Because We Belong (Because You Are Mine #3)(84)
Author: Beth Kery

His rightful place.

He used his free hand to touch her, relishing restraining her supple body in the taut arch, knowing she was his to do with as he pleased, all because it was her pleasure as well. She was a decadence he couldn’t believe he deserved, but he must, because her eagerness was inescapable. His cock swelled at the sensation of the taut lines of her back and ribs, the delicious round, firmness of her breasts beneath the fitted button-down shirt. He filled his hand with her, absorbed her soft moan into his mouth, felt her heat begin to resonate from her sex against his belly. His cock reared almost furiously.

He hissed and broke their kiss, releasing his hold on her wrists. Taking a step back with a goal in mind, he paused abruptly at the vision she made. Her lips were dark pink, damp and parted, her cheeks flushed. Her dark gold, red-tinted hair fell in loose waves down her back and arms. Her dark eyes shone with lust and love, her gaze like a steamy blessing.

He strode rapidly to the edge of the room, where there was a wooden bench. Ian thought it once might have served the purpose of being a location for placing shoes and slippers, but the lowness of the seat was what he wanted for his purpose. He lifted it and rapidly carried it to where Francesca stood, watching him silently. He set it down, his gaze once again glued to her luminous face and pink, lush lips.

She really was here.

“Sit,” he rasped. The bench was much lower than a normal chair, so when she sat she was at kneeling level.

“I don’t like to think of you kneeling on that disgusting carpet,” he muttered, holding her stare as he fleetly unfastened his button fly. Her nostrils flared slightly as her gaze lowered over his abdomen to his crotch. He grimaced as he pulled his heavy erection free of his underwear and pants.

“No,” he said when she immediately reached for him, her small hand tempting him, making his voice harsher than he intended. “I’m going to restrain you.”

He hadn’t unpacked, preferring for some reason to live out of his suitcase while he was at Aurore than to put his clothing in the closet and drawers, like a regular resident would. He found the tie he’d worn to the press conference and went behind Francesca. His cock jerked in the air when she immediately put her wrists behind her back. He knelt behind her, letting the tie fall to his knee, and moved her rose-gold hair aside to kiss her fragrant neck.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured thickly as he began to unbutton her blouse, referring to her readiness to be bound, her insistence upon being there with him . . . everything. “I used to think I was taking advantage of you because you always gave yourself so freely, but you truly want to, don’t you?” he asked, his lips moving on her tender skin. He opened the placket of her shirt, his hands immediately seeking out her warm, satiny-smooth skin. He groaned at the sensation.

“Yes,” she whispered harshly. His fingers slipped over the front of her bra, and he grunted in satisfaction when he felt the front clasp. He opened the garment, spreading the cups back over her breasts.

“Yes,” she added emphatically when he filled his hands with the bounty of her bare breasts, shaping them to his palm, massaging them, pinching the plump nipples, glorying in her flesh. He watched over her shoulder, spellbound by the sight of his large hands on her full, soft breasts.

“Arch your back again,” he ordered softly near her ear. He salivated when she did as she was told, her spine curving, the mounds of her breasts rising. He pulled her shirt and bra down over her upper arms and left them. She was bound by the garments, but it pleased him to restrain her wrists as well, so he did so quickly with the silk tie.

Her hair was scattered on her shoulders when he walked around to the front of her, her bare breasts heaving. She kept her back arched, displaying herself without a trace of the embarrassment she might have shown in the same act even a year ago. Her eyes glittered with excitement when her stare lowered to his cock protruding from his fly.

His hands itching to touch such a flagrant display of erotic beauty, he leaned down and stroked the sides of her ribs, feeling her shiver. He squeezed her breasts into his hands, knowing just what she liked—a little rough, a little sweet, greedy, and even lewd. He slapped the side of one breast lightly, watching as she bit her lush lower lip to stifle a moan.

“You’re mine,” he said.

“Yes.”

He bent and ravished her mouth with his, continuing to stimulate her breasts, squeezing them together and finessing the nipples until she moaned feverishly against his stabbing tongue.

“Your mouth is so hot,” he muttered, straightening. “This is going to feel so good.” Without another word, he arrowed the fat, tapered head of his cock between her lips. She clamped around him immediately, sucking him deeper. He grimaced in pleasure, pulsing his hips, enjoying the sight of his cock stretching her pink lips and her dark eyes gazing up at him, so radiant . . . so giving . . . so helpless.

She had always been willing to accept her helplessness when it came to this thing between them. Why hadn’t he?

He growled in pleasure at the sensation of her pulling at him, tempting him deeper. He’d first taught her how to perform fellatio when she was bound, and he continued to have a preference for it thus, even now. She knew the only way she could control the act was with the movement of her head and her strong suck, and now he took away the former, gripping the hair at the back of her head so that she couldn’t drive him mad with her bobbing. It left only her suck, and she used what resource she had to perfection, making him snarl, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“There. Is that what you want?” he said roughly as he began to pulse his hips, fucking her mouth shallowly, sparing her throat. She almost imperceptibly nodded, her gaze never wavering from his face as he looked down at her. He continued to hold her immobile, using her for his pleasure, plunging his cock between her rigid lips. She sucked determinedly, her nostrils flaring. He gasped at the delicious sensation of the soft side of her cheeks brushing his stabbing cock.

They maintained eye contact as he carefully breached her throat. She shuddered, but quickly stilled herself. God, it felt divine.

He grunted gutturally and slid his cock out of her. She said nothing when he turned and hurried to the bathroom, coming back with a towel and a bottle of lubricant. He’d washed the towels when he arrived, so he knew they were clean. He’d washed the sheets, too, but the bedding itself was dusty and moth-eaten; it was only a matter of time before the sheets grew befouled. Francesca shouldn’t come into contact with that bedding.