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He was a stranger now. This raw, sexual part of him was something she’d never seen before. And it hit her, on the heels of the first thought, that this raw, sexual part of him was probably something no one but her had ever seen.
That it was probably something he’d never experienced, not when what he’d spoken of had been inexperienced couplings with prostitutes.
And she’d caused it to emerge.
Ajax was her dearest fantasy, her longest-held desire. He’d broken her heart, piece by piece for most of her life. With his obliviousness to her as a woman. The attention he gave to her sister. His engagement to her sister. His staunch refusal to show her any affection, any romance in their marriage.
And so right now, the need to have all of his attention focused on her, to be at his mercy, to be the subject of his dominance, was an answer to a fantasy that she couldn’t say no to.
Because in that moment, she saw it clearly. His need for the ties was a concession to her power. To her ability to shake his control.
She recognized the power in his need for her to submit.
No, Ajax would never love her. The disconnect between the man he was and the man she’d imagined him to be was a chasm so wide there was no bridge that could cross it.
But she could have this. Enjoy this. Why not? Why not at least get something out of this stupid obsession? These feelings that had done so much to define her life.
It felt like he owed her. In so many ways.
If she couldn’t have it all, if he couldn’t be the man she wanted, then maybe she could have this. She would have this. She would let him have total control, total command of her body, of her pleasure. She would have to stop protecting herself so much. Because there was no way to take everything he was giving if she was hiding behind a wall.
The reality that he couldn’t love her. That she shouldn’t love him...it should be protection enough.
She would take the pleasure he gave and she would keep it for herself.
She held her hands out in front of her. “Take me,” she said.
A dark light, like a black flame, flared in his eyes. He unwound the length of silk from his fists, slowly, achingly so. Then he started wrapping it around her wrists. Slow. Sensual. He made it tight, made it so she couldn’t move her hands. But she wanted the game. She didn’t need freedom. Didn’t want it. Not when captivity meant this.
“Tell me again,” he said, his hands moving, strong and sure, securing the knot.
“Take me.”
“Because?”
“Because I want you.” She knew he needed to hear that, even if she didn’t know why.
“On the bed,” he bit out.
She obeyed, sitting on the edge, her bound hands in her lap. He stroked her face with the back of his hand, along her jaw, slow, sweet. Possessive.
He moved his hands to the knot of her bikini top, and untied it in one deft motion before removing her bathing suit wrap, letting it fall to her waist, along with the top of her swimsuit.
She was bare to him again, but instead of looking shocked, he looked hungry.
“Do you want to see the sort of thing a man who hasn’t had sex in eighteen years is capable of?” he asked, his voice rough. “Do you want to see all that innocence you thought I had?”
And she knew he was going to make her pay for her comments on the beach. Make her pay in the best possible way. He lowered his head and drew her nipple deep into his mouth, sucking hard, and just like that, she couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
She wanted to close her eyes, to sink into oblivion where there was only this, this pleasure, this feeling that ran deep and hot. But she forced her eyes to stay open, forced herself to look at him. To see Ajax, her dearest, most long-held fantasy, pleasuring her like this.
But he wasn’t done. He abandoned her breasts and tugged her bathing suit cover down her thighs, getting onto his knees before her. Then he took her bikini bottoms and undid the ties, sending the scrap of fabric to join her wrap on the floor.
“Open your legs,” he said.
And she was powerless to do anything but obey.
He settled between her thighs, pressing a kiss to her sensitive skin. The first touch of his tongue was like fire, white heat licking along her veins, a gasp catching in her throat.
“Lie back,” he said, commanding, “and put your hands over your head.”
She followed his orders, putting her hands over her head, her legs dangling over the bed. Then he gripped her legs and hooked them over his shoulders, pulling her against his mouth. The onslaught of sensation, of pleasure ripped through her. She was desperate to touch him, but she couldn’t, her hands held captive, just as he held her soul captive.
