Heat burst through her and she jumped. He bent his head and sucked her breast into his mouth. She cried out, her legs nearly giving out as pleasure washed over her. Just as abruptly he lifted his head.

“The matter of the club is a much graver offense. You didn’t know me before cancelling the appointments with me and I believe you thought you had good reason, so that is forgivable. You saw me at the club and you should have confessed to me immediately, especially after Shturm claimed Flamme. You knew you were wrong for that. Don’t speak. I don’t want to hear excuses.”

He stepped away from her and studied her body, the rope still moving through his hands. “This will be a very simple piece as well. Not telling me about the club is another matter altogether.”

He moved behind her and made a simple wrap around her hips twice. At once she could feel the difference in the texture of the rope. The halter was smooth and, although tight, felt nice against her skin. She needed tight. She liked firm pressure. This rope was prickly. Again, Sevastyan worked fast, the knots forming a thong, sliding between her cheeks, positioning perfectly, pulling tight and coming right over the hood of her clit to attach to the two ropes that circled her hips. He pulled the lines even tauter and she gasped as with every movement the knots rubbed and inflamed her body.