Complete Me (The Stark Trilogy)

realize that Damien has used my bra to tie me to this pillar.
    “Clever,” I say.
    “Enticing,” he retorts. “Can I trust you not to peek?”
    “Yes,” I say.
    “Mmm.” From his tone, I’d have to say he doesn’t believe me, and I open my eyes to find him frowning at me. I grin sheepishly, but he says nothing. Just turns and goes into the bedroom, leaving me tied to a pillar in the living room, wearing nothing but my thigh-high stockings, high heels, and a conservative strand of pearls.
    I twist my head, trying to see what’s he’s doing, but it’s impossible. I listen, but I hear nothing.
    I close my eyes and say a silent prayer that he’s not leaving me here. Unfortunately for me, I know damn well that I can’t discount the possibility. “Damien?”
    There is no answer.
    “Mr. Stark? Sir?”
    Again, the room remains silent. And I, alone and essentially naked, can’t help but wonder just how long he’ll be gone. For that matter, I can’t help but wonder what he’ll do when he returns. This may be my punishment, but I know that the reward, when it finally comes, will be astounding.
    “And here I thought you had more patience.” I hear his voice, but there is no Damien.
    “And here I thought you were going to fuck me. At the very least, you were going to spank me.”
    Then he steps in from the bedroom, his stride long and easy, his back straight, his expression that of a man who knows damn well that the earth will rotate whichever way he tells it to. All that power, and right now it is focused entirely on me. “Frustrated, Ms. Fairchild?”
    “Maybe I’m feeling a little cheated,” I say.
    “I promise you won’t by the time I’m through with you,” he says with such heat in his voice that it’s a wonder I don’t melt right there, and slip out of my bond like butter. “I didn’t get to take you as far as I would have liked during our limo ride. I intend to remedy that now. Slowly, and very, very thoroughly.”
    He has something in his hand, and it takes me a minute to realize it’s one of his ties. “Your eyes are open,” he says.
    “Ah.” I can hardly argue, as I’m looking right at him.
    “Close them,” he says, and I do. I feel the brush of silk over my eyes, then the tug as he tightens the tie around the back of my head. His lips brush the corner of my mouth. “Nice,” he says. His lips brush my ear. “Now everything you hear, everything you feel,every bit of pleasure, every hint of pain will come from me. So tell me, Nikki. Does that excite you?”
    “You know it does.”
    His lips graze my neck, and his one simple word seems to reverberate through me. “Why?”
    I swallow. It’s not a question I expected. “Because—because you know me. Because you know what I can take. You know what I want. You know my limits, Damien. And because you push them.”
    “Good girl.”
    He reaches up and traces his finger lightly along my collarbone, then over the strand of pearls. A moment later, he has removed the necklace, and I hear the
clink
of pearls against pearls as he crunches the strand in his palm, then cups his hand over my breast.
    I tilt my head back and suck in air as he rubs small circles over my nipple, massaging me with the hard, slick surface of the cluster of pearls. Then he opens his hand more and I feel the brush of the necklace as he untangles it, then rubs the strand enticingly against the swell of my breast, my puckered areola, and my oh-so-sensitive nipple.
    “Damien,” I murmur as he trails the tip of the strand down my belly, careful to let only the smooth surface of one stone touch my skin. The sensation is intoxicating. The cool brush of the gem. The sweet anticipation of not knowing where the next touch will fall.
    I jump a little when the necklace grazes my pubis, then bite down on my lower lip, willing myself to stand still.
    “Should I crush these as Cleopatra did?” he whispers.
    “I don’t need an aphrodisiac,” I retort, my voice breathy.
    “No, I don’t think you do. I can see the flush on your skin, I can breathe in the scent of your arousal. When I touch you, I know I will find you desperately wet for me. Won’t I, Nikki?”
    “Oh, God, yes.”
    “Good.” I hear the smile in his voice. “Now spread your legs for me.”
    I do, then moan when he draws the strand of pearls between my legs, back and forth, the strand becoming slick with my own arousal. Each perfect gem glides over my clit, and the sensation is maddening, right