Shadow Reaper
Page 31

She was wrapped in a rope embrace now, firm on her skin. Wrapped in him. There was no separating the two of them, rope and master. With every breath she took, she breathed in his power. Every sure movement of his fingers on the rope, on her, was a revelation. She had never thought there was beauty in such a thing as being helpless. She had seen art in ropes on a human body but she’d never felt that beauty until this moment. She had never, not once, considered that for her, there would be something sensual about the feel of being surrounded and embraced by rope – but there was that, too.
Her body came alive, humming, vibrating, even purring. All the while her mind floated, drifted on sensual pleasure she hadn’t known existed – or that she was capable of feeling. A bright, hot flare exploded in the vicinity of her chest and spread like flames through her body, radiating outward from the ropes as he cinched her breasts tighter. The bite was scalding hot, so sensual her sex pulsed and clenched by turns. Close. So close. Her breathing changed again. Ragged. Panting. Her face was flushed. She could see herself in the mirror and she looked – sexy. There was no other word for it.
“Beautiful.” He breathed the word. “You are so beautiful, Mariko. I would like to photograph you now, if you’re comfortable.”
For the first time, she believed him. She saw it. She saw herself through his eyes, the way he had the first time she’d walked into the conference room. She saw what the camera would see. What the world would see if he shared this moment, but instinctively, she knew he wouldn’t. It was too intimate and just between them. Just for them.
She saw green against black, a harness that shaped her breasts and formed a beautiful star. Like the flower arrangements and paintings in Japan, his art had balance and perfect symmetry. The tension was even. There wasn’t a single twist in the rope. There was no pressure on her body and she knew instinctively she wouldn’t have a single bruise. There would be no abrasions.
She nodded her head, although she wasn’t certain she wanted the camera to capture her wanton need, the lust she saw in the mirror. The invitation to him. It was only for him.
“Mariko, I need your consent.”
It was the voice she had grown used to. Waited for. Found safety and pleasure in. It was always velvet over steel. Soft. Low. Commanding. His voice sent shivers down her spine and kept her nipples as hard as rocks. His hands went to her shoulders, steadying her, and she realized she was swaying. Her knees felt weak but she knew she wouldn’t fall because he was right there.
“Do you need a few minutes?”
He was holding her. She wanted to keep him there, but this was what she had agreed to. He’d more than kept his side of the bargain. She had no idea she could feel so protected. So beautiful. So cherished. He made her feel all those things. She could give him his art – and it was beautiful. She knew whatever she had to learn for future artwork would be far more strenuous, but now that she had a taste of it, she wanted to know it all.
“I’m good now. Just for a moment I was somewhere else.”
He smiled. “That’s good. That’s what I’d hoped. You’re supposed to feel that, Mariko. If you didn’t, this wouldn’t work for us.”
She felt his caution when he slowly removed his hands and allowed her to stand on her own. She smiled to let him know she was okay. “If you want photographs, then go ahead.”
“Are you comfortable enough to last in the ties? You’re in superb physical condition, something important for the longer and more strenuous ties.”
He was already getting his camera, adjusting the light so that she felt its white-hot glare. Even that made her feel sensual. Every movement of her body in the ropes sent those little subtle licks and bites over her skin. Unexpected pleasure.
Over the next twenty minutes he moved around her, getting pictures from every angle in the same meticulous and decisive way he’d tied her. He checked each shot before he put the camera down and was back, standing in front of her, his fingers on the ropes. She felt each tug and vibration traveling through her body, once again, the ropes an extension of him. Her skin, beneath the thin, tight suit, was so aroused as he slid each rope off that every nerve ending flared brightly with a shocking flame of sheer desire.
He took his time. His hands slipping the bindings, fingers whispering along with the rope over her nipples, under her breasts, between them. Caresses that sent heat sliding from breasts to her feminine sheath so that her sex clenched and stayed damp in need. He murmured to her softly in Italian as the ropes slid away, leaving her feeling more exposed than if she’d been naked, praising her, telling her how pleased he was with their session, how beautiful she was. How courageous.
She found herself exhausted, as if she’d run a long race, and she didn’t understand why. She worked out every single day. She trained hard. Still, she wanted to just collapse on the floor, but Ricco lifted her into his arms, and cradled her against his chest as if she were precious to him. He made her feel cherished beyond anything else.
He carried her to the single chair in the room, sank into it with her on his lap and reached for a bottle of water. “Drink this, Mariko. All of it.” He kept his arms around her, holding her when she thought she might fly apart.
That had been the problem. She’d been soaring too high, unfamiliar territory for her, and now that she was back on the ground, a little disoriented and exhausted, she wasn’t certain what to do.
“It was only a harness,” she whispered against his throat.
He kneaded her wrists, first one and then the other. “It was your first experience. I’m sure it was unexpected.” He inspected her wrists, hands and arms before beginning a slow massage on her shoulders and the nape of her neck. “I am so proud of you. I couldn’t have asked for more for your first time.” He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. Strands of her hair caught in the shadow along his jaw and even that felt sensual to her. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Scared. Excited. Exhausted.” She hesitated. It seemed silly to not admit what he already knew. “Turned on. Very.” She confessed it in a small voice.
“I was surprisingly turned on myself. As a rule I am quite controlled.”
He gave her that back and it made her feel better. She let herself relax totally into him, enjoying the feeling his strength gave her. She’d been alone so long, she hadn’t expected to want his touch, to need it, but she was fast realizing she craved it.
“Are you willing to take the next step with me?”
She turned her head to look at him. That beautiful, scarred face. “Next step?”
“Are you comfortable enough with me to wear more revealing clothes, or none at all, depending on what I’m looking for?”
Her heart thudded, the rhythm a little erratic. She started to turn her head away, afraid he would see that was exactly what she wanted, but she was afraid. Shadow riders didn’t show fear.