I eye the scarves warily. “Define ‘new.’”
Soren laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Trust me,” he says, sitting beside me on the bed. “You’ll feel things you never imagined.”
“Okay,” I say finally. “But stop if I say stop.”
“Always.” His expression turns serious for a moment. “Your pleasure is the point, Rose. The scarves are just extra.”
He guides me to lie back on the bed, then takes one of the scarves and wraps it gently around my wrists, binding them together above my head. The silk is cool and smooth against my skin.
“How does that feel?” he asks.
“Fine.”
Soren’s smile turns wicked. “It gets better.”
He takes another scarf and drapes it over my eyes, not quite blindfolding me but dimming my vision enough to heighten my other senses. Then his hands are on me.
“The secret,” Soren murmurs, his mouth close to my ear, “is anticipation.”
His touch is feather-light, skimming over my skin in unpredictable patterns. I never know where he’s going to touch next, and it makes every contact intoxicating. He’s using his incubus abilities, I realize, reading my responses, knowing exactly when to back off and when to push further.
“You’re so responsive,” he says, his voice thick with approval as I arch into his touch. “So beautifully open to pleasure.”
His mouth replaces his hands, trailing hot kisses down my body. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he pauses, his breath warm against my most sensitive spot.
The first touch of his tongue makes me gasp. He’s skilled, that’s undeniable, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure without any guidance from me. I strain against the scarves binding my wrists, not truly wanting to be free but needing something to push against as the pleasure builds.
“Let go,” Soren encourages between licks. “Give yourself over to it.”
And I do, surrendering to the sensations he’s creating. The combination of the restraints, the semi-darkness created by the scarf over my eyes, and his expert attention brings me to the edge faster than I would have thought possible. When I come, my whole body shakes.
But Soren isn’t done. Before I can fully recover, he’s positioning himself above me, entering me with one smooth thrust that has me gasping all over again.
His hands are everywhere, twisting my nipples, thumbing my clit, cupping my ass. I can’t see what he’s doing, so I simply experience it, all my other senses heightened.
I can feel another climax approaching, building faster and higher than the first. Soren seems to sense it too, adjusting his angle slightly, and suddenly I’m there, crashing over the edge with a cry that’s almost a sob.
He unties me and removes the blindfold from my eyes. When I adjust to the light, I see Lucien standing beside me, his erection obvious.
Forty-Five
“Drink,”he commands, holding a glass of water to my lips. It’s such a Lucien thing to do.
Once he’s satisfied I’ve had enough water, he begins to undress. There’s something incredibly erotic about his orderliness, about the controlled way he reveals himself.
When he’s naked, he joins me on the bed, immediately taking charge. “On your hands and knees,” he instructs.
I comply without hesitation, the awareness of the kind of view the other men are getting only serving to turn me on more.
“Fuuuucck.” I hear Soren groan.
Lucien positions himself behind me, his hands firm on my hips.
“You’ve been so good,” he murmurs, rewarding me with a gentle caress down my spine.
He enters me slowly, deliberately, giving me time to adjust to the fullness. Unlike with Drake and Soren, where I either directed or surrendered to experimentation, with Lucien it’s clear from thatstart that he leads, I follow, finding a different kind of freedom in his control.
“Perfect,” he praises as I arch my back, taking him deeper. “So perfect for me.”
