Bound to Be a Bride by Megan Mulry Read Free Book Online Page B

the Hojojutsu theme. He had never left her wanting.
    Then, when he began organizing the rebel forces and turning his attention more wholeheartedly to his political goals, he assumed the art of bondage was something that he would have to chalk up to youthful curiosity. The idea that he might find a woman, a virgin, by the looks of it, of marriageable age, who seemed to be quite… amenable… to his bondage fantasies, was something he had never dared hope for. Of course, he could suppress the urge, but if someone just happened to present herself, and she just happened to get a strange gleam of anticipation in her eye, and she just happened to offer herself up to him as if she had no greater desire than to be bound by him? Then he might change his philosophical position on the hand of divine providence after all.
    He brought the blanket back over Sol’s ankles and feet and patted her one last time. “Sorry.”
    Her eyes were closed and her lips had the slightest hint of a smile. “That’s all right, Javier.”
    He almost groaned at the sound of his name on her sleepy, puffy lips. Damn her. Javier stood up quickly and walked toward his side of the campfire, kicking a stone out of his way with an irritated flick of his boot.
    The night passed fitfully for Javier as he tried not to wait for the unwitting seductress to slip into her world of tender release in the darkest hours of the night. Javier was not sure if he had slept at all, hanging as he was in that perpetual state of hoping she would have the same dream again, then hating himself for being such a foolish pup. But he was fully awake when, barely visible in the reflection of the low embers, her lips began that tender exploration of the ropes at her wrist.
    “ ¡Joder! ” Javier swore quietly under his breath; his cock was not going to be ignored this time. He reached to unbutton his buckskins and began to rub himself along with the rhythm of her lips. Up and down. Her hips tilted slightly and she bit down again, as she had the night before. Javier stroked himself, imagining the tension he saw on those wanting lips surrounding him. The way she drew her lips around the rope, pulling her cheeks in, it was no stretch of his imagination. He watched as she found her gentle pace and then her eyes closed tighter and— aaah —Javier went with her.
    He tried to keep his breathing low and steady but he let one strained sigh escape. She hummed her sleepy satisfaction and tilted her face away from the rope, her profile showing her slightly opened mouth to tantalizing effect.
    I am ruined , thought Javier dismally as he took his handkerchief out and used it to clean up after himself. For the second time in as many nights. Ruined .
    ***
    For the three nights that followed, Isabella presented her hands and legs to Javier for binding. On each successive night, she became more agitated and excited as the time approached for him to wrap her. As soon as he began the ritual, she slipped into some miraculous place, as if she were the most precious object in the world and he was preparing her like a gift.
    If only he would open her, the way the hands in her dreams opened her. She supposed he opened her each morning when he released the beautiful ties and bindings, but it did not seem effective or complete somehow. In her confused imagination, there was some way that he would be able to keep her in those meticulously tied ropes and release her anyway. But that was impossible. Throughout the long days of riding, Isabella’s mind continued to circle back around these vague and titillating ideas, trying to make sense of what he was doing and how she was responding.
    She shook her head, feeling the weight of her wide braid against her back as she rode her horse, galloping a few strides behind Javier, across the rocky plain. It was their last day and they were a few hours outside of Aveiro. It was still unclear what would happen to her once they got there. Rumors of unrest in Madrid had