Bound by Bliss (32 page)

A low laugh, but his eyes did not reflect the humor. “Yes, I have noticed your hips. The way you walk no man could miss them.”

She smiled, wondering if the questions were over.

He reached out and took the hand that rested on his chest. “And do you wish children?”

“Yes—although sometimes I fear the pain and loss that can come for either parent or child. I do remember how my mother mourned the babies that did not survive. I am not sure that I have such strength with in me.”

“I think you have more strength than you know, Bliss. And I also think you risk far more by not having children than by having them. You have so much love in you and it needs a place to go. Think of all the love your mother did have. Would her life have been better without it?”

“You know I cannot answer that. How can anyone ever know what another experiences?”

“You are trying to avoid answering. Do you think your mother would have been happier without love?”

Bliss shut her eyes, but against her will her mind swept back to her mother dancing on the lawn, her circle of children about her, her eyes lifting to stare across at the duke, the love apparent in their mingled gaze. It was one of the best memories of Bliss’s life, a moment that clearly marked how perfect life had been.

Would her mother have ever given that up? Chosen to leave it behind?

No.

The single word reverberated through her thoughts.

No.

Her mother would never have chosen to leave that behind. Her mother had clung to love and family with all she had, even in the darkest of moments.

“I want children and not just to have an heir,” Duldon’s words intruded on her thoughts. “I cannot imagine a marriage without them. Although if God chooses not to bless us, then…”

Us. They were back to discussing marriage, their marriage. Why did it always come back to that? Why could he not be happy with what they did have in this moment? “I have discussed this long enough. I cannot believe that my feelings will change.” Although deep down she was beginning to fear they were already changing. It was hard to remember that dancing circle and not wish it for herself, no matter what came after.

She pushed the thought away. That was not why she was here. She turned her lips into a pouting smile. “Don’t you wish to play anymore? You are wasting time with all this talk.”

He held her glance, his face solemn. “The time is coming when I will no longer be content with play. I want more.”

“Don’t sound so disgruntled.” She refused to allow a return to seriousness. “I am sure you would happier if you had allowed me time to play. I think you would be much more satisfied then.”

A deep laugh rumbled in his chest, this time truly genuine. “Yes, a straining cock does not put a man in the best of moods. And you are a demanding kitten. I will have to work hard to keep your claws sheathed.”

“I admit I’ve never been good at doing what is expected. I have never liked to wait for my dessert.” She licked her lips and smiled, trying to go back to where they had been before their conversation began.

She felt him give in as he lay back upon the bed. “You are lucky you never attended school. We were forced to line up every morning with our toes upon that mark. There was no room for changing the rules about.”

“I imagine that you were always the first one there, ready to follow orders.”

“You might be surprised.”

She perused his long form as it lay beside her in the bed, strong and so very naked, and so very aroused even after these moments of quiet. “I just might be. Are you going to grant me a feather?”

Chapter Twenty-two

Duldon spread his body across the bed, crossed his fingers behind his head, and stared down at Bliss. He might be willing to let her play, but there was a limit to how much control he was willing to give up. He would grant her a feather, or two, but he intended this game to proceed as he desired.

Bliss had revealed more to him than he had honestly expected and he knew he needed to give her a moment of retreat, a moment to find herself again. And he couldn’t say he minded letting her have her fun.

He rather expected that he’d find the experience quite satisfactory.

His Bliss had some natural talent, talent he had dreamed of, but not truly expected.

A tentative hand brushed across his abdomen and he glanced down at her. She grinned back, her seriousness and dark thoughts put away. She might still be a little shy, but vitality and life filled her. Her joy was rarely hidden.

“Black or white?” she asked.

“Definitely white to start,” he answered, smiling at her in return.

Lifting the drooping white feather, she let the strands play across his belly. His muscles tensed and rippled, but he made no other motion. She repeated the gesture, letting the tendrils trail farther down until they brushed against his dark blond curls. His cock jumped, straining for her touch.

He stared up at the mirror above, trying to calm his body, to maintain his control. It was a mistake. The mirror captured the perfect curve of her ass, the nipped-in waist, the hint of those areas he had so recently explored.

He closed his eyes—and was immediately lost in sensation as she swept the feather across him again, and then again. Blast, not seeing was worse than seeing. When the world was black all that was left was to feel. It was why he had blindfolded her.

He opened his eyes.

His fingers curled as he fought the urge to grab her hand and stop her. If she could withstand his teasing he could certainly withstand hers. And he would not beg, of that he was determined.

“I love watching how your skin moves, how you respond to each touch,” she said. “I never knew so much of the body was sensitive.”

Another brush of the feather, lower than the last.

“Yes, almost any part can be erotic if regarded as such.” He hoped his voice did not reveal the tight knots she was tying him in.

“I begin to wish I had let you play first.”

He wished he were playing with her now. He had known this would be torture, but not how far his limits would be stretched. He glanced back down at her.

“I do wonder what the feather feels like.” She met his gaze, and with slow, deliberate motions let the feather sweep across her own nipple. She bit her lip as the rosy peak played hide-and-seek between the barbs of the feather, the soft white down caressing her flesh. “I like it. I can pretend that it is your touch. It is very different than when I touch myself and feel with both my hands as well as my breast.” Her other hand rose and cupped the other breast, the fingers spreading to enfold the reddened nipple.

His hips rose at the sight. She didn’t even need to touch him and his body reacted as if her lips were upon him. The simple sight of her hand upon her breast was almost enough to send him over the edge. Sucking in a calming breath, he fought for his control. “Try the feather on my thighs. I think you will like the results.”

Her eyes widened, and her face lifted to him.

Did she understand the game they played, the subtle fight for mastery? He might be granting her the time to explore, but his rules still applied.

Bliss took the feather and ran it from knee to hip, her eyes dancing each time his muscles shook.

Yes, she did like that.

Moving the feather to the inner thigh, she bit down on her lip as his body responded in the expected manner. His nails bit into his palms as the tip of the feather brushed the base of his balls. His eyes would have rolled back in his skull if he had allowed them.

Moving her body over the sheets, Bliss moved to settle herself between his legs, her whole focus on his cock. Her eyes glittered and her lips parted. He could see the hunger within her and knew that no matter how great, it was only a fraction of that which rose in him. With studied concentration she took the firmer black feather and traced a line just at the base of his sack.

It took everything he had to keep up any pretense of relaxation. “Run the edge of the feather along my length. Yes, again.” His entire body was one tight muscle of want, the focus on that single fraction of skin where the feather ran. A drop of cum leaked from him and settled on the tip.

Bliss licked her lips, her focus tight, and leaned forward.

“No.” He said the word sharply, leaving no room for question. “I want your hands on me.”

She peered at him from under her lashes, questioning.

He was not used to explaining, but for Bliss he would. “It will be over too fast if your lips touch me. Even the thought of your hot, wet mouth has me ready to come in an instant.”

“And that is a problem?” Her voice rang with genuine curiosity.

“Yes, that is a problem.”

“But I want to see you come. I want to watch every second of it.”

He could grant her that. “Only if you do exactly as I say.”

—

Do exactly as he said? It always seemed to come back to that. Every time Bliss complied she could feel the pleasure that filled him—and therefore her—and yet he did not seem to object when she chose her own path. Well, perhaps he objected, but he enjoyed the fight. He was a contradiction, one she could not quite puzzle out.

Which led her to wonder…

“And what exactly would you like me to do, oh exalted master?” She tried to hide the laugh that lurked deep in her throat as she spoke the words.

“Why do you call me that?” His voice was suddenly hoarse, his body growing stiff beneath her touch.

“Master?”

“Yes.” He sounded more abrupt than she had ever heard him, even after he’d discovered her torn bodice.

“I thought it was cute.” Had he not heard the humor in her voice?

“Cute? You thought it was cute to call me master?”

She placed a hand on each of his thighs, letting the feathers fall to the bed. “Yes. I thought it was cute. Are we really going to have an argument because I made a joke? Surely you must realize that you are a rather bossy man.” She licked her lips and stared at him, daring him to comment.

“I am not sure that I’ve ever heard the word ‘bossy’ applied.”

She raised a brow, and then with slow deliberation let her tongue flick out, removing the drop of moisture from the tip of his cock.

The muscles in his chest flexed, his lips tightened, but he made no comment.

“What is it that you wished me to do? You know I am here only to serve,” she said, sweet and demur.

His gaze sharpened and then the tiniest hint of a smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “I would like you to take the oil and pour a small amount on my belly, and then I would like you to rub it in, slowly moving lower until you reach the base of my cock, circle around my shaft, and lightly, using only the tips of your fingers, work it into my balls. Do not touch me with anything except your fingertips. I want only the lightest, breeziest of touches. And do not stray from what I have requested.”

“Bossy,” she mouthed, but did not let a whisper of sound escape. Rising up on her elbows, she leaned over him, letting the peaks of her breasts brush against him, as she reached for the oil. She waited to see if he would comment.

He did not, but again his lips curled as if he knew something she had not yet realized. Should she ask? She wanted to, but asking would reveal that she could not read him as he read her. Trailing her nipples back across him, she returned to kneeling and poured a small puddle of oil into her hand. Cool and sweet, the scent filled her nostrils. Rubbing her hands together, she allowed the oil to warm.

“Do you need to be disobedient?” Stephan questioned.

“I suppose that I do,” she replied, placing her oiled palms upon him just below his navel.

“I cannot decide if you are merely obstinate or are trying to give me an excuse to punish you.”

“Would you punish me simply because I poured the oil on my hands and not on your belly?” She moved her hands, pressing deep into his skin, up and then down to his sides, enjoying the slide of his skin and the subtle changes in texture.

“You know that is not really the point.”

Yes, she did. Her mind stopped there. She would have liked to pretend that it was because she was so overcome by the sensation of him, but deep in her heart she knew better, knew she was once again avoiding confronting what she truly felt. “I just want to concentrate on this, on how I feel right now. I don’t want to think. Cannot this night simply be about tonight?”

“Will you marry me, Bliss?” Stephan’s voice growled, and the words seemed to fill the room.

The question caught her by surprise, no warning, no clue that it was coming.

She wanted to answer carelessly, to joke or act coy, but the words would not come. “No,” was all she could say, her throat closing so that even the one syllable was hard to speak.

“Why? I still do not understand why you are so resistant.”

Duldon watched as his simple question hit her face as if hitting a wall. He could see it penetrate, and yet see the denial that marked her features.

“Why do you ask? What does it matter? And I thought that was what we just talked about, my avoidance of love and the pain it might bring? And why ask now in the midst of our play? You already knew my answer.” The words that had been halted a moment before now rushed to her lips. Her hands grew still upon him.

His body still screamed for more, screamed for satisfaction, but his mind took control, pushing all other thoughts back.

“I ask because it is now. You want this to go forward between us and yet you will not be honest with me. I am growing impatient. You know what I want and yet you seek to play with me.”

She drew herself up. “You knew what I wanted, what I was willing to give. Yes, this is a game, but I believe you set the rules.”

Were they at that moment? He feared that they were. “That may be true, but I think your actions, if not your words, indicated that you wanted more than you now pretend.”

“I have told you I do not want love in a marriage. We have just finished that discussion.”

It was time to push for more. “What is really preventing you from giving me the answer I want, Bliss? What have you held against me for all these years, that even now prevents honesty between us? Why am I worse than any other man of your acquaintance?”