Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 199 - Hundred And Ninety Nine

"Marissa?"

Derek looked at her. He was bewildered. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the mattress, his chest heaving slightly. He had expected a kiss. He had expected tenderness. He had not expected this sudden, commanding shift in power.

The woman standing before him was not the stern Duchess who put people in their place. She was not the schemer who crafted plans against her enemies. She was a goddess of the night, naked and glowing in the moonlight, holding a black ribbon like a weapon of war.

Marissa loomed over him. She took a step closer, entering the space between his knees. She looked down at him with heavy, hooded eyes.

"Derek," she said. Her voice was low. It was hypnotic, a soft purr that vibrated in the quiet room. "Take it all off."

Derek swallowed hard. His throat clicked.

He looked at her face. She wasn’t joking. There was a fire in her eyes, a challenge that demanded an answer.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t make a sound.

Marissa shifted back a little to give him space. She stood there, watching him, her hand still wrapped in the ribbon.

As if hypnotized, Derek moved. His hands went to the drawstring of his loose linen trousers. His fingers fumbled for a second, clumsy with anticipation, before finding the knot. He pulled it loose.

He pushed the trousers down. He kicked them off his feet.

He sat there, completely naked.

The firelight from the hearth danced over his skin. It highlighted the broad muscles of his chest, the flat plane of his stomach, and the scars that marked his history as a soldier. He was vulnerable, exposed, and undeniably powerful.

He stared at her. He didn’t try to hide himself. He let her look.

Marissa’s gaze traveled over him. She looked at his shoulders. She looked at his chest. She looked lower.

She smiled.

She moved forward again. She placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Lie back," she whispered.

She pushed him.

Derek fell back onto the soft mattress. He sank into the pillows, his eyes never leaving hers.

Marissa didn’t hesitate. She climbed onto the bed. She moved over him. She straddled his waist, her knees sinking into the duvet on either side of his hips.

She sat up straight. The moonlight painted her skin in silver. She looked magnificent.

Derek reached up. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to run his hands over the curve of her waist, to pull her down to him.

But Marissa caught his wrists.

"No," she said softly. "Not yet."

She gripped his hands and pushed them up. She forced his arms above his head, pressing his wrists against the wooden headboard.

Derek didn’t fight her. He let her move him. He was strong enough to break her grip in a second, but he had no desire to. He wanted to see what she would do.

She loosened the black silk ribbon from her own hand. It was long and cool. She wound it around his left wrist. Then his right. She wrapped it tight, binding his hands together. She tied a knot, securing him to the carved post of the headboard.

She pulled back to check her work. His hands were tied above his head, leaving his chest and body completely open to her.

Derek just lay there. He tested the bonds lightly. They were secure.

He looked up at her, admiring her body. He looked at the way her hair fell over her shoulders, brushing against her skin. He looked at the curve of her breasts. He looked at the fierce determination in her eyes.

"Do you remember this?" Marissa asked.

She shifted her weight. She sat down fully, settling well in between his legs, her body resting against his hardness.

Derek gasped. The sensation was electric.

"Do you remember?" she repeated.

Derek was too stunned to speak. His mind was hazy with lust.

Marissa bent forward. She lowered her body slowly. Her breasts brushed against his chest, skin sliding against skin. It was a torture of the sweetest kind.

She brought her lips to his ear.

"The first night," she whispered. "The first night as a married couple."

She nipped at his earlobe.

"In my bedchamber," she murmured. "On my bed."

She was talking about the night of the intruder. The night she had drugged him and tied him up to fool Lorena.

She bit his ear, harder this time.

"Ouch!" Derek let out a sharp sound. But the tone was not of pain. It was similar to a moan, a deep, guttural sound of approval.

Marissa pulled back slightly to look at his face.

"I was asked," she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, "if this is how I consummate with my husband."

She moved her hand. She placed her palm flat on his chest, right over his heart. She could feel it hammering against her hand like a trapped bird.

She began to trail her fingers down. She traced the line of muscle down his chest. She traced the ridges of his abdomen.

"Lorena asked," Marissa whispered. "Ashlyn asked."

Her fingers moved lower.

Every inch she touched seemed to burn. Derek arched his back slightly, his breath hitching.

"They thought I was wild," Marissa said. "They thought I was shameless."

She looked into his eyes.

"And Senna..." Marissa said the name with a dark smile.

"She said you can’t father a child," she said.

Her hand reached him. She wrapped her fingers around his hardness.

Derek groaned, his head pressing back into the pillow. Her touch was cool and firm.

"She said you are incapable," Marissa whispered. "Incapable of making love to a woman."

She began to move her hand. She teased him, her thumb rubbing gently, her grip tightening and then relaxing.

Derek’s hips bucked upward instinctively. He couldn’t help it. The sensation was overwhelming. He was fully erect, rigid and aching for her.

"She called you a useless man," Marissa murmured, watching his face contort with pleasure. "She called me a living widow."

She stroked him again.

"Does this look useless?" she asked.

Derek gritted his teeth. He pulled against the ribbon binding his hands. He wanted to grab her. He wanted to flip her over and take control.

"Mari..." he groaned. His voice was a rasp. "Mari... you are cruel."

Marissa chuckled. It was a throaty, victorious sound.

"Cruel?" she asked.

She bent down again. She hovered over him. Her hair created a curtain around them, shutting out the rest of the room.

Her face was inches away from his. Her lips were so close he could feel the heat radiating from them.

"Isn’t that one of the reasons you love me?" she asked.

She smiled. Her breath tickled his face.

"You said you loved the schemer," she reminded him. "You said you loved the ruthless woman."

She brushed her lips against his. A feather-light touch.

"This is who I am, Derek," she whispered against his mouth.

She kissed him. It was a short, teasing kiss. She tasted him, then pulled back just an inch.

Derek chased her lips, lifting his head, straining against the bonds.

She retreated again, just out of reach.

"Please, Mari," Derek begged. His voice was raw. "Please."

He looked at her with desperate, hungry eyes. He surrendered. He gave up all control. He was the Grand Duke, the Commander of the North, the most powerful man in the kingdom.

But in this bed, bound by a silk ribbon and his own desire, he belonged completely to her, waiting on her mercy.