When I’m with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(77)
Author: Beth Kery

“Give me that,” he demanded softly, reaching for the soap in her hand.

“But I was washing you,” she protested a moment later when he lathered up her back with large, soapy hands.

“I’m clean enough,” he murmured. He firmed his hold on her waist and slid her higher up his body, her legs straddling him and her face just inches from his. So she was looking directly into his eyes when he matter-of-factly slid a finger between her ass cheeks.

“Lucien?” she whimpered when he touched her anus with the tip of his finger, rubbing against the sensitive area firmly.

“Hush,” he soothed before he penetrated her with the warm, slippery finger. Her mouth fell open and she gasped against his lips and the foreign invasion. Beneath her, she felt his cock lurch next to her skin.

“It feels . . . odd,” she whispered dazedly. “Do you have to do that?”

A small laugh fell past his lips. “Yes. I suppose I do,” he replied as he began to slide his finger in and out of her asshole. It felt shamefully good having him touch her so intimately while he watched her every reaction so closely. Her cheeks flamed with a strange mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

“And I suppose I have to let you,” she said. “Because I’m your slave for the night?”

“That’s correct.”

He used his other hand to push her face down to him. He kissed her for several minutes passionately while they lay in the hot water and he continued to thrust his finger in and out of her. It felt almost unbearably intimate to her . . . untenably exciting. By the time he sealed their kiss she was panting softly and her sex was aching and ready.

“Finish washing up and get out of the tub,” Lucien said next to her mouth. She moaned softly when he withdrew his finger from her ass. She began moving her hands over his slick body hungrily, but he caught her wrists. “Do as I say,” he said, his voice soft but with an edge to it that matched the hard glint in his eyes.

She washed cursorily and left the tub, reaching for a towel. She watched in the large vanity mirror behind her as Lucien, too, finished washing and rose from the water like a gleaming, rippling god.

“I’ll finish up in my dressing room,” he told her a moment later as he stood next to her, the vision of him with the white towel draped low across his hips distracting her. “Don’t get dressed yet.”

“Why not?” Elise asked, forcing herself to look away and tucking the towel between her breasts.

“Because I will choose what my slave wears for dinner,” he said, his tone implying his reasoning couldn’t have been more obvious. He responded to her incredulous glance with a small smile before he left the bathroom. Elise could tell from that knowing look that he had something in mind—the devil’s work, no doubt.

When he knocked and reentered the bathroom ten minutes later, she’d tamed most of the damage caused by the humidity of the bath to her hair and applied her makeup. She glanced around in interest at the sight of Lucien looking drop-dead gorgeous in a dark gray suit that had been perfectly tailored to his tall form; a cuffed white shirt; and a black, white, and silver tie. She rotated on the vanity stool she sat on when she saw he carried one of her blouses. He draped it over a second vanity stool and turned to her.

“Stand up, please,” he said.

She rose slowly, a little mystified by his manner, a little wary . . . increasingly excited. He reached for the edge of the towel she still wore and tugged. She stood before him naked. The smell of his cologne filtered into her nose and she inhaled deeply. It wasn’t until then that she saw he held the black velvet bag in his other hand.

The black velvet bag.

“Lucien . . . you’re not going to make me go out in public wearing those . . .” She faltered when he withdrew the exquisite necklace, and then the attachable nipple chain.

“Yes,” he said simply as he put the necklace around her throat, the metal and jewels feeling cool against her heated skin. He set the velvet bag on the counter and placed the nipple chain on top of it. Her confusion mounted as he sat on the vacant stool and put his hands on her waist, pulling her between his long, spread thighs.

“But . . . people will see, won’t they?”

“You must trust that I wouldn’t expose or humiliate you,” he said, his gaze fixed on her breasts. He looked up at her. “You do, don’t you?”

“Yes, but . . . Lucien,” she exclaimed in surprise when he inserted a nipple into his warm, wet mouth and began to lash at her with his tongue. Liquid heat surged at her sex, as if he’d demanded the wholesale reaction with his sucking mouth. She clutched onto his head and moaned in sharp pleasure spiced with just a dash of pain for the next minute as he moved his head back and forth between her breasts, making her nipples stiffen and redden.

She was so wet by the time he moved back his head, she might as well not have bathed. He picked up the nipple chain and methodically attached it to the necklace. Her mouth went dry when he slipped the loop between his fingertips and shaped it around her swollen nipple. She moaned shakily. He twisted the sapphire bead, narrowing the loop, as he watched her face closely. When she winced slightly, he stopped.

“Can you handle that?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. The pinch was abrasive on the sensitive flesh, but the sensation was a highly erotic one as well; one that she couldn’t escape. She truly would be a slave to the experience all night . . . a slave to Lucien and her desire to please him.

He attached the chain to her other nipple and stood, his gaze glued to her breasts. Unlike last night, this time Elise could see herself in the mirror. Even she had to admit that the jeweled combination of the necklace and nipple chain was stunning to behold. As in all things, his taste was immaculate. Her clit twanged with arousal. She experienced an almost overwhelming desire to touch herself, to rid herself of this plaguing ache.

Lucien picked up the white blouse and held it up for her to put on. She met his stare in amazement.

“That’s a sheer blouse. I can’t go out in public without a bra and camisole on under it . . . let alone wearing this thing,” she said, pointing to the swaying nipple chain.

“I told you I wouldn’t expose you. You will wear a jacket and button it until we are alone together. No one will know.” He jerked up the blouse an inch, a hard look on his face. She had no choice but to turn and slide on the blouse. He buttoned it for her. When he reached the button covering the sapphire weights on the chain, she gasped at the tug on her nipples.