A tiny sun burned in the center of my chest. When she looked at me like this—like I was some kind of hero—the sensation was utterly foreign, too wonderful to be real.
But I was ravenous for more. I coveted my little lamb more than ever, and I’d do everything in my power to bind her closer to me.
Wrapping my arms around her, I carefully sat up, making sure both of us were steady enough to get to our feet. When my head didn’t swim too badly, I stood and offered her my hand. She grasped it immediately, accepting my support without hesitation.
The molten heat in my chest pulsed, filling my body with a warm glow. A wide grin split my lips as I led her to the far corner of my workshop, where I’d stored her gift.
We reached the huge, black canvas I’d draped over it, and I released her hand. Gripping the rough material in both fists, I kept my eyes locked on hers as I pulled it free to reveal what I’d made for her.
Her rosebud lips popped open on a gasp, and her hands flew to her heart, wrapping together as though in prayer.
“Oh, Raúl,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
She stepped beneath the arbor I’d fashioned for her out of black iron. Unlike my usual, bluntly crafted furniture, the piece was all soft curves and whimsical coils. The double arches that formed the frame were set three feet apart, held together with delicate, wide lattice work. I’d worked for hours to bend iron vines that crept and curled over the structure; a completely unnecessary addition.
When her dainty fingers traced the outline of a thin leaf of metal ivy, the soft sigh that left her lips changed my thinking. The frilly addition was the most necessary part of the entire piece.
“I thought you might like to put it in the garden,” I offered. “You can grow something new to climb and cover the arbor. Maybe some jasmine. Whatever you want.” I said the last with more weight. I wasn’t just talking about her flowers.
I would give Marisol absolutely anything to keep this awestruck light shining from her breathtaking face. Her features practically glowed like some otherworldly, unattainable being.
My hands closed around her waist, forcibly anchoring her to the earth, tethering her to me.
She turned to me with an incandescent smile and pressed her palm to my cheek. That tender touch locked me in place more effectively than manacles, binding me to her, just as I wanted to bind her to me.
“It’s perfect. The most perfect gift I’ve ever received. Thank you, Raúl.”
The open trust in her wide, shining eyes unleashed the hunger that’d been subdued by her sweet submission. A wicked fantasy that’d developed in lurid detail during the hours I’d spent hours crafting this piece surged to the forefront of my mind. I’d indulged in it as I’d worked, my thoughts consumed with Marisol, but I’d seemed like an impossibility; simply a perverted little scene for my private enjoyment.
Now, the need to make it real descended upon me like a maddening compulsion. I would have Marisol exactly as I wanted her, in the position I’d obsessively fantasized about for days.
She’d proven to me that she reveled in my power over her. She would love every second of her forced surrender.
“Stay.” I gave her waist a little squeeze to reinforce my command before I stepped away from her to get the items I needed.
She compliantly remained exactly where I’d placed her, directly underneath the center of the arch. Judging by her relaxed posture and the contented smile that curved her lips, my little lamb wasn’t remotely suspicious of my intentions.
Her complete lack of fear made the sun in my chest burn hotter, fuel for my savage hunger.
I reached the small counter set by the sink where I washed up after finishing a metalworking session. A clean, slightly rough white cloth was folded on the shelf, waiting for a much more perverse use than drying my hands. I found a pair of blunt-tipped shears in the drawer and made a small cut in the fabric. A little force from my fists ripped the cloth down the middle, leaving me with two strips that would be just long enough to suit my purpose.
When I returned to her, I tucked the shears into my back pocket, but I kept the cloth in one of my hands. Her gaze fixed on the stark white material wrapped ominously around my fist, her head cocked with curiosity rather than trepidation.
She didn’t edge away at my predatory advance; my prey waited for me to devour her, an innocent offering to sate my most vicious needs.
As soon as I entered her personal space, imposing myself on her, she tipped her head back to welcome my brutal kiss. My cruelly satisfied growl rumbled into her pliant mouth, rolling through her body in a delectable shiver.
Keeping her locked in my kiss, I captured her wrists and pulled them together in front of her. She barely tugged against my trap when I wrapped one strip of cloth around them, binding her.
I tore my lips from hers, and she sucked down the deep breath that I’d denied her.
Her lush lips were swollen from my assault on her mouth. She watched me with slightly glassy eyes as I pulled on the tie around her wrists, forcing her arms above her head.
A merciless, triumphant grin twisted my lips as I secured the loose end of my makeshift rope over the arched iron frame that surrounded us. Seeming to surface from a daze, her eyes tightened, and she tugged harder against her bindings.
But it was far too late for that, and she wouldn’t have had a hope of escaping my trap even if she’d struggled with all her might. My weak little lamb was helpless in my ruthless hands, utterly powerless to resist any depraved thing I wanted to do to her.
Something between a whimper and a moan caught in the back of her throat, a sound so delicious that it set my teeth on edge.
She wasn’t sobbing or screaming for release. Marisol was just as lust-drunk off our perverted power dynamic as I was. She’d been made for this. She’d been made for me.
I allowed her to writhe for several long seconds, drinking in the sight of my beautiful captive. As her predicament sank in, she fell deeper into my control rather than succumbing to panic. Her lips parted on little panting breaths, and each heaving expansion of her lungs made her cleavage strain against the structured bodice of her pretty lavender dress.
My mouth twisted in a wicked smirk, and I reached for the shears in my back pocket. Moving slowly, I raised them between us, allowing the light to glint off the steel blades. It caught in her wide eyes, flashing over them in a flicker of fear. When the blunted tips of the cold metal touched her heated skin at the little hollow between her collarbones, a shudder rolled outward from the tiny point of contact.
A high whine slipped between her lips, but she didn’t beg for me to relent. She thrived on the thrill of erotic fear, dancing at the dangerous edge with me.
I dragged the shears down her sternum, pressing a thin white line into her flesh that immediately flushed to dark pink. I would never cut into her golden skin, but the light scrape heightened her adrenaline response. She coiled tighter in her bonds, all her muscles tensing while she remained utterly still, forced to freeze beneath the threat of the blades.
My low, cruelly amused chuckle wrapped around her curvy body in dark tendrils, binding her in my will just as thoroughly as I’d bound her wrists to the iron arbor.
All my senses sharpened, focusing solely on my prey. She became the center of my world: my pretty Marisol; my precious possession to toy with as I wished.
When the tips of the shears reached her dress, I snipped the fabric, just as I’d cut the cloth ropes that held her at my mercy. Metal clattered against concrete as I dropped the blunt blades to the floor.