In Bounds

by Bronwyn Green

  She shifted and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

  He pulled back and looked at her. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to be crushing you.”

  She stretched a little beneath him and smiled up at him almost shyly. “I like where you are.”

  He shifted his hands from around her neck to cup her face, and he kissed her then reached up and freed the knot from the headboard. Her arms dropped to the bed and she winced a little. Reaching under her, he massaged her shoulders.

  “Don’t move too quickly. You might be sore for a bit.”

  She shrugged as she settled her bound wrists around the back of his neck. “Worth it.”

  He kissed her again, burying his hands in her hair. For the first time since he’d been injured, he wasn’t all that bothered by the time off. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get back to the pitch, he did. But if his recovery meant more time with Ivy before she was due back to the States, he’d take everything he could get.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ivy couldn’t stop the nervous tumbling of her stomach. A simple train ride from the country to the city shouldn’t make her feel like she was on a roller coaster, but this one did. She glanced out the window then at the reflection of the passenger next to her. It wasn’t the terrain causing her to feel edgy and a little queasy. It was all about the man in the seat next to her. After Will had untied her last night, they’d both fallen asleep, and this morning, she’d somehow let him talk her into returning to London with him.

  She blamed it on the post-sex endorphins. What had seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea this morning now seemed like one of the dumber things she’d ever agreed to. He’d found the notebook where she’d written her England bucket list—the list of things she’d planned to do once she was done tutoring the kids. Well, it wasn’t as if he’d been snooping. The notebook had been laying open on the table next to her laptop—along with prices for departing flights she’d been considering before he’d shown up and blown her escape plan out of the water.

  He’d chosen to ignore the flights and focused, instead, on accomplishing her list. Of course, at the top of the sheet, he’d scrawled Intimate Tour of Will’s Flat. And as the train drew closer to the first stop on her list, the more excess nervous energy thrummed through her body. It wasn’t all nervous energy. Some of it was just unbridled excitement. She didn’t know exactly what he had planned for her once they arrived, but she knew that some key pieces were in his duffle bag.

  Will settled his big hand on top of her endlessly bouncing knee, effectively stopping her movement. He lowered his lips to her ear and murmured, “You don’t need to be afraid, love. You can put a stop to anything you don’t enjoy.”

  She fought the urge to turn and straddle his lap—the other passengers be damned. “I’m not afraid.”

  His skepticism seemed the fill the space between them.

  “Okay,” she muttered. “Maybe a little nervous, and definitely...intrigued, but I’m not afraid.”

  He grinned. “Good. ‘Cause this is our stop. Well, our first stop, anyway.”

  Ivy looked out the window as the train pulled into the station, the unsettled feeling weighing heavily in her stomach as Will stood and grabbed his duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slung it over his shoulder. After that, he lifted down her suitcase and offered her his free hand.

  When she accepted it, he laced their fingers together and tugged her into the aisle. There was something stupidly comforting about the feel of his much bigger hand engulfing hers. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. She knew Will wanted to see where this thing with them went, but once his curiosity was finally sated, he’d lose interest. He was young, and there were far more gorgeous women than her in his future—closer to his age, too.

  The last thing she needed to get used with him was comfort. Actually, she really needed to try not to get used to anything with him. And hopefully, when this attraction played itself out, they’d both have some nice memories, and future visits with his family wouldn’t end up being awkward as fuck. She could dream, anyway.

  If she were smart, she wouldn’t have gotten on the train with him. Actually, if she were really smart, she would have left Charlotte’s long before he’d ever returned from his MRI. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret the time they’d already spent together. She’d likely be reliving their encounters for the rest of her life.

  Will lifted their joined hands to his mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers before leading her out of the train and into the station where they’d switch onto the Tube and head to his flat. Her heart melted at the sweet gesture at the same time anticipation fluttered through her middle. He’d told her he’d be giving her the gifts he’d picked up for her as soon as they arrived at his place. She knew he had nipple clamps in his bag, but she had no idea what else was hiding in there.

  One part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what he had planned for her and another part that definitely did. She couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else enough to do the things they’d already done—let alone whatever was about to happen. In retrospect, even if Daniel had been open to the things she’d been interested in, she doubted that she would have been able to let go like she had with Will. She wasn’t sure if that said something about Will, Daniel, or her. Maybe all three of them, but she had no idea what that something was.

  Will glanced back at her and grinned as he tugged her toward multiple escalators she assumed led to a Tube stop. It was impossible to ignore the way her stupid heart leapt at the sight of his smile. She returned it, reminding herself that all of this was temporary. He’d figure that out soon enough, too.

  As they descended and approached the platform, a wave of warm, stale air hit them as they waited, hand in hand. Absently listening to the loudspeaker announcements, she squinted at the blast of hot air as the train arrived and the doors slid open. Dragging her suitcase along behind him, Will stepped into the car, and she followed him, sinking down in an empty seat. Resting her head against Will’s shoulder, she let the rhythm of the vehicle lull her into a semi-conscious state, but she sat up straight as several adolescent boys approached.

  “You Will Darby?” the smallest one asked.

  Will nodded as the kid shoved a beat up soccer ball at him.

  “Will you sign it?”

  “Sure. Got a pen?”

  All the kids shoved their hands into their pockets but came up empty.

  Ivy opened her messenger bag and pulled out a Sharpie. “Purple, okay?”

  The kid nodded, and Will signed the ball after asking the boy’s name.

  “You playing?” one of the other boys demanded.

  “Soon as I get cleared to.”

  The kid looked unimpressed. As they walked away, he turned to his friend with the autograph. “Ball’s worthless if he doesn’t play again.”

  Wow. Harsh. Ivy glanced at Will to gauge his reaction, but his expression was completely impassive as he handed the marker back to Ivy.

  “You ready?” he murmured, nodding toward the doors. His voice sounded a little tight, but she doubted that anyone else would notice that.

  “Yep.” She tucked the marker into her bag and stood as soon as the train slowed then stopped.

  The recordings played over the train’s P.A. system, again, including the familiar “Mind the gap” announcement.

  Will walked ahead of her, and they silently made their way to the escalator.

  “You okay?” she asked, laying her hand on his arm.

  He looked at her and smiled. Or, it seemed that he tried to. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Because that one kid was a bit of a d-bag?”

  His smile was more genuine this time. “Yeah, he was. But he also wasn’t wrong. If I don’t get cleared, that ball’s worthless.”

  She studied him for a bit. “Why do I have the feeling you’re talking about more than the ball?”

  Instead of answering, he stepped off the escalator, and she followed. They walke
d in silence through the station, exiting onto the bustling sidewalk in what looked to be an artsy little East End neighborhood.

  She clasped his hand, and he slowed his pace a bit. “You know you’re more than your ability to play soc-football, right?”

  He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Will...”

  He stopped in front of one of many Georgian-era brick houses with a wrought iron fence in front and an old rowan tree to the side of the door. He set down her suitcase and slipped an arm around her waist, tugging her against him. “I’m glad you realize that, because I’m about to show you my ability to make you come.”

  Her breath stalled in her throat as he started to harden against her. She knew he was trying to distract her from her topic of conversation. Or maybe he was trying to distract himself. It was hard to tell. All she knew was that his self-worth and sportsball were off the table, and he wasn’t able or willing to talk about anything less superficial than sex, right now. And what business did she have prying into his emotions, anyway? If he didn’t want to share, that was his right. But his seeming low self-worth worried her, anyway.

  He lowered his lips to hers and coaxed away anything else she might have said. Ending the kiss, he picked up her suitcase and tugged her toward the front door. As soon as they were on the stoop, he kissed her again and fit the key into the lock. It clunked over as he pinned her between his body and the door.

  She threaded through his hair as she opened beneath the onslaught of his lips. He groaned as he delved inside before finally lifting his head and staring down at her.

  “How is it you taste better every time I kiss you?” he asked as he opened the door behind her, keeping her pressed close to his body.

  Even if that hadn’t been a rhetorical question, she wouldn’t have had an answer for it. But the sentiment warmed her, anyway.

  He picked up her suitcase and set it inside along with his bag before guiding her into the house and shutting the door behind him. No sooner had he thrown the deadbolt, he gripped her hips and pushed her against the foyer wall. Her breath caught at the sensation of his hard cock pressing against her.

  “Ready for your presents?”

  Her mind flashed back to that text from his friend Peyton. The one with the crop. She moistened her suddenly dry lips. “I’m not sure.”

  Ivy was curious—about everything. What Will was into. What excited him. What brought him to the edge. What that crop would feel like. What other things he liked to play with.

  “You can always use your safeword.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “All I ask is that you’re honest with me.”

  Ice water sluiced through her at the unintentional reminder that she was still hiding things from him, and she swallowed hard.

  “If something makes you uncomfortable,” Will continued. “I expect you’ll tell me immediately.”

  His tone was firm—almost gruff—and the sound of it directed at her made her pulse pound a bit harder.

  She nodded and lifted her hips against his—rubbing herself against his cock. His fingers tightened on her body, and she groaned at the sudden bite of pain. It didn’t stop her from trying to get closer to him. If anything, it only made her want more. More contact. More Will.

  Holding his gaze, she reached out and popped the button on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow.

  “You said you’d never got off on begging before.”

  He nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue.

  Her cheeks heated. Unable to bear the scrutiny of his gaze, she leaned closer and put her lips to his ear. “What if I begged to suck your cock?”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “Please, Will,” she breathed. “Please let me suck your cock.”

  He slid a hand between them, and splaying his fingers over her chest, he pushed her back against the wall. His face was tight, and his eyes glittered. “Knees, love.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Ivy’s tongue darted out and swept across her lower lip as she stared up at Will, eyes wide. She set her messenger bag next to the suitcase and slowly lowered herself to her knees. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she focused on unzipping his pants and freeing his prick.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she pushed his pants and boxers down his hips, pressing a kiss to the skin next to his cock. The sensation of her damp lips and warm breath so close to his dick made it twitch, and he fought to stay still. To keep from grabbing her head. Leaning forward, she swiped her tongue over the tattoo inked along his V-line before scraping her teeth over the curve, and sending a shiver up his spine.

  He immediately fisted his hand in the silk of her hair. “Careful, love. I bite back.”

  She pulled away and glanced up at him, eyes wide and almost innocent looking until her lips lifted. “I should hope so.”

  Leaning forward, she nuzzled his balls then swirled her tongue around each one before licking along the vein on the underside of his prick. The vein that was suddenly pulsing for want of her tongue and lips. It took all his control not to tighten his hold in her hair and shove his cock into the sweet warmth of her mouth.

  Ivy watched him through her slightly lowered lashes as she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, flicking the tip of her tongue into the weeping slit.

  “Fuck.” His hand convulsed in her hair, tugging hard, and she whimpered. He quickly glanced down at her, worried he’d hurt or frightened her, but her eyes were closed, and there was the slightest smile curving her lips.

  He couldn’t take any more teasing. Grasping the base of his cock, he angled it toward her mouth and painted her lips with the steadily leaking pre-come. Her eyes opened slowly, and her tongue darted out, lapping up the moisture from her skin before drawing his head into her heat.

  She raised her hands and cupped his balls in one then pushed aside his fingers around his shaft, replacing them with her own, holding him firmly. Her thumb teased over his piercings as she took him a little deeper, sending frissons of need pulsing along his shaft.

  Part of her hair fell forward, hiding her face. He couldn’t have that. He needed to see her. Needed to see every second of her sweet, full lips stretching around his prick. Using his free hand, he shoved her hair out of the way, and she looked up at him, eyes wide and dilated, her desire evident in the way she took him deeper with each pass of her mouth. Her tongue flicked across the metal barbells. Each motion shot currents of excitement along his nerves, until every muscle in his body ached with the effort of keeping still.

  Her hands slid to the backs of his thighs, and she closed her eyes and just gave herself to sucking him off. She rhythmically pressed her fingertips against his legs as she lunged forward, letting him bump against the back of her throat, groaning each time he did.

  God, he wanted to just fuck her mouth. Shove in deep—as far as he could go. He wanted to take control. Thrust farther. Force her to make that little noise that tightened his balls every time he heard it. Shoot his load down her throat. Fill her mouth with his come. Mark her.

  He tried to stay still, not wanting to push her further than she was willing to go, but as she hollowed her cheeks and began drawing on him, his hips jerked sharply forward. She groaned, leaning into his thrust, shoving his cock to the back of her throat, gagging herself slightly. He pulled back, but she tightened her fingers and tried to tug him forward again.

  Reaching around behind him, he grabbed her wrists and yanked her arms upward, manacling them to his sides, immobilizing her upper body against his legs. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him, her mouth still full of his saliva-wet cock.

  “Were you imagining that you were the one in control here, love?”

  Ivy didn’t answer, merely watched him through her lashes.

  “Well?”

  She shook her head as best she could with her mouth full.

  “So, you didn’t think you were in control, yet you seemed to be trying to control the depth of my cock.”<
br />
  Her only response was to suck on him, swallowing around his shaft.

  “Makes me think, that for as smart as you are, you might not be all that clear on the definition of the word ‘control’,” he murmured, watching her face.

  Her eyes narrowed somewhat, but she didn’t pull off him.

  “You want me deeper?”

  She whimpered and nodded slightly.

  “Harder?”

  She shifted as if rubbing her thighs together, groaning.

  He wedged his foot between her knees. “Uh-uh, love. None of that, now. Spread your legs.”

  He wasn’t sure it was possible for his cock to get any harder, but feeling and watching her squirm into the position he wanted while her lips were still wrapped around his shaft had him twitching and leaking against her tongue. On a groan, she drew on him, as if she were trying to coax more from him.

  Will sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. She was trying to fucking kill him. That was all there was to it. He stripped off his shirt and pressed her hands flat to his sides so they were skin to skin before resuming his grip around her wrists.

  “Same rules as before,” he said, unable to tear his gaze away from her lips stretched tight around his prick. “You need to safeword, you pinch me.”

  She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, so he pulled back. She reluctantly released him.

  “What was that?”

  She pressed her lips together briefly, then ran the tip of her tongue over her slightly swollen bottom lip, as a blush colored her cheeks and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I said...‘yes, Sir’.”

  Her words punched him in the chest. He wasn’t sure if it was the surprise of hearing them from Ivy or the sense of rightness that accompanied them.

  Peyton had always refused honorifics, and he’d never pressed her. Past lovers had called him “Sir” or “Master”, but it had never affected him like Ivy’s barely whispered words did.