All Souls' Night - Renee Rose Page 0,71

of hers.

I don’t know where these thoughts are coming from. All of my past girlfriends were conservative in the carnal department. Missionary twice a week was good enough for them. They barely touched my cock with their hands, much less had it anywhere north of their stomachs. I’ve never gone down on a woman.

Now my mouth hungers for it. My tongue aches for it. My lips part, ready to take it.

I back away from the temptation trapped in this room with me. But I don’t go far. I reach for the rope on the wall. When I turn back, her breathing is shallow as she eyes the ends of the twine swinging in my hand.

“Sit down,” I say.

She does as I command. Her slender fingers gather the fabric of her gown. She lifts the material as she places herself onto the cushioned table. I am treated to the sight of her lean ankles, and a hint of her sculpted calf. My fingertips tingle, and I haven’t even touched her yet.

I come to kneel before her with rope in hand. I take her left calf and position it to the metal leg of the massage table. Then I unravel the corded rope.

The corded braid hits the floor. The light thumps match the pounding of my heart, as well as the pulsing of my dick as it anticipates what I am about to do. Luckily, I was an Eagle Scout. I know how to tie a knot.

I crisscross the ropes over her skin. The pattern isn’t as pretty as that of the man who bound the woman outside, but the clove hitch knot will serve my purpose. It will join her leg to the bedpost, and will hold her captive while I explore the depraved thoughts racing through my head.

“What’s your name?”

“Sanai.”

“That’s beautiful,” I say as I take her right calf into my palm. Her skin is smooth in my hand, but I feel a zap of energy skate across my knuckles.

“It means brilliance.”

I look up at Sanai, and grin. She smiles down at me. In the darkened room, I feel I am drowning in sunlight.

“Call me Arneis.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a type of grape found in the hills of Roero in Italy.” I finish the loop and give the rope a tug, tightening its hold on her leg, ensuring she cannot escape. “It translates to little rascal.”

I reach for the edges of Sanai’s gown. Slowly, I slide the dress up. The gown had flared about her legs like a mermaid’s tail. As I raise it, the black trim of the fabric bunches into the splashes of red as her kneecaps are revealed. The blue patterns of the design fold into the green stencils as the tops of her thighs are bared to me.

I have been between a woman’s thighs. But I’ve only ever aimed my cock and thrust. I have never actually looked.

With her ornate gown gathered at her waist, I move my hands to Sanai’s knees to spread her apart. Her lace black panties hide nothing from my eyes. The lush decadence of her scent knocks me back on my heels, and that’s when I realize my folly.

How am I going to get her panties off without untying her? Because I have no intention of setting this woman free until I’ve had my fill of her. Possibly, not even after that.

I reach for the lace with unsteady fingers. Above me, Sanai’s breathing increases. I’ve never had a woman want it this much before. Her desire only fuels me.

Fuck it. I take the thin scrap of lace between both of my thumbs and index fingers, and I pull. The scrap of material easily gives way, and leaves me with no further obstruction to my desires.

There is truly nothing between me and the lips I want to kiss. Sanai is completely shaved. Brown skin meets the darkest pink, and my mouth waters. All thought stops, and I can only feel. And the first thing I feel is those lips of hers on mine.

Chapter 8

In my culture, back two hundred years ago when I was born, nudity was not dwelled upon. Both men and women walked around half, or sometimes fully, bared with no thought of others. Leering, rape or other sexual violence was unheard of as it was punishable by the gods—namely a vengeful matriarch who would rip a perpetrator’s throat out with her teeth.

It was only after I was given in offering to Queen Malika that I came to believe that