Bound for Nirvana: (The Bound Trilogy Book 3) by Kendra Leigh Page B

nodded.
    “For me.” Removing his finger, he tucked it under his nose to inhale my scent before dipping his finger into his mouth for a taste. I whimpered, aroused by the lewd gesture, and again, he seemed pleased, rewarding me by returning his hand to begin a gentle, lazy circling of my clit. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers now, baby. Because you’re mine, and I can.” He slid in a finger, the fingers of his other hand still working my clit. Christ, I wasn’t going to last long. “You’re going to come against my hand. Because you’re mine, and I’m going to allow you to.” Gently, he added another finger, the tempo increasing as he glided skillfully in and out.
    “Oh my God.” I moved my hips against him in time with his rhythm.
    “That’s it, baby. I can do this whenever I like. Because you’re mine. Only me. Say it, baby.” His fingers worked faster, deeper. “Say it.”
    “Only you, Ethan.” I pumped my hips against his fingers shamelessly, closing my eyes as my climax built to its sweet crescendo.
    “Look at me,” he demanded. My eyes snapped open and gazed into an ocean’s worth of lascivious desire. “Now come.” His command was my undoing, and I obeyed without hesitation, coming violently and noisily against his hand.
    Ethan’s lips twitched into a slow, sexy smile of approval as he worked me down gently. “Better?” I nodded through heaving breaths and watched as he slid his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. “You taste utterly amazing, Cinderella.”
    “Mmm. As I recall, you taste delicious yourself.” My eyes flickered to the bulge in his pants, my brows hitching suggestively, teeth tugging on my lower lip.
    Brows raised, he shook his head in sheer amazement. “That was supposed to satisfy you, baby.”
    “It did. And I thank you. But why waste this?” I slid my hand firmly over his material-clad erection and smiled as it jerked in response. He grabbed my hand and pressed it against him, closing my fingers tightly around his shaft. He closed his eyes briefly, his jaw muscles tensing and clenching.
    “There is nothing I would like more than to bury this thing inside you right now, baby, but I’m afraid I’ll have to endure the discomfort of an aching cock until this evening. I have an early meeting.” He tapped my thigh for me to rise before I had the chance to change his mind. I pouted, but obliged, following him out of the room and down the hall to our suite and into the bathroom, watching as he loaded paste onto his toothbrush.
    “What are your plans today?” he asked through a mouthful of minty froth.
    For a brief second, I thought about my headache and considered going back to bed for a while, but then I remembered the Sloane thing and thought my time would be better served deciding on how best to tackle his odd request.
    “The gallery,” I answered decisively.
    He frowned as he rinsed, then reached for the hand towel to dab his mouth. “Is Jia still absent?”
    We hadn’t discussed anything about what had happened last night—the drinking, Paddy’s, Dylan, the missed calls, or the “hopeful” with the near broken jaw, and Ethan still had no clue about Jia and Charley’s breakup. Despite the passionate encounter in the elevator, he’d still been too mad to talk, and frankly, I’d been too drunk.
    “No. But we have a new client. A serious collector who’s looking to spend a large sum of money. She needs my help.”
    “Good.” He nodded. “I’m glad the gallery is doing well. Will you have time for lunch?”
    Immediately I cheered and nodded eagerly. Just then, I heard my cell vibrate against the surface of the bedside table, and I hooked a thumb in the direction of the bedroom, an indication that I was off to answer it.
    The screen displayed a number I didn’t recognize. Frowning, I answered. “Hello, Angelica Lawson.”
    “Good morning, Miss Lawson,” said a voice I was vaguely acquainted with. “Dominic Sloane here.” Oh crap,