SHADES OF LOVE

CHAPTER 7

As you lay there in bed in the moonlit darkness, you realized that your own body had woken you with its demands.

The throbbing between your legs grew unbearable and you pressed one hand against the violent pulsing, hoping to dull the ache. The pressure worsened it instead.

You're just horny,  you scolded yourself.

You hadn't known sex could quench a deeper thirst, until Ignazio. But the reality was that, with all the stress and tension going on in your life, along with the time the two of you had been spending apart, the days of deprivation were becoming almost too much to bear. And if you added the fact that you'd just realized you witnessed one of Ignazio's hot friends being sucked by some crazy woman who apparently kept sending sex toys to your own boyfriend...you could actually understand why your brain—and hormones—sort of had fried.

Pushing up onto your elbows, you looked at Ignazio. The sheet and comforter clung to his waist, leaving his sculpted chest and biceps bared. His right arm was tossed over his head, framing the fall of dark hair around his lavishly handsome face. His left arm lay between both of you on the blankets, the hand fisted and bringing to relief the network of thick veins that coursed up his forearms. Even in repose he looked fierce and powerful.

You became more aware of the tension inside you, the sense that you were drawn to him by the silent exertion of his formidable will. It wasn't possible that he could demand your surrender while he was sleeping, yet it felt that way, felt like that invisible rope between the two of you was pulling you to him.

You couldn't stay still. Throwing the covers off, you slid your legs off the side of the mattress and thought about trying a glass of warm milk with a bit of brandy. Or take a cold shower. Abruptly, you paused, riveted by the moonlight gleaming off the leather of the ring box on the nightstand and it immediately made you glance at your right hand.

Bonds...

The erotic strand of it fuelled your desire. At that moment, the thought of being bound, unleashing all of Ignazio's seething passion on your helpless, willing body filled you with heated yearning.

You recalled reading in an article about bondage some women's statements on how their "master" could use their body any time and in any way he wanted, for his pleasure alone. There was nothing about that you'd found sexy...until you put Ignazio in the picture. You loved getting him off. You loved making him come. Just because.

Your fingers brushed over the intertwined rose gold rope-like bands.

"Do you like it, (Y/N)?"

A shiver moved through you at the sound of Ignazio's voice, deeper and rougher than you'd ever heard it. He'd been awake, watching you.

How long had he been conscious? Was he as attuned to you while sleeping as you seemed to be to him?

"I love it." You turned your head to find him sitting up.

Some of your thoughts must have shown on your face, because he asked, "Is there more? What's going through that beautiful head of yours, angel?"

How would you say what you were thinking without making an ass of yourself? 

You shook your head. "Nothing."

"(Y/N)." His voice was stern. "Tell me."

"It's stupid."

"That wasn't a request."

An electric tingle coursed through you, as it always did when he took on that commanding tone.

"It's just... God, sometimes I think I shouldn't need you this much," you whispered. "It's not healthy."

"What? Come here." He urged you closer so you could straddle his lap. His arms wrapped carefully around your waist and his gaze was soft. "Tell me what's bugging you."