In Their Hands Read Online Julia Sykes

Categories Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
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He found the zipper at the side of my skirt and slowly drew it downward, until the garment loosened and slid down my legs. Instinctively, I tried to twist away and clutch at the fabric to cover my modesty, but his hands shackled my wrists, pinning them at the small of my back as he kissed me with such harsh passion that I couldn’t breathe.

He overwhelmed me, stealing the air from my lungs until my head was spinning. When he was satisfied that I wouldn’t struggle again, he released my wrists so that he could slide my open blouse down my arms, leaving me in nothing but my simple white bra and panties.

Finally, he broke our savage kiss, allowing me space to draw in desperate, panting breaths. Keeping me locked in his rich brown stare, he reached behind me and unclasped my bra with smooth ease. My skin pebbled when he guided the straps off my shoulders, baring my breasts to a man for the first time.

My hands flew to my chest, covering myself as heat rushed to my cheeks. I had a split second to quiver at his frown before he lifted me up over his shoulder. He carried me across the room, and I heard a drawer sliding open and thudding closed once again. I clutched at his shirt as the world spun, but before I could get my bearings, he tossed me down on his bed. All the air whooshed out of my lungs when my back hit the soft mattress, and he took advantage of my disoriented state. He drew my arms above my head, and something cool and unyielding encircled my wrists. The metal clicked into place before I had a moment to register what he was doing to me. In a matter of a few racing heartbeats, I was trapped beneath him.

I twisted my head back so that I could assess what he’d done to me. Silvery handcuffs glinted around my wrists, the chain connecting them looped around an iron slat on his headboard. A whimper eased up my throat, and I jerked against the restraints. Bruising pain flared beneath the surface of my skin, and terror spiked through my heart.

Luca grasped my jaw, his big hand cradling my face so that I was forced to look up into his deceptively lovely eyes. Thick, dark lashes framed their ochre depths, and their incongruous beauty turned my stomach.

“Don’t fight me, Elenora.” He stroked my hair back from my cheek almost tenderly, like he was soothing a spooked animal. “This will be easier for both of us if you don’t struggle.”

“Let me go!” I twisted violently against the restraints, and the cuffs bit into my skin. Fear was a copper tang at the back of my tongue, and panic clawed at my brain.

His weight settled over me, pinning me even more deeply into the mattress. My primal shriek morphed into a shocked cry when his hand cracked against my breast, lighting up my sensitive flesh with a flash of stinging heat.

“Don’t fight me,” he repeated, punctuating the calm command with a twin slap to my other breast.

I stopped pulling against the cuffs. Continuing to struggle would only earn me more pain.

“Good girl,” he praised, brushing his thumbs over my tight nipples.

Sparks danced beneath his touch, lighting up my body in ways I’d never known before. I bit my lip against a shocked gasp as my clit tingled in response.

“Stop,” I begged, burning with humiliation and something hotter that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

He lowered his face to my chest. “No.” His refusal was a rush of heat over my nipple just before he drew the peak into his mouth.

I barely suppressed a soft moan as his tongue flicked the tight bud, teasing and licking. His teeth lightly scraped me, sending a zinging line of pleasure straight to my sex. Something pulsed at my core, and my clit throbbed in time with the beat of my heart. My breathing stuttered.

“So sensitive,” he murmured, his voice rich with satisfaction. “My pretty bride.”

He turned his attention to my other breast, his fingers toying with the first as he repeated the decadent torment with his mouth.

“You’re a monster,” I whispered, my eyes stinging even as my body sang for him.

“No, I’m your husband.” He speared me with his dark stare, his handsome features twisted into something fierce and possessive. “You’re my wife. From now on, you’ll share my bed. In every way. And you will love every second of it. I won’t allow any shyness or modesty to come between us. You’re mine, Elenora.”

I wanted to rail at him that shyness and modesty had nothing to do with it; what he was doing to me was a barbaric violation. He was turning my own body against me, forcing me to feel pleasure when I should feel nothing but revulsion.


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