The Beastkeeper's Redemption

Eighteen

Eighteen   
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

She studied his lips for longer than he thought possible, causing him to shift. The rope binding his wrists stretched taut and he longed to be rid of them, envelope her in his arms and hold her tightly to his chest.

But he refrained.

For now, he would relinquish control of the situation to her. If Izzy wanted him half-naked and bound to a chair in her dining room, then he would remain so for however long she deemed it so.

Did it matter that he was harbouring a raging desire beyond rational comprehension for her? Nope. He'd endure.

Hopefully.

Well, his cock may very well chafe to oblivion against the seat of his trousers if something didn't let up soon.

"Whatever I want?" Izzy said- finally. She shifted atop his thigh, her fingertips making small circles upon his shoulder where they rested.

"Whatever you want," Kaede confirmed. Her eyes were bright, her lashes fluttering as she shifted her gaze across the contours of his face. She was so close to him he could easily count the tiny lines spanning out from the corners of her eyes, the one that ran up between her brow as she frowned in thought... the dark circles under them.

It had been a long time since either of them had slept, or eaten, the events of the last day taking precedence. He believed she must be exhausted, yet she held herself well.

"You have forgiven me then?" she asked.

"Perhaps it is I that needs your forgiveness," he retaliated, "for hauling you away from Ravensfield before allowing your explanation."

A whisper of a smile flickered the corners of her lips. "And you will allow me to keep my identity secret?"

At that, he paused. It was not that wished to betray her, he simply believed that she had nothing to hide. Kaede would rather have Izzy Hawkins proudly on his arm than Tiffany Cotton, and he longed for her to know it. But the time wasn't right to broach that topic with her, their truce yet newly formed and the hour so late he could practically feel the edges of exhaustion creeping through the pores of his skin.

"Perhaps I'll need some further convincing yet," he told her, in all seriousness, however a wicked glint came over her composure then. "Izzy, I didn't mean-"

"Hush." Her fingers on his lips certainly did a good job of stalling his words, and when she stood from his lap to hitch the silken hem of her gown over her thighs so she could straddle his lap, he forgot he had a brain at all. She settled against him, easing into his hardened groin with an arched back, her calves curling around the back legs of the chair. Palms flattened against his pectoral muscles, shifting, gliding up to his neck where they came to rest.

Bewitched- she had bewitched him. Yet she had no magical ability, he was utterly under her enchantment.

She made a subtle movement, a miniscule rotation of her hips. Her chin tilted, plump lips parted, eyes hooded as she considered every reaction he was having to her.

His fingers bit into the bindings, restraint making every cord and tendon in his arms tremble.

"We'll have to be quiet," Izzy murmured, making that same tiny rotation of her hips that ensured she pressed against his cock in the most infuriatingly delicious of ways. "Do you think you can manage that?"

"No," he managed to grunt out, realising then how badly he had been clenching his jaw. Gods help him, he longed to tear from the knots at his wrists and haul her against the table then and there...