by BETH KERY
“Soft rope,” he murmured. “Rope I have specially made of the softest, strongest black silk. It would look so beautiful against your white skin. Don’t worry, though. I won’t do that tonight.”
Her lungs froze. His lips brushed against hers seductively. A whimper escaped her throat. His head moved back.
“I’m not going to harm you,” he said gruffly. “And I don’t want you to be afraid. You’ll have the power, because anytime you tell me to stop and unbind you, I will. Any time. Even if I’m deep inside you and about to see heaven,” he added, his mouth shaping into a small snarl.
I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that happening.
She scowled slightly in response to her enthusiastic mental voice. His gaze ran over her face. She became highly aware of her pulse throbbing at her throat. “Never mind,” he said suddenly, standing. He thought he’d read fear on her face, when in fact, she’d been feeling stunned arousal. He turned away, swiping the back of his hand across his upper lip. Had he gotten turned on, talking about binding her with soft rope and being deep inside her?
It’d certainly gotten to Harper. Still . . . she was uncertain.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he said gruffly, his back to her. “It’s just that . . . as much as I might want to, I don’t think I can be with you partly. I don’t want fifty, or seventy or ninety percent. With you, it’s going to have to be all or nothing.”
“Why do you want to?” she asked.
He twisted around and met her stare. “Why do I want to restrain you?”
She nodded.
“Because I want you at my mercy. I want to know that every ounce of pleasure that you get, every rush of sensation, every orgasm, was due completely to me. I want to own it.”
She blinked, set off balance by his grim intensity.
“Isn’t that kind of narcissistic?” she asked warily.
His brows arched and she sensed his dark amusement. “Narcissistic like some of your past lovers? I don’t know. Is it?” he asked, his tone misleadingly mild. “Is that how it felt to you on the yacht? When we were on that chaise lounge together? When I was touching you?”
She blinked. No. If anything, your entire focus on me felt like the exact opposite of self-involvement.
“I like control in the bedroom,” he stated simply.
“Just like you do in the boardroom?” she asked with a half smile. “You can’t own everything, Jacob. You can’t control everything.”
Even to her own ears, she sounded unconvinced. She was under his influence now. She could never forget what it was like to be made love to by him. He’d controlled her mind and body like a maestro, and now all she could think about was submitting to him again.
“Maybe not. But many things, I can,” he said with quiet confidence.
“I don’t want to be beaten or bruised or abused in any way.”
“I would never leave you marked. Never. The idea makes me sick.”
She was taken aback by his bitterness. His mouth twisted, and again, she sensed that frustration she couldn’t understand in him.
“I won’t lie. I’ll demand a lot of you. I’ll want to fuck you hard. Frequently, and in whatever way I want. But only if you’re completely with me in the moment, Harper.”
She inhaled shakily, aroused by his words and finding the fierceness of his eyes overwhelming.
“This isn’t about making you suffer. Never. It’s about the opposite. I want you excited. I want you to surrender to everything but the moment. I want you to give in to the pleasure. To me.”
It was like he was on fire in those moments, and it hurt a little to stare directly at the flame.
“Does it turn you off?” he asked quietly, his gaze on her rapier sharp. “The idea of giving control to me during sex? I’m going to position you any way I choose. Then I’m going to pleasure you any way that strikes me before I have you any way that I please. It’s going to feel so damn good.”
Heat rushed through her cheeks and chest.
“It doesn’t turn me off,” she admitted. “If it’s anything like last night, I think . . . I think I’d like giving you control. In the bedroom,” she emphasized.
He spun around slowly. “You’re sure? You’re not afraid?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
He stalked toward her. She couldn’t help but notice he was erect. She could clearly see the thick shaft of his cock pressing against his cargo shorts. A thrill raced through her. She could make out the shape of the plump cockhead. He had been turned on, just by speaking the words out loud of what he wanted to do to her. He halted less than a foot away from where she sat on the bed.
Without thinking, she reached for him, running her hand along the rigid staff of his cock through his clothing. He muttered a curse, his hand going behind her head. She didn’t need his urging, though. She pressed her face against his crotch, running her lips against the hard ridge of his erection. When she felt that ridge beneath the large, mushroom-shaped cockhead that excited her so much, she caressed it with the edge of her front teeth. A fever rose in her.
The next thing she knew, his hands were at her elbows. He pulled her up roughly into a standing position. Harper opened her lips to protest the deprivation, but then he was kissing her forcefully. Angrily? A hot wave of excitement swept through her, taking all rational thought with it. His kiss scorched her. When he sealed it abruptly a moment later, she was panting softly.
“You see why I have to control you,” he said, his mouth slanted in a hard line. His fingers went to the small of her back, finding the button of her skirt. “You’d have me coming within a matter of minutes every time, just like you did the other night on the terrace.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” she breathed, staring up at him. He jerked down her zipper and slid his hand down over her ass, taking her skirt along the way. He shoved his hand into her underwear and caressed her bare bottom as her skirt fell down to her thighs.
“Is it? I thought you wanted me to have control in the bedroom.” He pulled her panties down over her ass.
“I do,” she whispered, enthralled by his face . . . and his touch on her naked, tingling skin. “But I also liked watching you come that night. A lot. I liked that you came on me.”
His small snarl made her blood rush furiously in her veins. She pressed tighter to him, excited by his erection. He pushed her back slightly at the same moment that he took a step back. Harper felt her skirt and panties slither past her thighs.
“You’re going to be such a challenge,” he said, his mouth setting into a grim line as his gaze dropped down over her naked hips and legs. “Now . . . let’s get you out of the rest of these clothes.”
He knelt in front of her, making a sweeping motion with his hand between her legs to capture both her skirt and panties. He paused with the edge of his hand against the panel of her underwear. The next thing Harper knew, he was looking up at her with blazing eyes.
“You’re very wet.”
“I . . . guess I was turned on . . . ,” she said lamely.
She was glad when he didn’t belabor the topic. Instead, he quickly and efficiently removed the garments and then took off her sandals. She began to raise her shirt, thinking to help him with the process, but he stood abruptly, towering over her. His hands grasped her wrists, stopping her.
“No. I’ll want to undress you for sex.”
“Every time?” she asked stupidly.
“Every time.”
He held her stare and reached for the hem of her shirt. He swept it over her head. There had been something in his eyes when he’d said those two words: every time. Whatever it was had locked her lungs.
His unfastened her bra and drew it off her arms.
“Lie back on the bed.” Despite the hypnotic smoothness of his voice, she sensed the coiled tension in him.
“What are you going to do?” she asked when he just stood entirely still, watching her. If it weren’t for the glint of lust in his eyes—not to mention his cock pressing against the front of his shorts—she might have thought he was entirely impassive.
“I’m going to use a device to position you,” he said calmly. He walked toward a closed door.
“Why can’t you just ask me to take whatever position you want?” she wondered out loud.
“I could,” he said, opening the door. She sat up slightly when he walked behind it and she could no longer see him. A moment later, the door tipped wider and he spoke as he came out of the unseen room. “And that could be gratifying, too, if you took those positions and held them of your own free will. But this”—he emerged carrying an indefinable handful of black leather straps and hooks—“will assure that you stay comfortable while holding the positions I want. Remember, Harper. All you have to do is tell me to release you, and I will.”
His stern, steady voice jerked her gaze off the contraption he carried. He’d seen her anxiety while she stared at the device.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“I don’t know,” he said, taking several steps toward her. “You either do or you don’t.”
Her nipples had drawn very tight, from the air-conditioned air, anxiety, or arousal, she couldn’t say. In the end, she said the only thing that seemed evident to her at that moment.
“I do,” she whispered. “I can. On this, anyway.”
He walked toward her, the device grasped in his hands.
Chapter Four
“It’s not as intimidating as it looks,” he told her, setting the bunch of black padded straps on the edge of the bed and bending to remove his shoes.
“Maybe to you it’s not.”
“You’ve never been bound during sex?” he asked, removing his socks without taking his gaze off her. He looked very . . . hungry, Harper realized.
“Just my wrists with some cheap handcuffs once.”
“Metal ones?”
“Yes,” she breathed out, her eyes going wide because he was lifting his shirt over his head, exposing his cut, muscular torso. She found everything about him delicious, but his round, steely biceps made her mouth water. They were power defined. She ate him up with her stare as he dropped the shirt carelessly to the floor. His smooth, golden brown skin gloved his muscles so tautly. She could bounce a quarter off his abdomen. He possessed the perfect amount of hair on his chest—not a pelt, but just enough to come off as one hundred percent virile male. Not that a thousand other things about him weren’t proclaiming that fact, loud and clear. She recalled seeing and touching his cock for the first time in the pale moonlight. He shaved his balls. Just the memory of how round and firm his testicles were, the sensation of the long, heavy shaft in her hand, and that succulent cockhead made her shift her hips restlessly on the bed . . .
“You okay?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.
She blinked and realized she’d been staring openly at the ridge of his cock pressing against his shorts. He held that black device again. His stare was locked between her thighs.
“Yeah,” she replied in a hushed tone.
She held her breath when he came onto the bed. He moved toward her on his knees. A shiver of raw excitement tore through her when she saw that his face had gone rigid as his gaze seemingly caressed every inch of her naked body.
“You’re very, very beautiful,” he murmured, pausing with one knee next to her hip and looking down at her. “Your skin is much too delicate for metal cuffs. I’d never allow anything so harsh to touch your body.”
He reached out, caressing her collarbone with a gesture that was beyond tender. It was cherishing. He slid his hand along the side of one breast. He lifted the globe slightly and examined her through narrowed eyelids.
“I still can’t get over the color of your nipples. Such a pretty pink,” he muttered thickly, as if to himself. “So fat. So sweet,” he added with a small smile as he gently pinched a nipple. She whimpered. She hadn’t known her nipples were so sensitive until the first time he’d touched her. His gaze leapt to her face. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
She rolled her head no on the mattress.
“Good. Let me just put the positioner on you, and you’ll see. I only want to make you feel good. You don’t need to move,” he said when she started to rise to a sitting position in order to assist him. “I’ll get it on you.”
He spoke truly. The contraption looked pretty confusing to her, but he manipulated it with an easy, sure mastery that amazed. It made her wary, too, to witness his expert handling of the positioner. He clearly had a lot of experience with it.
He clearly had a lot of experience with other women.
But his expertise also excited her, and that’s the emotion that trumped her doubt above all else.
First, he secured a thick, padded primary strap around her back and ribs, just above her waist. Various other straps—and she realized, cuffs—came off this main strap.
“Spread your legs, bend your knees, and lift your feet into the air,” he instructed. He moved between her open legs, still on his knees. He palmed the back of one of her thighs, his warm touch making her skin pebble. “Wider, Harper. Let your legs fall open wide to the side.” His gaze dipped between her thighs. “Let me see that gorgeous pussy. All of it. That’s right,” he murmured thickly when she had done as he requested.
He attached a pair of thick, padded cuffs midthigh with a grim sense of purpose.
“Oh,” she murmured in dawning wonder when he’d finished. The thigh cuffs were attached to the primary restraint that circled her torso. When her legs were in them, it kept her bent, spread thighs open, her feet suspended in the air, with no effort on her part.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes,” she replied, giving her weight experimentally to the leg restraints. It held secure.
Next, he took her hands and slid them through a pair of thick shoulder straps. These were also attached to the primary restraint around her middle. He placed the straps around the outer curves of her breasts. When he snugly tightened both clasps on the strap, they plumped her breasts between them. A low, rough growl resounded from his throat, and Harper saw that his gaze was fixed on her straining breasts. He ripped his stare off her to continue with his task. She thought she understood his reaction. Even she thought her breasts looked like a sexy decadence, plumped as they were by the shoulder straps, the pink nipples poking upward, the pale delicacy of the globes highlighted by the stark black restraints. His rigid stare had made her recall all too vividly how excited he’d gotten on the yacht as he played with her breasts, how he’d teased and pleasured her until she wanted to scream. How much more focused would he be, given the positioner and the freedom of his skilled hands, not to mention her helplessness to move?
She was finding this almost ridiculously exciting.
“Now we just need to restrain your wrists,” he said, interrupting her unfurling fantasies.
He lifted another cuff that was attached, again, to the primary torso restraint. She lifted her head, watching him. He slid the padded cuff around her wrist, tightening it snugly. When he was finished, her elbows were bent, her arms resting comfortably on the mattress. Her wrists were restrained on each side of her body just above her waist. She tugged at them experimentally and shifted her body, her breasts heaving between the shoulder straps. Heat swept through her chest and cheeks at the graphic realization that she was trussed up . . . and good.
He caught her stare.
“You okay?” he asked quietly. He knelt between her suspended, spread legs.
“I think so.”
His gaze coasted over her.
“You look stunning. More amazing than I’d imagined.”
His stare between her spread thighs was like a physical touch. She couldn’t hide her arousal. Her wetness. It was almost unbearable, her vulnerability to him. Her mounting excitement.
“What now?” she asked shakily.
“You tell me that you’re comfortable. And promise me that if at any point, your position grows uncomfortable, you’ll let me know.”
“I’m comfortable,” she assured. “And I will. I promise.”
His smile made her sex tighten.
“Then let’s work on showing you the benefits of the positioner,” he said quietly. He reached into his pocket and withdrew something before he reclined on his side next to her, his elbow bent and hand supporting his head, his manner that of a man who was getting comfortable himself for an interlude of leisurely pleasure. He touched her belly with his pinkie and third finger, caressing her while still holding the object he’d taken from his pocket. Her muscles jumped at the charged contact of his skin against hers. Her head came up off the mattress, trying to keep his stroking hand on her naked body in her sight.
“You’d like to watch?” he asked.
She met his stare and nodded.
He reached behind her and lifted her head gently, placing it on a soft pillow.
“There. How’s that?”
“Good,” she managed.
“You’re wondering what I have in my hand?”
“Yes.”
He moved his hand in front of her vision as if he were doing a magician reveal. She blinked, recognizing he held a small, sleek silver vibrator. It was maybe three inches long, slender, and came to a tip.
“Normally, I’d use lube,” he said, touching the point of the silver vibrator to the skin of her belly. She suppressed a gasp when he hit a button on the thick end, and the tip began to vibrate against her skin. “But considering how wet you are, I don’t think anything artificial will be required.”