Page 70 of Balthazar's Fire
Tears pricked in her eyes as she nodded.
“If you don’t want the ropes, then just say,” he soothed. “They’re meant only to heighten arousal, not to remind you of anything disturbing.”
“I do want them,” she mouthed. “I don’t want what we have to be wrecked by him.”
“Neither do I.” Anger knotted in his chest that Monroe’s name even had to be inferred, but Balthazar recognized it was important. She had been through so much and her assent was vital.
“Then let’s not allow him,” she breathed.
Shrugging away from Balthazar, she shuffled out of her leggings, socks and sweater, discarding them in a pile on the carpeted floor.
“Oh, really?” Balthazar folded his arms across his chest, playing down how bloody delightful she looked in only her underwear. “Are you sure it’s you who makes the rules here, pet?”
“No, sir.” Cherie’s smile widened as her gaze lowered to her feet. “I just wanted to show I’m willing.”
“Thank you.” His hand rose to her jaw and gently tilted her chin toward him. “I mean it, Cherie. Thank you for putting your faith in me.”
“Thank you, too,” she murmured. “For believing in me.”
Balthazar had intended for this moment to be visceral and carnal; a demonstration of his control over her sexual pleasure, and yet standing there in his bedroom, the affection swirling between them was far more intense. It was a hunger he’d never known, a desire far greater than only sex. In Cherie, he seemed to have found everything he was looking for, a woman who could be his equal, as well as ride his cock, and one who, if the gods permitted, might one day become the mother of his children. When he looked into her incredible green eyes, everything made sense.
“I always have,” he told her, suddenly aware that they’d been standing in silence. “Right from that first moment I laid eyes on you.”
Leaning into his hand, she sighed. “I’m so thankful.”
“Time to remove this.” He eased down her bra strap, taking the opportunity to kiss her exposed shoulder.
“Yes, sir.”
“And the other side.” Gesturing to her other arm, he waited as she tugged away the strap, revealing her incredible breasts. “Allow me.” Reaching around her, he unfastened her bra and threw it to join her clothes.
“Will you tie me like this, sir?” Placing her forearms together in front of her, she offered him her wrists.
“You’re doing it again,” Balthazar chastised teasingly. “Trying to top me from the bottom.”
“I’m sorry.” She laughed, though her wrists remained in place. “I think I’m just nervous.”
“I’d prefer the binds to be looser,” he explained, moving to the bed and collecting one long strand of black rope. “Only your wrists need to be tied, not your forearms.”
Her breaths were labored as he wound the rope around her wrists, and lowered them between them.
“That’s better.” Balthazar’s gaze bored into her as he motioned to the enormous bed. “Get on to the covers, pet.”
She dashed away without further encouragement, climbing onto the white sheets before turning to face him.
“Stretch out, arms above your head and spread your legs.” Balthazar growled the order, his hedonism ballooning as she obeyed.
“But, sir,” she gasped. “My panties?”
“Won’t get in my way,” he assured her. “When it’s time for them to go, I’ll take care of them.”
“Yes, sir.” Settling back against the bedding, her chest rose and fell as she waited for Balthazar to take what belonged to him.
***
Cherie
Cherie had never known a man like Balthazar, but it wasn’t only his protective streak, or the way he could morph into a dragon that set him apart; it was his skill as a lover. The previous men she’d taken to bed had been more than adequate, but she’d grown used to their pleasure taking precedence over hers, and had become reliant on her battery-operated boyfriend to offer the necessary relief.