The terrace of the Excelsior Vittoria hotel was like something out of a romantic dream. It was situated on one of the cliffs that jutted out toward the sea. From where we were seated, the hazy, purple mountains in the distance blended into the deep blue water. The horizon was more defined at this time of day. The sun sat golden and low in the sky, casting a glittering swath across the water. The gentle waves shined as they undulated with the pull of the tide.

The sweet music from the string quartet filled the terrace, the sound swelling to spill out over the cliff’s edge and meld with the soft sighs of the sea.

I let out a long breath.

“Are you all right?” Scott asked, tracing the line of my jaw to call my attention back to him.

My lips curved in contentment. “I’m great,” I replied. “I’m happy. That was a good sigh.”

“I’m glad you’re in a good mood. That must mean you’re ready to dance with me.”

The string quartet started up a new song, lilting notes floating through the air to sink into my chest and tug at my heart.

Stay with Me by Sam Smith.

I stood and offered Scott my hand. “I’m ready,” I murmured, wondering if he heard the significance in the song like I did.

He grasped my fingers, his big hand swallowing mine. His crystalline eyes caught the setting sun, shining like pale gemstones. His lips were twisted in a small smile, but his features were sharp with hunger and something deeper that was matched in my own soul: yearning.

We stepped out into the center of the terrace, so the endless sea vista stretched out before us. Glittering lights were strung from the balcony that ringed the cliff’s edge, twinkling like fireflies on a warm night.

No one else was dancing, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t remotely self-conscious or socially awkward. All I wanted was to dance in Scott’s arms, to lean on his strong frame and allow him to lead me.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and took my hand in his. I pressed myself against him, and he took our first swaying step. I hesitated for a moment, and his hand firmed on my lower back, guiding me to move with him. My body went supple, and I began to dance with uncharacteristic grace. It felt magical, impossible. I was soaring, tethered to the ground only by his strong arms.

Everything was perfect: the sunset, the music, the view.

I couldn’t pay attention to any of it. Nothing was a captivating as his glowing eyes staring down at me with desire so keen, it was almost too much to bear.

The song ended, and he dipped my body. I clutched at him, but he supported my weight easily as he captured my lips with his in a long, slow kiss.

When I melted against him, he finally released me and helped me stand straight. People clapped around us, and I flushed.

Despite the heat in my cheeks, a small shiver raced across my skin as a cool breeze played through my long blue dress, lifting the hem so it floated behind me.

Scott rubbed at the goosebumps on my arm. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” I admitted.

“I’ll warm you up,” he promised in a rumbling undertone.

I shivered again, and his arm draped over my shoulders to ward off the chill. I pressed my body close to his, allowing him to lead me off the terrace and back toward our apartment.

I expected him to sweep me up in a kiss as soon as we closed the door behind us, but instead, he kept his hold on my hand and led me into the bedroom. I followed eagerly, ready to fall into bed with him again. I was still faintly sore from where he’d fucked me that afternoon, but my core began to swell and heat for him, conditioned to respond to his nearness.

“Get undressed,” he issued the command gently when he had me positioned by the bed.

He didn’t have to say it twice. My fingers flew to the zipper at the back of my dress, and I shimmied out of the silky material. I slid my white lace panties down my legs, but I decided to leave my strappy black high heels on.

I straightened, displaying my body for him with pride. He worshipped my curves, and I felt like a goddess standing before him in nothing but my sexy shoes.

He’d been retrieving something from his bag while I undressed, but his eyes widened when he turned back to face me.

My eyes widened as well, and my breath caught in my throat.

Scott was holding a coil of rope.

“Where…” I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Where did you get that?”

“Online,” he answered simply, but his eyes were intense on me. He took a step toward me, and I remained rooted in place. “The way you describe rope in your books is…interesting. It’s not violent.”

He stopped when he was standing inches from me. I could feel his heat pulsing against my bare skin. My nipples pebbled with awareness, and my sex grew damp. I could smell the slightly earthy scent of the jute rope, and my body reacted with a surge of desire.

He was still studying me, his eyes intent on mine as he spoke, as though he was searching through my thoughts.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” he asked, the weight of the words letting me know my answer could break him.

I caressed his cheek. “No. Never.”

He trailed the looped rope across my chest, rubbing the slightly rough fibers over my sensitized skin. My lashes fluttered, and a groan left my chest as lust suffused my system.

“You’re going to have to be very good for me,” he murmured. “I’ve been studying this, but I want to get it right.”

I blinked and struggled to gather my wits before the scent and sensation of the rope could send me floating off into subspace.

“You studied rope? When?”

“Over the last few weeks. I knew you liked it. I wanted to try.”

“I want to try, too,” I breathed. “I’ll be good.”

He pressed a kiss against my forehead. “Stay still,” he ordered softly, his lips brushing my skin.

I nodded my agreement, and he took a small step back. He uncoiled the rope and tossed out the length, the way I’d seen dozens of Doms handle it in the past. Had he really studied this for me?

My questioning thoughts were obliterated from my mind when he began to draw the rope through his hands, sliding it between his palms until he found the central point. The soft whisper of the fibers against his calloused skin quieted my brain. I drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of jute.

I slipped into my submissive headspace on a sigh, placing myself under his control.

He remained intent on his task, focusing on the rope rather than staring into my eyes. When his gaze did return to me, it honed on my body. He remained riveted on my chest as he drew the rope around my ribcage, just beneath my breasts.

I shivered when he stepped behind me, completely absorbed in his work. He drew the rope tight before looping over the top of my breasts. He worked slowly, methodically. I was familiar with the simple chest harness he was creating, but I’d never felt so connected to a rope Top.

My skin tingled with awareness, my brain buzzed with pleasure. I began to drift, my conscious mind receding. Nothing existed in my world except him: his touch, his scent. And the rope he wound around the back of my neck. It skimmed over my nape, making the fine hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.

I let out a happy hum, and he kissed my throat as he continued to work, threading the rope through the loops he’d made around my chest. He pulled it taut, and my eyes flew wide on a gasp as the harness tightened.

He tied it off behind my back, and my breasts grew heavy as my blood flow became restricted. My nipples tightened to hard peaks that throbbed for attention.

I began to draw in deep breaths through my nose, the rushes of oxygen adding to my high. I was detached from reality, but I was tethered to him.

He took the length of rope that remained and used it to bind my wrists together at my lower back, connecting them to the chest harness. I was tied. Trapped. Vulnerable to anything he wanted to do to me.

“How do you feel?” he murmured in my ear, his heated words fanning my neck.

“Safe,” I sighed. The ropes hugged my body like a lover’s embrace, both constraining and supporting me. I might be completely at his mercy, but I knew he would never harm me. I was small in his shadow, powerless. But he would take care of me. “Protected.”

He drew in a shuddering breath at the word and stepped to my front, so he could look into my eyes again. He cupped my jaw, lifting my face to his so he could study my expression.

My breaths turned shallower as I fell deeper into him. I started up at him, waiting to see what he would do next. Completely willing to do anything he asked of me.

In that moment, I was his.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his thumbs caressing my cheeks.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I think you’re beautiful, too.”

He closed his eyes and tilted his forehead against mine, as though the connection grounded him somehow. His fingers trailed over the ropes that held my body. I shuddered and mindlessly arched my back, thrusting my aching breasts closer to his touch.

He drew away slightly so he could watch my reactions. His hands closed around my breasts, squeezing gently.

Pleasure rolled through me, and my head dropped back on a moan. My knees sagged at the rush of bliss, and he caught my waist to support me. He easily maneuvered my body, lifting me and shifting me toward the bed.

“Kneel,” he ordered.

Obediently, I folded my legs beneath me. He’d positioned me on the center of the mattress, and I anticipated that he’d join me.

Instead, he stepped away and started to undress. I watched him, my need growing impossibly stronger as he revealed his hard body. My desire dripped from my pussy, making my thighs slick.

When he was naked, he retrieved a condom from the nightstand.

“Don’t,” I begged, finding my voice.

He turned to me, a question in his eyes.

“I’m on birth control. I don’t want to use a condom.”

His jaw tightened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I promised. “I want to feel you inside me.”

He cursed and closed the distance between us, grabbing me and crushing his mouth down on mine. I opened for him, conveying my willingness to accept him. All of him, without a barrier between us.

His fingers dipped between my legs, and they were instantly coated with my arousal.

He growled against my mouth. “I love how wet you get for me.”

I whined when he moved away from me, positioning himself so he was stretched out on the mattress, his back propped up against the headboard. He gripped my hips and guided me to straddle him.

“Ride me,” he commanded.

I hesitated. “I don’t like being on top,” I confessed.

“Why not?”

“I don’t like feeling like I’m in control.”

He pinched my nipple, and I cried out at the flare of pain. My breasts were so heavy, so sensitive. I tried to shift away, but he held me fast. My lust left me on a tormented whimper.

“Do you feel like you’re in control now?” he asked calmly.

“No, Sir,” I panted.

His huge cock jutted up toward me, straining for my swollen pussy. Compelled by his command and his hold on my breast, I lowered myself onto him.

He tweaked my other nipple. “Slower.”

I bit my lip and slowed my pace, moving with aching care as I slid my body onto his. He stretched me, inch by thick inch, until he’d entered me to the hilt.

“Stay there.” He forestalled me from moving my hips.

Before I could puzzle out why, he reached around me. His fingers were still slick from my juices, but he gathered up more from my thighs. His touch explored farther, dipping between my ass cheeks to find my puckered bud.

I gasped and bucked, but he held me fast with one big hand gripping my hip.

I stilled on a whine, but I didn’t protest when he applied pressure. His finger penetrated me, and dark pleasure lit up my system. I tried to squirm, but his fingers curved into my flesh at my hip.

“Stay still,” he ground out, his words roughened by his own lust.

He pressed forward, his desire-slicked finger sliding deeper into me. With his cock in my pussy, I felt stretched and almost unbearably full. My entire body began to tremble, and my inner muscles contracted around the double intrusions.

“Don’t come,” he bit out. “Not yet.”

I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut, willing my orgasm to subside.

His finger slid all the way inside, his hand splaying against my ass. He applied more pressure, forcing me to lift my hips.

“Ride me,” he ordered again.

I began to move over him, reveling in the feel of his cockhead brushing against my g-spot with every roll of my hips. He urged me on, his finger in my ass giving him more control over my pace. My thighs burned with strain, but I didn’t slow. I rode him, growing eager and greedy as I lost myself in lustful abandon. My heavy breasts bounced, making me aware of how they were constrained by the rope he’d used to bind me.

“Fuck,” he bit out. His abs rippled as his entire body tensed. I knew he was holding off his orgasm, but I didn’t want him to.

“I want to feel your cum inside me,” I panted, completely lost to intoxicating desire. “I want you to mark me. Make me yours.”

“Mine,” he snarled, slamming into me. His seed shot deep inside me, liquid heat searing my pussy.

I screamed as my orgasm ripped through my body with the force of a tidal wave, sudden and relentless. My pleasure was almost brutal in its intensity, my vision going dark as ecstasy flooded my system. His cock pulsed inside me, releasing the last of his cum into me. I ground against him, taking it all.

As I floated in bliss, one word echoed through my mind: mine.