Page 125 of Bid For Me
“Good girl.”
The praise sends a rush of heat straight to my core, and I can’t stop the shiver that races through me, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small length of black silk.
“Turn around,” he says.
My breath catches, but I obey, my movements slow and deliberate. The air shifts as he steps behind me, his presence so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. He slips the silk over my eyes, tying it securely but not uncomfortably tight.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Elle?” His breath is warm against my ear, his hands ghosting over my arms but never touching.
“What?” I manage to whisper.
“Strength. Beauty. Desire. But most of all, I see a woman who’s ready to surrender.”
A shiver races down my spine. His hands settle on my hips, grounding me, but only for a moment.
“Stay still,” he orders, and I nod, my senses already heightened by the loss of sight.
The sound of his footsteps moving across the room is intoxicating. Each small noise – the rustle of fabric, the clink of something metallic – fuels my anticipation.
“You’ve kept yourself guarded for so long,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to anymore. Not here. Not with me.”
His hands skim up my sides, slow and deliberate, the heat of his touch bleeding through the thin fabric of my dress. I can’t see him, but I can feel his gaze, heavy and appreciative, raking over every inch of me. The softzipof the back of my dress fills the air, a sound so quiet, yet impossibly loud in the silence of the room.
There’s the softest intake of breath and then a beat of silence.
“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the shell of my ear, “how stunning you look right now?”
The dress loosens, slipping from my shoulders, the straps trailing down my arms. He doesn’t rush, letting the fabric fall in a slow cascade to pool around my feet. The air kisses my bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat simmering in his voice.
“God, Elle.” His words are reverent, almost a growl. “This is what you wore for me?”
I swallow hard, my senses on overdrive. “I thought you might like it.”
“Like it?” His hands trail down my arms, grazing the edge of the lace bra and panties I’d chosen, delicate black with subtle pink forget-me-not embroidery. “I don’t just like it. You’ve ruined me for anything else.”
The praise washes over me, warm and heady. I can hear the shift in his breathing, can feel the tension in the room thickening as his hands explore, gentle but firm, mapping every curve, every dip of my body.
“You’re exquisite,” he says, his voice deep and unwavering. “Every inch of you. I want you to feel it – how beautiful, how perfect you are.”
His fingertips trace the edge of my panties, and I can’t suppress the shiver that races through me. “Are you ready for me?” he asks, his voice both a demand and a promise.
“Yes,” I whisper, trembling.
The first touch of rope against my skin is unexpected and electrifying. Seb’s hands are careful and precise as he begins wrapping it around me, the rough texture contrasting with the smoothness of his fingers. He works in silence, the rhythmic pull and knotting of the rope grounding me in the moment.
“Every knot, every loop,” he murmurs, “is a choice. You can stop me whenever you want.”
“I won’t,” I reply, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice.
“Good.” His approval is a balm to my nerves.
When he’s done, the rope is snug but not restrictive, framing my body in a way that feels both vulnerable and powerful.
“Perfect,” he says, his voice thick with admiration. “You’re perfect.”
I feel the warmth of his breath before his lips graze the side of my neck. The kiss is soft at first, almost tender, but it deepens quickly, his teeth scraping against my skin, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me.
“Seb…” My voice is shaky, a mix of need and disbelief at how completely he’s unraveling me.