Restrained Box Set: Boston Doms Books 1-4, page 44
Milos buries his face against my neck and feathers kisses all the way from my jaw to my ear. “Don’t shut me out again, Elora. Whatever you’re feeling, whenever you’re scared or in pain, I need to know. Promise me.”
I meet his intense gaze. “I promise. I love you.”
Our kiss rocks me all the way to my toes, and suddenly, I’m no longer chilled, but on fire. His hand slides down to brush my ass, and he almost growls as he pulls me against his growing erection. “I have a room upstairs.”
“Soon, agápi mou,” I say. “I haven’t been to a wedding in years. I want to dance with you.” Wriggling out of his arms, I shake my ass at him as I flee back inside. Milos doesn’t let me get far, and he pays me back by pinching my left butt cheek as he catches me. I try to retaliate, but my arms are quickly trapped when he holds his jacket shut.
“You don’t fight fair!” I protest, but I can’t help my laugh as he cages me against him.
“Just wait until later, love. I’ll be quite fair. Unless you make me punish you.”
I’m blushing when Devan and Mac join us. She leans in for a hug.
“‘Operation Auld Lang Syne’ complete?”
I nod, and she turns her smile on Milos. “What are you two still doing here? Get a room.”
“Elora wants to dance.” Milos dips me, and I clutch his arms, laughing, until I find myself staring up into Elizabeth and Alexander’s amused faces.
Once I’m set to rights, Elizabeth kisses my cheek and whispers, “I’m glad you seem to have worked things out.”
Her wedding dress rustles as I hug her, and for the first time in a week, the tears I want to cry are those of joy, not pain. “You helped make this happen.”
“No, Elora. You did this all on your own.” Elizabeth practically glows as Alexander wraps his arm around her once more.
Milos, Mac, and Alexander laugh about something I missed, but there’s no mistaking the love reflected in the men’s eyes. A uniformed waiter with a tray of champagne flutes pauses, and we each lift a glass. “To love,”
Alexander says with his wife pressed to his side.
“To love.” I can’t help but smile as the bubbles tickle my throat. Milos’s gaze smolders, and when the happy couple is called away for their first dance, I lean back against him, pondering just how long we have to stay before we can take advantage of that room.
Milos presses a kiss to the back of my neck. “’Operation Auld Lang Syne’?”
“You didn’t think it strange that Mac wanted to talk outside? In the middle of winter?”
His laugh is one of my favorite sounds, second only to how he says my name, and I twist in his arms so I can see the light in his eyes and his smile.
“I’d say Devan’s plan was a smashing success.”
“Definitely.”
We laugh, dance, and drink the night away. I stick to the slow songs, holding onto Milos lest I fall on my face, but neither of us want to let go of one another. Even Mac dances a little, though his limp becomes more pronounced as the night goes on, and before long, he and Devan lounge at one of the tables against the wall, watching the revelers.
As midnight approaches, the uniformed waitstaff distributes fresh glasses of champagne, and Elizabeth and Alexander lead the countdown to the new year.
Milos holds me close, and we whisper our chant in tandem. As the clock rolls over and the guests erupt into applause, he leans in, and I hold my breath. I dreamed of this moment last night, and Milos doesn’t disappoint, his kiss sending chills down to my toes.
After we say a hasty goodbye to Devan and Mac and wave to Elizabeth, we hurry to the elevator. But two couples join us, and we can do nothing more than link our fingers, though if I had my preference, I’d already have his shirt unbuttoned, my hand down his very nicely pressed pants.
By the time we reach his room, I’m so desperate to get his clothes off, I don’t even wait until he’s set the deadbolt to strip off his jacket. “I dreamed about you,” I say between kisses. “Every night.” As I unbutton his shirt, I meet his gaze. “Your kiss, your touch.” The shirt hits the floor, and I press my lips to his shoulder. “The way you say my name.”
“Elora.” Milos cups my breast through the satin, and my nipples pebble, aching for his mouth. I reach for his tie, but he stills my hands. “No. Tonight, you are mine. Do you trust me?”
I nod, and he leads me to the bed.
“Close your eyes.” Milos tucks a lock of hair behind my right ear. His warm breath tickles my cheek. “Do not move.”
“And what if I do?”
He slides his hand down my dress, skimming my mound, and if my panties haven’t melted from the heat between my legs, they soon will. I can’t see, but I sense him, and he drops to his knees and slowly lifts my skirt. As his fingers dance along the seam of my thong, I can’t help my whimper. The
smooth pads of his fingers ease the black lace down my thighs.
“If you move, I won’t be able to take my time, and you, agápi mou, deserve to be worshiped for hours.”
As Milos feathers my inner thighs with gentle kisses, I try to hold still, but before long, I’m thrusting my hips towards him, begging for him to take me. I expect him to stop, to punish me somehow for my infraction, and I welcome his sweet torture. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and lays his cheek against my stomach. I risk a glance, and he meets my gaze. “I love you, Elora.”
My dress has an odd catch under the arm, and I loosen the hook, slide the zipper down, and raise my brows. “Then make love to me, Milos. It’s a new year. Let’s have our new beginning.”
With aching slowness, he slides my dress from my shoulders, and soon, I’m left in only my corset, the snug, black material holding me upright. Milos dips a finger into my wetness, and I push against him, but he won’t let me come so soon. Secretly, I’m thrilled, and as he sweeps his tongue against my clit, I grab onto his shoulders to keep me upright.
“Lie down. The things I plan on doing to you tonight…you’re not going to be able to stand for hours.”
He positions me in the center of the bed, then removes his tie. Wrapping my wrists snugly, he hooks the tie on the headboard—who knew the Fairmont provided bondage hooks?—and then stands, his hungry gaze drinking in every inch of me.
“Please,” I beg and squeeze my legs together to find some relief from the desire throbbing between my thighs.
I admire his chest as he strips off his shirt, his toned arms, the ink swirling over his bicep. A poem for his family, he explained last week, and one day I want to hear it, but for now, I’m too desperate for his hands and his mouth, and yes, his cock. I pull against my bindings, but despite the silky material, the knot holds. The confinement heightens every sensation, and when he sheds his pants and briefs and stands before me naked, I renew my plea.
Relenting, he settles between my legs. Hands on my hips, he holds me still as his tongue traces my lower lips. He knows exactly how to drive me higher, but never let me crest, and I can do nothing but writhe under his teasing kisses, his gentle nips to my inner thighs, his fingers as they dance along the very edge of where I so desperately need him to be. I cry out for
him, and he stills, gazing up at me with the look of a man who’s found his home.
“Please.” Desperation edges my voice, and with a smile, Milos returns his attention to my clit, and my entire world dissolves into light and love and pleasure.
EPILOGUE
One month later
Elora
T hese have been the longest four weeks of my life. Milos guarded Elizabeth and Alexander during their honeymoon to Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. We kept in touch over Skype and text, and that forced us to slow down, to spend our time outside of the bedroom—for the most part. I won’t deny the Saturday evening video calls that ended in some spectacular orgasms for both of us.
But now, while the happy couple is on a private cruise around the Greek Isles, Milos has a week off, and after a long flight to join him, we’re in a car, rolling slowly down a street just outside Kallithea.
My heart skips a beat as an old woman shuffles out of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant and meets my gaze. Her smile and hunched posture remind me of my grandmother, and I brush away a tear. “I’ve missed this,” I say as I roll down the window and inhale the unique scent of Athens in the winter. It’s unseasonably warm, and the sea looks like glittering diamonds in the sun.
“And I have missed you.” Milos brushes a knuckle along my jaw while we wait for a family with three small children to cross the street. “Are you certain you’re ready for the entire Sagona family?”
“No.” The tremble in my voice must worry him, for he quickly pulls over to the side of the road, then turns to me and takes my hands.
“What do you need, agápi mou? How can I make this easier on you?”
Understanding wells in his dark brown eyes, and I hold on tight, needing the anchor of his fingers to stop my racing thoughts.
“Can we…stop for a coffee?”
Milos hurries around to passenger side of the car, then helps me to my feet. Between the jet-lag and our sensual reunion, I haven’t slept much, and I sway a little until his strong arm pulls me close. The few blocks’ walk revives me a bit, the balm of the sea air fortifying me for whatever comes next.
In a little corner coffee shop, Milos orders us drinks, and I try to hide my face behind my hair. It’s been so long…but what if someone recognizes me?
Once we’re seated at a small table, close enough for our knees to touch, he meets my gaze. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“I called my giagiá before I got on the plane.” The words escape barely louder than a whisper, and I force myself to continue. “I…talked to my mother. For just a few minutes. Told her I was coming to Greece.”
“What did she say?” He must suspect, for he cups my hands with his.
I shake my head. “She told me my father wouldn’t want her talking to me. But…” Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. “She gave me Darian’s email address. I don’t know if he’ll respond, but at least…there’s a chance I could talk to my brother again.”
Milos’s smile warms me even more than the coffee. “If we need to stay an extra few days so you can see him…we will.”
We. I don’t know how or when we began, but sitting in a little corner shop with sweet, rich coffee, holding hands, and hearing the chatter of our native tongue all around us, we feel right.
An hour later, Milos parks at the bottom of a small hill. I’m nervous about seeing everyone, though Anna and I have talked twice now, and she assures me the whole family will love me.
The white cement walls need a good cleaning, but the small home, the one Milos and his four siblings grew up in, sits amid concrete planters filled with bright pink flowers. We have to climb a long set of steps to reach the house, and Milos takes my arm to help me. The hours of travel and the exhaustion have left me unsteady on my feet. My nerves don’t help either.
An electric chair at the top of the steps gives Milos pause, though he knew his father’s knees couldn’t take the climb any longer. “I hate being so far away,” he says as we approach the front landing.
I’m not ready. I claw at the neck of my sweater, the stirrings of panic sending my heart pounding, but then Dori throws open the bright blue door, and before I can even say “hi,” she’s wrapped her little arms around me.
“You got better!”
Tears line my eyes as I return the embrace, and next to me, Alesia begs Milos to pick her up. He spins her in the air, and her shrieks of joy warm my heart. I’m pulled inside with more gusto than a child as small as Dori should be able to manage, with Milos and Alesia at my back.
The home is alive with the scents of seasoned lamb, a television blaring cartoons somewhere in the back, and loud, boisterous voices clamoring for Milos’s attention. I hang back, with Dori at my side, until Anna shoulders her way through the throng of her children. “Elora, we’re glad you came.
Welcome home.”
IN HIS COLLAR
1
Nick
“I need to ask you something.” Lia’s hand trembled as she touched Nick’s arm. She kept her gaze downcast, focusing on his glass of scotch.
“Anything, love.” Nick toyed with a lock of her hair as he glanced up from the financial reports his admin had thrust upon him moments before he’d left work that evening. Faint smudges bruised her eyes and Nick searched her face. “You look knackered. Is your roommate still playing his drums at all hours of the night? You know you could simply move in with me, yeah?”
Blond curls tumbled over her shoulders as she pulled her hair clip loose and shook her head. “I’m not ready to give up my apartment. Neither are you.”
“We’ve been together for three years. You’ve worn my collar for two.”
He drew his finger along the platinum choker. A diamond in the shape of a heart dangled from the chain. The day she’d agreed to the collaring, he’d thought his life complete. “We’ll make things work. Move in.”
Lia’s blue eyes clouded. “And then what? If you want me to share your home, you have to be willing to talk about our future, about sharing a life with me. And every time I bring up the subject, you—”
“We’re happy, yeah? Why can’t that be enough?”
Her lower lip wobbled for a breath, and then she sighed. “I suppose it has
to be.” She toyed with the diamond, her cheeks pale. When she met his gaze, fear swam in her eyes. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. They want to run some tests. Just routine. I…haven’t been sleeping well lately. I need you to unlock the collar. No metal in the MRI machine.”
“Of course.” Nick set his scotch on the side table, reached around Lia, and undid the clasp. In truth, it didn’t lock, but the multiple catches required two hands and had to be released in a particular order. As the collar tumbled free, Nick cupped Lia’s cheek. “Is this serious? Do you want me to go with you?”
“No.” With one hard blink, her face transformed, the worry fading away.
“Just a precaution. Probably a vitamin deficiency or I’m working too hard.
My doctor’s just being thorough.”
Nick nodded. “You do spend too much time at the office. The Jimmy Fund has run you ragged the past few months. I’m so proud of the work you do, Lia, but you need a vacation.”
“Like you can talk about that.” Lia jabbed him in the shoulder, knocking the financial reports into his lap. “Mr. I’m Going To Buy Another Small Country Before Bedtime.”
“Only a tanker, my darling. The country will wait until next week.” Nick tossed the bound report onto the floor, then scooped Lia into his arms.
“Should we celebrate this particular tanker?”
“Why not?”
She laughed as he carried her upstairs to his bedroom. So light. Had she lost weight recently? No, his new personal trainer had been particularly hard on him the past few months. Lia was perfect, and as he stripped off her sweatshirt, her breasts beckoned him.
“I love your body, Lia. My gorgeous sub. So perfect.” Nick sucked one pert nipple into his mouth, and she moaned under his ministrations, pressing her body to his and draping her arms around his neck. “Now,” he said as he kissed his way over to the other breast. “Shall I bind you?”
“Yes, Sir. Please.”
Six months later
The infernal beeping wouldn’t shut up. Nick shook himself awake, the pain in his back and neck sending sparks racing all the way down his legs. Where was he? Shite. As Lia struggled to breathe in the sterile hospital bed, Nick dropped his head into his hands.
The cancer had left her a shell of her former self. Barely eighty pounds, she hadn’t been out of bed in more than a week, and though she’d begged him to take her to his home, to let her die somewhere other than the hospital, the doctors were adamant about keeping her here. He’d listened, and now…
she’d be lucky to make it another day.
He’d been a bloody idiot.
Fuck it.
Texting his driver, Nick hoped he wasn’t too late.
When the man promised to arrive in less than ten minutes, Nick blew out a breath.
Perhaps she’d have enough time.
“Lia, darling?” Nick brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Wake up for me.”
“Nick,” she croaked, her chapped lips barely moving. As she forced her lids open, he saw the truth in her gaze. Not a day. Hours at best.
“We’re going home, love. Can you hold on a little longer for me?”
The fire in her bloodshot eyes staggered him. Even as weak as she was, she’d fight for this. “Hurry.”
Nick ignored the nurses when they tried to stop him from carrying Lia down the hall to the elevator. Wrapped in a blanket, she shuddered in his arms, each breath rattling in her chest like a bag of pennies. Her DNR
mandated no heroic measures, or he’d have insisted on a breathing tube.
How could he have let her go? When she’d refused to put the collar back on after the medical tests, she’d said she needed space. He hadn’t listened to the words she didn’t say. The way she’d kept her gaze on her clasped hands, the pallor of her skin. He’d given her that space—too angry and selfish to see what was right in front of him.
Now, her cool limbs so thin he feared he’d crush her, he thanked God for these last few minutes with her. Once inside the limo, he ordered his driver to break every traffic law necessary to reach his home in under fifteen minutes.
The man deserved a raise. Twelve minutes later, Nick climbed into bed
