The Gilded Cuff Read Online Free PDF

him spank the hell out of her might not be the best way to earn his trust…
    Then again, maybe it would.
    I wish I knew what I was doing . She cursed inwardly. With men, she was always awkward and unsure of herself, and now her typical failings seemed magnified because he affected her too strongly.
    “Look, I’m sorry, but this whole scene just isn’t for me. I shouldn’t have come here.” She edged toward the door. Maybe if she got far enough from the bench, he’d forget about punishing her and she could talk to him about the abduction. If he thought she was scared enough to leave, he might back off in his determination to spank her and she’d have her chance to speak.
    Emery sidestepped, blocking her access to the exit. She saw the outline of well-defined muscles; he was much bigger and stronger than she was. To her sheer humiliation, something inside her started to purr with delight at the thought of that strength and size directed at her, for her protection and more importantly, her pleasure.
    He placed a hand on the side of her neck where it connected to her shoulder. His thumb moved slowly back and forth against the base of her throat, as though questing for the frantic drum of her pulse. His lips moved, flirting at the tips with a smile.
    She couldn’t take much more of this. If she didn’t get away, she’d let him take her over to that bench and she’d surrender to him. That couldn’t happen.
    “Please, let me leave.” Her tone, thankfully, sounded stronger than the whimpering inside her which begged to stay, to let him bend her over the bench and do wicked things to her.
    “If you want out, say your safe word.” His sharp tone was edged with a challenge. Something deep inside her responded.
    She knew enough of D/s relationships to know that subs weren’t powerless; surrendering to a dom was their choice, one that had to be based on trust. Emery’s challenge for her to surrender was tempting, too tempting if she was honest with herself. She’d never wanted to surrender to a man, but the idea of willingly letting one overpower her? Her thighs clenched together, her sensitive nerves inside jumping to life. Could she give in? Gain power by giving him power?
    “I’m waiting for your answer.”
    When Sophie hesitated, Emery threaded his fingers through the black satin ribbons that laced the front of her corset. He tugged one bow’s string with careless ease, so at odds with the cool, dispassionate expression on his face as he began to loosen the laces and peel her corset apart. A haze of heat settled over her skin and fogged her mind. Sophie prayed he’d keep going, would pull her corset open like they were in some torrid romance novel, and bend his head to her breasts to…
    His fingers caressed the tip of the folded up photo. She jolted back, the memory of where she’d tucked his photo slamming into her. He couldn’t see it; he’d never understand. Emery’s hand shot out, caught her wrists, and lifted them above her head. In a move as smooth as the steps of a slow dance, he maneuvered her back against the wall by the door. One thick, muscled thigh pressed between hers, and he kept her wrists trapped above her. His other hand moved back to her corset, dipped between her breasts and retrieved the photo. His thumb and index finger deftly unfolded it and the wide-eyed interest of natural curiosity on his face morphed to an expression of narrowed suspicion.
    He released her wrists, stepped back several feet and stared at the image in his hand. He was so still he could have been carved from marble — his eyes dark with horror, his tanned skin now alabaster white.
    A long moment later he drew a deep measured breath and raised his eyes to hers.
    “Where did you get this picture?” Each word seemed dragged out between his clenched teeth. He changed before her eyes, the prince transforming into a beast. Wounded rage filled his eyes, morphing with the promise of vengeance.
    The pit of her stomach