“Good girl,” he murmured and then he took hold of her right wrist, fastening the leather cuff around it. A silver link on one side folded out from the warm brown leather. The furry insides of the cuff were soft and she knew it would be hard to bruise herself in them. Wes bent and reached under the bed for something she couldn’t see. It clinked as he removed it.

A small chain.

Her mouth dried and her thighs quivered with forbidden longing.

He clicked a hook to her right wrist’s cuff and then chained it to the bedpost.

“Pull on the chain,” he instructed.

Callie gave a little tentative tug. Satisfied, he moved around the room and secured her other wrist the same way. Then Wes returned to the side of the bed and cupped her cheek.

“Fight the cuffs and chains, give it everything you’ve got,” he demanded. There was an almost frightening fire to his eyes and Callie panicked on pure animal instinct. She was his prey. Trapped.

Fighting, jerking, clawing, she thrashed for several seconds, but finally completely exhausted, she fell back onto the bed, panting, covered in a light sheen of sweet. Restrained. At his mercy.

Chapter 12

You can’t escape. There’s no way out now.” He caged her body beneath his as he leaned over the bed and kissed her. Biting her bottom lip, he sucked it into his mouth before ravaging her lips.

“Helpless, my sweet little Callie, so trusting, so brave. Now you are truly mine.” Wes’s words sounded like a promise of dark, erotic things to come as he gave her one more drugging kiss.

Her body trembled, fear and excitement taking over completely. What did he plan to do to her?

Wes straightened and walked to the edge of the bed. His hands snaked out, gripping her ankles. He was too strong, could easily control her now. Her breathing turned to soft pants as her desire for him and her excitement flowed through her.

“Keep them open or I’ll paddle your ass a rich shade of red.” It was her only warning. He bent over the bed and wedged his shoulders between her knees. She tensed. “Relax,” he encouraged more gently.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. She could do this. His palms skated down her inner thighs and his warm breath fanned her exposed sex. A little shudder of vulnerability and awareness rippled through her. He lifted one eyebrow at her when her legs trembled beneath his hands. Her legs almost started to jerk closed, but he pressed harder on her, keeping them open as he held her still on the bed.

Callie lifted her head a little more so she could look down the length of her body. What she saw stole her breath.

Wes, poised above the most secret part of her where none had seen or touched her before. His disheveled hair fell across his eyes as he breathed deeply. His shoulder muscles tensed and moved with each small adjustment he made as he drew closer. His long dark brown lashes fanned up as he met her gaze. He was all masculine power, all raw lust and desire, like a sex god. Inescapable, completely consuming. And he wanted her. Whatever he saw in her own face seemed to encourage him because he bent his head and licked.

The gasp that escaped her was loud and shaky. The sensation was strange, warm, and soft, yet each lick shot her to a wild edge of need. He licked again, a different spot, a light thrusting of his tongue, a circular teasing and then a sucking on her tender bud. That was all it took. She burned to flames as a powerful orgasm swept through her, but he didn’t stop. He added one finger, pushing it into her swollen channel, drawing out the ecstasy until she quivered helplessly around him, unable to think past his touch and the feel of his hands on her body.

Then he unfastened his jeans and lowered them down his hips, taking his black briefs off with them. Callie tensed at the sight of his cock. The man was hung. There was no way he’d fit inside her.

“Don’t get scared now,” he chuckled. “Too late for that.” He held out a strip of cloth, a blindfold, and then climbed over her, sealing it over her eyes and knotting it behind her head. She felt like a horse with blinders on, not sure what was going on around her. The sudden surge of panic hit her like a freight train and she started panting.

“Wes…Wes I…”

A fingertip pressed her lips closed. “Deep breaths. I swore not to hurt you, except for the obvious part of taking your virginity. You must trust me, Callie. The loss of sight is to decrease your fear and heighten your senses.” His voice was clear, almost in her ear, so rich and seductive that her body sagged back on the bed, much more relaxed by his assurances. She listened for sounds but couldn’t make out what he was doing. Soft classical music began to play, which meant he must have turned on the sound system on the dresser. Rustling, like the sound of things being removed from plastic packages, was soon covered by the increasing volume of the music.

“Art is not always pencils on paper or paint on canvas. Art is any form of perfection.” Wes’s voice was close again and she felt his warm breath by her ear. “Listen to the music. Embrace every note, every melody and countermelody. Feel the soul of the music. What do you see when you hear it?” Something soft, like silk drifted down her neck, like a fingertip, but it didn’t feel like skin to skin, but something softer.

“What is that?” she demanded.

Wes chuckled. “I’ll allow that one question, but no more questions when I blindfold you. Answer with ‘yes, sir.’”

“Y—yes, sir.” The word “sir,” a word of power and respect, made her feel a little nervous and excited at the same time. Not because she wanted to be subservient to him, but it was comforting to feel like he was in charge here and she only had to obey him to please him. It removed a lot of pressure from her as to what to do.

“Good girl. Now what you are feeling?” He paused, dragged the object in slow swirls on and around one of her nipples and it pebbled at the stimulation. “That is a paintbrush dipped in cold water.” The sliver of the brush’s tip swept over her nipple again, and she hissed at the coldness and how it made her come alive. “Now, tell me what you think. How does it feel?”

She waited a moment, trying to sort out what she felt. “It feels good, but in a sharp way,” she whispered, a little shy for expressing what she felt sensually.

His chuckle rasped over her bare skin. “I may have no artistic talent, but I do enjoy this and I believe I do it quite well,” he mused aloud and then his mouth left a trail of hot kisses up her throat, her chin, and then to her mouth.

The strings of the classical piece were bittersweet, a hint of sorrow and the promise of hope. Images filled her head and her heart as all she could do was listen, feel, and kiss Wes. There was a fluttering excitement of exploring Paris with Wes…exploring herself with him…

The bed shifted as Wes climbed over her and her thighs were nudged apart with gentle but firm hands. The blindfold was tugged from her eyes and she blinked dazedly. He was above her, arms braced on either side of her head and she felt him. A small nudge against her resistant flesh.

“Tell me what you can feel,” he growled as he shifted inside her another inch. Callie moaned at the foreign sensation.

“I feel good…but I ache.” It was all so—a swift thrust of his hips and she cried out at the stabbing pain. He silenced her with his lips, swallowing any noises she might have made.

“It’ll be over soon,” he murmured soothingly, coiling one hand in her hair as he held still inside her. “Focus on my mouth and the music,” he urged and then slanted his mouth over hers again.

“So much pain,” she whimpered against his lips. It was like a hot poker stabbing her inside.

“Shhhh.” He kissed her. “Relax and kiss me.”

She tried to do as he commanded. And then she heard it. The soft trill of birds. Her birds. The sweet little noises they made and the sound melted her, calmed her. Her knees clasped around Wes’s narrow hips, but out of encouragement rather than pain.