by Zoe York
“When Will gets here, we should look into who owns the land next door. Maybe we can lease some of that space.”
“That’s a good plan.”
“And Cara suggested we reach out to the local school and offer some outdoor education as a show of good faith to the community.” Mick said that like he’d said everything else, as if it were no big deal, but Brayden’s pulse still hammered thick and heavy in his neck.
He’d have to tell Arielle that Cara was trying to play a sly matchmaker game.
That didn’t negate the value of the suggestion, though. “Yep.” He nodded. “Good idea.” He swallowed hard. “Will could coordinate with them.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mick’s eyebrow twitch up, but that was it. Message sent. Brayden didn’t want to be pushed together with the pretty school teacher.
Official party line.
Unofficially, he could still feel her lips around his cock. He had a mental countdown going to tomorrow morning, when he’d finally get to wrap her in his rope.
The secret thing was frustrating. But it was also insanely hot. The phone sex turned sexiest-home-invasion-ever the night before had been off the chain.
And before he thought about that any further, he needed to head outside to do something distracting.
~
Brayden was waiting outside when Arielle arrived the next morning exactly ten minutes after Mick and Cara headed out for church. He pointed toward the sugar millworks and she followed his wordless instruction, parking behind an outbuilding. He followed on foot. She drove a small 4x4, and he wondered idly where she’d hidden it the night he caught her breaking in.
He’d ask her at some point. Maybe once she was tied up.
She hopped out of the vehicle and waved. He watched with frank appreciation, because damn, she was gorgeous. She was wearing denim cut-off shorts and a tank top again. He liked her when she was all dressed up, but this casual Arielle was crazy hot, too. It was probably a facade just as much as the glitzed-to-the-nines version and the Catwoman get-up, too, but as she swung her hips, her feet skipping a little as she ran toward him, he had a little fantasy—where she was his girlfriend and this wasn't some secret affair because he happened to be good with rope.
Not that he would trade today away. Not on his life.
He couldn’t wait to get her upstairs and show her what he could do.
A wide smile broke across her face as she stopped in front of him. “Ready to get my kink on.”
“Come here, you.” He tugged her against him, cupping the back of her neck so he could greet her properly.
She melted into his arms as he kissed her.
“Today’s gonna be fun,” he said, his lips still against hers. She tasted amazing.
“I know.”
“But we’re going to go slow, too. Figure out the limits that work for us, make sure this is safe for you.”
“I’m not that nervous,” she said, uncharacteristically shy for a second. She glanced to the side, and he mirrored her, holding her gaze.
“No?”
“I don’t want to be, anyway.”
“I can be dominant as fuck during sex, but I take my kink boundaries seriously.”
Her entire face brightened. “See? That’s why I’m not that nervous.”
“Good.” He kissed her nose. “Let’s go up to the house so you can strip down to absolutely nothing.”
~
The bead of sweat rolling down Arielle’s back had nothing to do with how hot it was outside and everything to do with the fact she was doing this here, on the island. Here, in a historic home. But oh, it was so beautiful too.
All of it—the home, the man, the rigging already setup in a spare room.
She pointed at the black silk cord hanging from a heavy-duty looking tether in the ceiling. “And how have Mick and Cara not noticed that before?”
He laughed. “The anchor is for that.” He pointed to a punching bag leaning in the corner. “I put the rope up just before you got here. Now, first to give you the security orientation.”
He set his hands on her hips and turned her around.
On the wall was a trio of television screens. Two had a split-screen setup, each showing four small shots, and the one in the middle showed a big shot. Every few seconds, the images rotated.
“Wow,” she breathed. “And is there a cover story for those?”
“Don’t need one. This is my job. Observation.” He glanced down at her, intent clear. “Very close observation.”
He’d thought of everything. Her pulse practically danced with excitement as she peeled off her tank top. She hadn’t bothered with a bra underneath. Then she kicked off her shorts.
Brayden stopped her when she started to push off her panties. “Leave those on,” he said. His voice was thick, rough, and she knew that sound. She didn’t need to glance at his erection to know he was turned on. That made two of them.
“Why?” she asked, twisting her hips.
“Because if you take them off, I’m going to fuck you so hard you scream my name. Because if you take them off, I won’t trust my control to do this and watch the monitors and keep you safe. But mostly because if you leave them on, it’s safer for that pussy that I value ever so much.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t want to pinch your clit with the rope.”
She laughed. “Okay. But just so you know, sex-until-I-scream-your-name sounds pretty good.”
“It sounds fantastic. And we’ll get there if we’ve got time. If not, I’ll follow you back to your place. Either way, I’m in charge right now so stop being lippy.”
“I wasn’t.”
“That was a preventative instruction.”
“Noted.” She smiled as he brushed a kiss against her lips.
Then he was all business. They covered safewords, equipment orientation, and a bit about his bondage philosophy. His lips twitched a bit as he said the word philosophy, but she knew he took the whole thing seriously. He even showed her the safety scissors he had and tested them on a spare bit of rope so she could trust he had a way to quickly release her if she wanted him to.
“Ready?” He kissed her neck, then her shoulder, as he moved around her, doing a final check of her hair—braided and pinned off her neck—before he kissed the other shoulder and set his hands on her arms, showing her where he wanted her to hold her position.
She nodded.
“Then close your eyes, gorgeous.”
He worked quickly and confidently. For the most part, he didn’t speak, and she liked that. It allowed her to relax into the sensation of being bound, of the rope pressing into her skin and releasing the nervous excitement, letting a calm hum of good energy take over. There was something right about how he bound her. She’d had a chest harness before, it was a pretty standard rigging, but Brayden knew just where to set the ropes on her body. He stroked his fingertips along her skin first before smoothing the rope over that line, and he avoided the spots where he knew she was more sensitive.
Up and over, around and around. Then over the other shoulder, carefully framing both breasts. That the back of his hand kept brushing her nipples was almost certainly not an accident. That she managed to keep from arching into his touch was a minor miracle.
She was rewarded for her patience, though. He finished off the harness, explaining how he was wrapping up the rope behind her into a quick release knot.
“I’ve kept your arms free for today. Next time, I’ll bind them into the harness.” He gently moved her arms back and folded them behind her body. “Like this, if that feels okay?”
She nodded. “Feels great.”
“And then…” She felt him moving behind her, then the harness tugged, encouraging her to lift up on her toes. “Just a bit,” he said gently. “Do you like that?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Yes.”
He relaxed the lead. “And down on your knees.”
She couldn’t help but open her eyes and look around at him. “For a tasty t
reat?”
He burst out laughing. “Sure. If we’ve got time.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ll have to be quick.”
“Or just tease you.”
He acknowledged that with a rueful look and gestured for her to get down anyway, shifting her knees backward until she started to tip forward—and then the rope caught her right at the balance point. “Is that okay on your knees?”
She nodded again.
He moved behind her. The rope went taut as he tied it off, then he crouched beside her and smoothed his hand over her body. He squeezed her panty-covered bottom. “You look so beautiful like this.”
Her heart hitched at the sincerity in his voice. At the adoring way his fingers traced the ropes that hugged her body. She shuddered as he raised goosebumps on her back, her arms.
“We’ve got some time still,” he whispered. “Do you want to come?”
“Always.” She was practically panting for it.
He cupped her breast, plumping and caressing her flesh until she was sure her panties were soaked and useless.
“Enough teasing,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
His other hand stroked up her inner thigh, making her shake with need, but he didn’t tease her this time. He slipped right past the skimpy fabric covering her sex—which could have come off, because he hadn’t ended up doing anything around her legs, but this was crazy hot anyway—and started touching her.
There was an art to this, and Brayden was a master. Not too demanding, he coaxed her arousal out of her body and slicked it over her flesh, always leaving her wanting more so the next touch was hotter, righter, more maddening.
And his words, whispered in her ear, were perfect, too.
“You like to be teased, don’t you? You like a gentle touch while my ropes press their marks into you. You’re going to have lines all over you, all around those perfect tits. If we’ve got time, I’m going to unwrap you and then come all over those marks. Jerk myself against your reddened skin and tell you just how damn pretty that is.”
She gasped, because yes, yes, yes, she wanted that. She wanted that, and it was okay. Better than okay, really. Brayden thought it was hot how dirty she could get. He liked her shameless.
He teased her with one finger, then two, filling her quickly as she arched her back and gave her body over to him. The heel of his hand kept a steady, erotic pressure on her clit as he worked his fingers in and out of her, thick and perfect.
When she came, it was silent, but incredible.
Oh, it had been too long.
Her arms flew wide as if she were actually flying as every cell in her body burst with joy. Brayden rocked with her, his fingers stretching out her orgasm like it was made of magical elastic. More, more, yes, oh, God.
When she slumped, it was into his arms. All the way, because he’d released her from the tether line, and then he quickly unwrapped her from the silk rope harness as well.
“Up you get, gorgeous.” He lifted her with ease, then set her on her feet.
Still shaking, she reached for him and tucked her fingers into the belt loops on his cargo pants.
He wrapped his hands around her wrists and lifted her fingers to his mouth. “No time for that. Come here.”
He ran his hands over her skin, massaging gently where the rope had indeed left marks. She’d stand in front of the mirror when she got home and touch them herself. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head first, then he lifted her chin. “Thank you.”
She blinked up at him. That seemed like her line, but the look on his face was priceless, like she’d actually given him a gift. Crazy man who didn’t even get to come. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him this time. “I can’t wait to do it again,” she said breathlessly.
Then she took her clothes and threw them on before sprinting for her car.
This time she wasn’t running away from him. She knew Brayden would follow her.
FIFTEEN
FOR ARIELLE, GIRLS’ NIGHTS HAD STARTED TWO DECADES EARLIER WITH SLEEPOVERS AND GOSSIP.
Now it felt like they’d come full circle again.
A storm had rolled in, so Daphne had battened down her boat and come to stay in her old bedroom at Arielle’s place. She’d brought with her mint and sugar and a muddler, so they were tossing back mojitos while wind and rain lashed the windows.
“Do you think they’re rushing this wedding?” Daphne asked, trying for a third time to haul Arielle into Cara’s business.
Arielle just rolled her eyes. “Not for us to say, right?”
“You’re too diplomatic.”
“Be honest—is there any length of engagement that you would think reasonable?”
“A couple of years.” Daphne threw her hands in the air. “What? No?”
Arielle laughed. “Have you seen the way Mick looks at her? I can’t imagine they’d wait that long.”
“Wait for what? I don’t think they’ve waited for anything.”
“For…” Arielle surprised herself by not choking on the next word out of her mouth. “Babies.”
Daphne hooted. “Right. Okay, maybe they’re waiting for that. Can you imagine?”
She really couldn’t. It wasn’t that Arielle didn’t want kids. She did, definitely. Just in the future. The distant future, when she wasn’t still worrying about the childish behavior of her father. She wasn’t prepared to parent in both directions. But Cara didn’t have that same problem. And she had a man who loved her. Who would probably be over the moon to find out his wife had fallen pregnant.
Who would wait until he’d married a woman to make that decision with her, and then be by her side for the entire process.
She puffed out her cheeks and pointed to the muddler. “Bartender, pour me another.”
Daphne did just that. “Is this about your dad?”
“Everything is somehow about my dad.”
“Can I ask how that’s going? Where is he now?”
Arielle shrugged. “I don’t know. Sunshine Bay, I think.”
Daphne made a sympathetic face. “I’m sorry.”
Arielle just waved her off and they changed the subject.
Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at the door and Arielle jumped. She spun around, looking first at the door, then at Daphne.
Her friend frowned. “Are we supposed to not be here? Are you hiding from someone?” she whispered.
“No,” Arielle hissed back.
“Then are you going to answer the door?”
Not if it was Brayden, she wouldn’t. If he was stupid enough to go out in a storm, that wasn’t her problem. He should text first like any self-respecting secret-affair-participant.
“Girls! I bring food!” a female voice said from the other side of the door. “Open up!”
Cara. Arielle sagged against the counter in relief as Daphne leapt up and sprinted for the door. “You are officially a lifesaver.”
Their third musketeer swanned in waving two big bags of takeout and set them on the counter. “Voila!”
“Excellent,” Arielle murmured, trying to force her pulse to return to normal. What if it had been Brayden? Would it have been the end of days if Daphne had seen him? They would have come up with a cover story. He was quick like that.
“Earth to Arielle.” Cara snapped her fingers. “What’s up? You look guilty.”
“No…” Arielle cleared her throat. “But what are you doing here?”
“Daph texted that you only had stale pastries and a sad-looking mango.”
Arielle shot their other friend a dirty look. “You could have brought food with you. Also, I think you ate like an hour ago.”
“It was two hours ago. And I was in charge of mojitos. I thought you’d have stocked up on food. You’re a terrible islander.”
“It’s not a hurricane. Everything—other than your boat—is still open for business.” She put her hands on her hips. “And you texted Cara in secret?”
“A ha! So you look guilty because you were
having a secret sleepover without me.” Cara grinned. “Never fear. Mick can live without me for one night.”
Daphne groaned. “Argh! I regret the text now.”
“I promise I’ll keep the lovey-dovey stuff to a minimum.”
Arielle waved her off. “It’s fine. We’ll stop being cranky single girls now.” A weird pang of guilt stabbed through her as she said that. It was the expected thing for one of them to say. Not a big deal that she did it.
Not even if she didn’t exactly feel totally single anymore.
Digging into the food provided a bit of distraction, but two more mojitos and a blanket fort later, and Daphne brought the conversation back around to babies and forever love.
“So he’s really the one?” she said, her words slurring together a bit.
Cara nodded her head slowly. “Yep.”
“You’re not scared?”
“Nope.”
“I want that.”
Arielle sat up so fast her head spun. “What?” She blinked at her supposed best friend. This was brand-new information. It was like a stranger was sitting in front of her. “Since when?”
“Since earlier. I want a baby.”
“That’s the rum talking. Also, you’re cut off.”
“Not right away. But like…I want a man. A good man. A family man. Down-to-earth. Salt-of-the—” She frowned. “Do those mean the same thing?”
“You’re repeating yourself a bit, honey. Come on. Let’s plan an awesome trip, just the two of us.”
“We’ll find you a man, too. We can do a foursome trip. Sixsome. All the somes.”
“How many drinks has she had?” Cara asked, giggling.
“Too many,” Arielle whispered. Sixsomes. Foursomes. Twosomes. Her chest hurt. “But it’s not all easy. Right, Cara? You and Mick fight, right?”
Cara shrugged. “Yeah. But in a way, that’s how I know it’s right.”