When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine 2)

“When I’m finished with you, you’ll have little doubt about how much I think of you. And know that everything I’m about to do to you I’ve thought about in vivid detail more times than I can count,” he growled softly before he leaned down and took her mouth in a scorching kiss. She kissed him back eagerly, her awareness eclipsed in entirety by his delicious taste and skilled, sensuous tongue, by the feeling of his hands massaging her breasts in a manner that struck her as firm . . . lascivious. He wasn’t treating her with kid gloves. He wasn’t harsh, by any means, but he was making his desire baldly evident. Had she really once thought that he was cold toward her? Ridiculous. He was rabid with lust. His control was just as strong, but tonight, he liberated it.

Sensing his naked, unmasked desire freed her own.

His mouth was hot and demanding on her neck. He took a small bite out of her shoulder muscle and she squirmed in arousal in her restraints.

“Keep still,” he soothed at the same moment that he gathered her breasts in his hands, pushing them together until the nipples were just inches apart. He ran his thumbs over both peaks, staring at her heatedly, before he scooted back farther over her thighs, leaned down, and slicked his tongue over both nipples.

“Oh!” she cried out sharply, her pelvis flexing upward, the action purely instinctual to alleviate the sharp stab of arousal that shot through her pussy. Her bottom came up several inches off the bed. Her thighs brushed against his heavy cock and balls. He continued to massage her breasts in his hands and lick and suckle her nipples. She watched, spellbound by the image of him sucking on the tip of one breast, then the other. She twisted against the delicious weight of his cock and moaned in a fever of lust, all the time distantly aware that she must be careful of her fragile bonds.

Still, she writhed in restrained bliss.

“Put your beautiful ass back on the bed or I will punish you,” she heard him say as if from a distance. The edge of his tone penetrated her arousal. She sunk back onto the bed, missing his heat and heavy, rigid cock. He continued to play with her breasts for the next several minutes, his actions deliberate . . . ruthless, driving her into a frenzy of excitement. Her nipples grew exquisitely sensitive and swollen with his relentless ministrations. By the time he inserted one deeply into his mouth and sucked hard, lightly pinching the other one, she was desperate.

“Oh, please. Please stop it, Lucien,” she moaned, grinding down her ass against the mattress. He’d been right before. She didn’t crave pain, but this sort of hurt was a heady rush. Despite her plea, he continued to suck and pluck at her nipples and squeeze her flushed breasts until she thought she’d scream. She thrashed on the mattress. “Oh, I’m going to come,” she muttered, sounding as incredulous as she felt. She didn’t know it was possible to come by having a man treat her breasts with such rough, sweet love.

“You don’t have my permission,” he said gruffly, his mouth less than an inch from an erect nipple. “You must be still. I’m preparing your breasts, making the nipples ready.”

“For what?” she asked in a strangled voice.

But he ignored her and continued with his task, sucking at her nipples until the cool lake wind had no effect on her fevered body. She grew mindless with excitement, twisting and moaning beneath him. She gasped in protest when he raised himself slightly, his lips damp and his expression rigid.

“You have to be the most sensitive, hot-blooded . . . irrepressible female in existence,” he muttered thickly.

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It is. You are going to break your pearls,” he replied curtly, his gaze flashing to her face. His expression softened. “It’s also a blessedly good thing.”

She smiled, panting softly, watching him dazedly as he grabbed for something on the mattress. It took her a moment to recognize the velvet pouch. It had slipped out of her lap when he removed her gown. She’d felt the weight of it earlier and knew there was something else in it besides the bracelets, but had been too preoccupied with Lucien’s lovemaking to comment on it.

Lucien tipped the bag and more sapphires and a platinum chain spilled into his large hand.

“Oh . . . it’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes glued to the unique piece of jewelry. He opened it and held it up for her avid gaze. The top part looked like it went around the neck—an exquisite necklace of filigreed platinum interspersed with dozens of gleaming, half-carat sapphires. She’d known she was correct about her assumption when Lucien knelt over her and looped the necklace portion around her throat, fastening it. The unusual part was the two chains that dropped vertically six or seven inches below the necklet. Another chain was looped between the two suspended metal ropes, and several sapphires were suspended from it.

“What is it?” she asked, bewildered as she watched him pinch a tiny, flexible loop that was attached to the chain.

“The necklace has a nipple chain attached. You can remove the chain and merely wear it as a necklace,” he explained. She moaned softly when he slipped a stiff nipple into the tiny loop. “I just have to twist this sapphire—like this—and the loop tightens.” Her eyes sprang wide when the metal loop narrowed, pinching at her nipple. Lucien studied her face raptly. “It should pinch, but not be unduly uncomfortable. Is it too much?” he asked quietly. “I can loosen the loop.”

She shook her head, too amazed and aroused to speak. She couldn’t stop staring at the erotic sight of her pink nipple surrounded by the metal loop. It was tight enough to create a focused, mild sting. The pressure and slight abrasion was highly exciting. She felt her pulse began to throb in her nipple. She experienced an overwhelming urge to feel more friction on the highly sensitized crest. Her breathing started to come erratically as she watched him attach the joined chain to her other nipple. When he was finished, the delicate chain hung in an arc between her nipples.