When I'm With You Part III Read Online Free PDF Page A

“When you stop it and submit, the time will have come.”
    He saw bewilderment shadow her features, but then her gaze met his. Her anxiety seemed to vanish. Slowly, she held out her hands to be bound.
    He exhaled. Her show of trust aroused him even more than the vision of her gorgeous body. He resisted an urge to touch . . . caress . . . consume . . .
    . . . possess completely.
    â€œYou’re going to restrain me with
pearls
?” she asked incredulously from above him a moment later as he began to twist the gems around her wrists.
    â€œIf you struggle or try to get your hands free, you might break the silk.” He glanced up into her now flushed face. “I find that something delicate can restrain better than metal if the wearer values what binds.”
    He determinedly focused on the task of looping the pearls around her wrists, making the long strand stretch snugly from lower wrists to forearms. Her thrusting breasts fractured his focus, trembling slightly as she breathed and he maneuvered the necklace. He could imagine in graphic detail how soft the skin of them would be sliding against his lips. When he’d finished restraining her wrists, he looked up at her face.
    She was exquisite, her skin gleaming more luminously than the pearls. Her scent filtered into his nose—clean, light, extremely feminine. Her eyes looked large in her pale face, but they grew wider when he reached up, unable to resist, and stroked the under-curve of her left breast. He watched the rosebud tip darken and tighten. Blood pulsed into his cock.
    For a second, a haze of lust fogged his vision, stealing his will.
    â€œLie down in my lap,” he murmured after he’d steadied himself. She complied without speaking. He guided her, taking some of her weight since her wrists were restrained. He noticed how careful she was of not stretching the silk and pearl bond and felt a stab of irritation.
    Who had given her the necklace? She clearly held it dear.
    Her skin felt like warm silk as he grasped one hip, holding her steady. The fingers of his other hand trailed down her back. He felt her ripple beneath his touch, mounting his lust. She settled in his lap, the sweet pressure of her body taunting his erection.
    â€œI didn’t tell you last time, but it gave me great pleasure to punish you,” he said, his hand flowing against her skin.
    â€œIt . . . it did?”
    â€œCouldn’t you tell?” he asked drolly. His cock lurched in arousal. She stilled beneath him and he knew she’d felt it. “Put your hands above your head,” he instructed. She followed his command. Sensing her nervousness, he stroked her until she softened a little, her flesh becoming more malleable beneath his hand. Feeling the deep knots in her muscles, he molded and rubbed.
    â€œYou really are a tight little knot. I will work this tension out of you one day. You are so stiff,” he said, listening to her soft, sexy moans as he massaged her back.
    He’d always instinctively had an understanding of muscle, innately comprehended how stress, trauma, emotional and physical pain was stored and carried in the flesh. He’d learned to read a horse’s tension from an early age by stroking muscle, seeing how an animal’s body language altered with strenuous exercise, soothing words, and a touch . . . a concisely applied swat of the crop. Later, he’d learned to read his lovers’ tension level, grew to understand how to build it with punishment, release it with an explosion of pleasure. . . .
    Never had he touched a woman as tightly strung as Elise. He rubbed her shoulders and heard her exhale in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He winced. So much pain she carried.
    â€œIs that better?” he asked, running his palm along her side, admiring her delicate rib cage and feeling her heart throbbing inside it.
    â€œI think so,” he heard her say.