Wild

by Angel Payne

  Her first reaction to that was…nothing. She didn’t flicker so much as an eyelash, let alone a protest or glare. Deeper confusion set in. She should be enraged. Probably mortified too. Sure, he’d given her similar directives in their playtimes over the last year, but never something like this, literally trailing after him in a hands-and-knees crawl. It was an action of complete servitude, obeisance—of damn near captivity. So shouldn’t the alarms of horror be pealing up and down her body?

  But there was no such dread. Or fury. Or fear. No matter how hard she tried to muster the stuff, it wasn’t there.

  Instead, she took a little breath that vibrated with need. She uncurled her legs and recognized her moist desire in the cleft between them. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt only the mesmerizing pull of the man across the room…the Dom who’d ordered her to his side so he could lift her into unfathomable pleasure.

  Hardly believing she did so, she moved into the position he’d ordered.

  A smile of delight spread across her lips. Trusting him like this, pleasing him like this… It permeated her in wonderful warmth. The feeling intensified with every slide of her hands and knees across the carpet. The journey, along with the tight bonds of her new boots, wrapped the security of Z’s Dominance even closer around her mind and heart, preparing her body for the same paradise. By the time she arrived at his feet again, she was ready for anything the man had in mind. “Putty” was a good word for it. “Pure goo” was another. But Z bested her on both accounts with the words emitted in his carnal growl.

  “My perfect ballerina.”

  She knew he didn’t expect an answer. That was a good thing. All she could do was sigh her thanks and press her head against his knees, repeating the sound as he brushed a hand along her hair—until he gripped her scalp and pulled hard. Her throat tightened to give him a grateful keen as he used the pressure to guide her beneath the truss. With the firelight playing across the carpet, it almost seemed like they were going to be playing Indians in the teepee—only tonight, she wasn’t going to be the squaw. She was going to be dinner, hot and swinging on the sticks.

  She couldn’t wait.

  “Up on your knees, honey.” His voice thickened into magma that flowed straight to her core and coated her sex. She trembled in need for his next instruction, but after he widened her pose by nudging her thighs out with a boot toe instead of a spoken direction, instinct dictated he was shifting to “Stealth Zsycho” mode—another choice that would get no argument from her. When Zeke went silent, he became intense. The benefits, as she’d learned over the last year, were like sticking one’s finger into a sexual light socket.

  The thought, along with the anxiety that still nagged thanks to the pile of rope next to them, made her lungs pump and her limbs shiver. Though she struggled to calm herself as Zeke knelt behind her, she was certain he felt it all anyway.

  “Breathe.” The word was nothing but air in her ear as he drew the rope across her skin, beneath her breasts. She thought he’d caress her nipples as he did, but he scraped his hand between them instead, focusing on the space where her heart hammered her ribs. “Red light or yellow light if you need to stop or slow down. Breathe, honey.”

  Breathe. She could do that, couldn’t she? All she had to do was focus on that. In, out. In, out.

  The task was easy…for about a minute.

  She was able to stay centered while Zeke wrapped the rope around her torso three more times. He maintained a silence that was nearly clinical, focused wholly on matching lengths of the rope and settling it around the places that would give her the greatest comfort.

  That was all before he started peeling her comfort away. Inch by incredible inch. Moment by breathtaking moment. And, God help her, kiss by amazing kiss.

  He began by folding her arms together behind her back, having her wrap her fingers around the opposite forearm so that binding her there would mean taking some of her balance…and a lot more of her freedom. She tensed from that recognition until he ran his lips along each arm first. With every touch of his mouth, her anxiety melted like honey in hot water. Once he finished tying her arms, he looped the ropes around her waist, caressing her skin in his intended path before he pressed each new length of rope against her.

  With wet suckles to her nape and shoulder, he swept around to kneel in front of her. The world grew a few more shadows as he loomed close, eclipsing her view with his bulk. Rayna almost sobbed at how beautiful he was, hair tousled, jaw scruffy, face focused. His battle-toughened fingers brushed her skin as he created an intricate lattice over her breasts, waist, and stomach. Through every moment, he acted as though it were a vanilla-style seduction too, stopping to give soft nips of his mouth and strokes of his knuckles, every move filled with intentional desire.

  Despite her efforts to breathe evenly, air sawed in and out of her lungs like a rusty knife. Like she could be blamed. The man gazed at her with the force of a hurricane but touched her with the care of a summer breeze. Though his knots were secured tight, his kisses were as seductive as August stars. He might have resembled a mountain incarnate, but his concentration was an ocean, fathoms of strength beneath angles of dark beauty. She returned his attention with a gaze of awe…and arousal.

  As he looped the ropes through the crevice between her thighs, his low growl confirmed he’d noticed the same thing. He captured her stare while pulling the lengths toward him, sliding the rope along the sensitive lips where she burned most for him. As Rayna expelled a pleading whine, she wondered how he could maintain his mien of silent composure. If anything, only his eyes changed, narrowing as if to chastise her for begging at all but obviously pleased with the magic his ropes had unleashed in her body.

  Still without speaking, he jerked the leads a little tighter around her upper thighs. Once done, he wrapped them back toward her ass. Rayna swallowed, feeling small yet sheltered as he leaned close enough to push her forehead against the center of his chest. The powerful cadence of his heartbeat vibrated through her while his arms, massive and steady, bracketed her body. He stroked her back in slow but urgent sweeps, his long and mighty fingers working heat into her skin and muscles. As she sucked in a huge breath, so did he. Rayna moaned and gently bit his pectoral. Thunder rolled through his chest again. He pulled her tighter, nearly locking her body against his. They swayed together, pulled by rising tides that were mastered by a moon of need…

  And her Sir’s wicked intent.

  She should have recalled that he’d asked her to fetch the lube. He readily provided a reminder now, pulling the tube from one of the deep pockets in his historical breeches. Only the damn ghost of Shakespeare knew what else he’d stashed in there for his amusement, though she had a feeling she’d learn soon enough.

  “Breathe,” he whispered again.

  Despite wanting to sling a retort, Rayna was powerless to refuse. Damn him, the man knew what effect his voice had on her when he lowered it like that. The magic of it was more intense because he had her physically at his mercy. Bound by his ropes. Submissive to his will.

  Which now included the soft trail of his fingers into the cleft of her ass.

  “Breathe.”

  Since she was chest-to-chest with him, the command literally echoed in her body. She successfully heeded his words while he circled the tender puckers at the rim of her asshole, as he slicked some lube along those dark tissues, even as he spread that forbidden entrance and started to push a finger inside. But she lost the battle when he fished in the pocket of doom again. His hand came back out quickly. Should that make her relieved or worried?

  When he spoke, his voice rasping the air with nasty knowingness, she got her answer.

  “You’re such a good Girl Scout. Brand-new lip balm, right in the front pocket of your purse. Remind me to be a good Boy Scout and buy you some more.”

  Worried. She needed to be very, very worried.

  She expressed as much in another tight whimper, not that he let her get far with it. The sound became a full cry
as he pushed the tube halfway in, giving it a little twist so the lube was spread too.

  “Ahhh!”

  “Breathe.”

  “Damn it,” she snapped. “Stop telling me to— Ohhh! Ahhhh!”

  As he spread her ass and seated the rest of the tube in, her body went taut to accommodate the invasion. Zeke’s gratified growl, along with the way he started braiding the rope into a restraining harness across her ass, were little consolation for her new discomfort. “Sshhh,” he admonished when she flung a frustrated huff. “Breathe and accept it, bird.”

  Her teeth locked. “I am breath—”

  He severed her attitude by sweeping a hand up, yanking her head back, and crushing his mouth to hers in raw possession. In an instant, her brain was mush again. Her equilibrium vanished. The only elements keeping her upright were the cliff of his body, the haven of his kiss.

  As he dragged his lips back, she struggled to pry open her eyes. Oh God, she didn’t want to. Though her ass still hurt, the warmth in her blood made it better. And the heat in her pussy. And the firestorm in which her head now spun. She was achingly aware of the shaky sigh she emitted…and of Zeke’s breath mingling with it as he moved his hand to cradle her chin, keeping her head aloft.

  “Keep them closed.” His voice blended with the storm, thick as thunder, silken as rain. “Surrender to the darkness, little bird. Lose yourself in it. Fly in it…for me.”

  Yes.

  She was conscious of wetting her lips, struggling to summon the words to them, but nothing escaped save the breaths he’d been demanding of her every two seconds. She was nothing but air, light and fragile yet strong and essential, mastered by every move Z made, every touch he gave, every new knot he tied. As the ropes dug into her skin, the gates creaked open a little wider on her soul.

  And she flew.

  The floor disappeared beneath her. So did the pressure on her knees, even gravity itself. A dim corner of her brain questioned what was going on, but the gentle creak of the truss gave up the answer, along with Zeke’s soft snarl. He’d bound her and suspended her.

  And it was heaven.

  She let her limbs go totally limp. Sure enough, the ropes kept her in place better than a safety net. She was weightless. Boundless. She felt like a precious treasure, an erotic jewel waiting to be claimed by her owner. New shivers claimed her vagina and sizzled through her pussy, especially as Zeke adjusted the suspension lines to spread her legs a little wider. Someplace precious and primal in her soul knew exactly for what he was preparing her, igniting every inch of her skin with new heat.

  This was more amazing than she’d dreamed. She almost laughed from the realization. God, she’d been so worried about all the old shit this experience might stir up, it’d blocked her from considering the new vistas it might open. The incredible levels of erotic awakening to which it would help her soar…

  The next moment, Zeke was there to show her just how high.

  If the panther-like sound from his throat didn’t give away his arrival between her legs, the press of his thighs certainly did. From the way his massive muscles flexed against hers, opening her body more, she could tell he was standing now. He grabbed the ropes that bound her waist in order to slide her tighter back against him, which tightened the cinch against her ass. The balm tube slid in a little deeper, making every muscle clench around it…and sending a new ache deep into her pussy for good measure. She moaned, feeling her sex shiver as new drops of need formed.

  “My beautiful little firebird.” Zeke let both his hands trail down her suspended legs. His fingers roamed over the laces of both her boots before circling around to flow up again, teasing the backs of her knees and inner thighs.

  Don’t stop there. Please…please keep going…

  She needed his fingers in her sex. Needed him to spread her labia with his big thumbs, stretching her for something even more massive after them. She needed his knowing strokes on the ridge of her clit, drawing her desire to heights that nobody else could.

  She needed him. Only him.

  At the first brush of his fingers between her legs, she moaned. As he plunged two fingers into her, she shrieked.

  “Holy fuck.” Z added a third finger, penetrating with more insistence. “Your pussy has never felt more perfect, subbie.” With his other hand, he yanked at the loops of his breeches, which parted easily. The irony wasn’t lost on Rayna. That those royal court designers decided to make men’s crotches the easiest thing to unfasten, in an age where the queen’s authority was based on her virginity, had to have been someone’s idea of a joke.

  His cock burned her tender cleft with new heat. Rayna trembled and mewled, incapable of moving much more than that. While the ropes kept her safe, they also rendered her more helpless than cuffs and chains ever could. By the sound of Z’s sadistic grunt, he knew the exact same thing.

  “You’re shivering all over, bird. You cold? Need a blanket?”

  His taunt, given as he dragged the length of his penis through her most sensitive tissues, brought a mix of hot fury and delicious frustration. She didn’t know whether to yell or sob. In the end, a strained moan won out, courtesy of him guiding the barbell in his frenulum to the edge of her vagina and rubbing it there with excruciating leisure.

  “S-Sir,” she finally managed to rasp. “Oh, p-please!”

  Sweet God, every inch of her craved him. She was on birth control and they’d gotten tested together, so technically there was nothing holding him back from driving all the way in—except that he was a rogue with an evil streak and the self-control of Saint Peter. That was fine, as long as he planned on letting her into heaven sometime soon too.

  She keened again as he wiggled the ropes against her ass. The tight ache of his makeshift plug, along with the feel of his cockhead getting sucked by the first inches of her pussy, made every molecule in her sex go into overdrive. The ropes made it impossible to focus on anything else. She was his completely captive plaything.

  “You know what the sight of this plug in your ass does to me, honey?” Zeke’s voice was as unrelenting as his hands, which now used the ends of the ass harness to pull her back, giving her another fraction of his stalk. “Makes my cock leak that sweet precome all over your pussy. I know you love tasting me like that… Maybe the next time I let you fly, I’ll let you suck on me a little before I spread you and fuck you. But right now, the sight of my juice all over your cunt just makes me want to do one thing.

  “I’m going to fuck you good and hard, firebird.”

  Chapter Three

  With the ropes in his fists and her scream in his ears, Zeke heaved his little subbie all the way back, impaling her body with his.

  He groaned, lost in the deepest pleasure he’d ever known. Her channel was soaking wet for him, a grip of heat and tremors that wrapped his dick in tight bands of ecstasy. With every thrust, it got better. He coiled more torque into one of his arms, using only that one to pull on the harness so he could be free to smack her sweet ass every time he yanked her back. As if his cock needed any more incentive. Her cries, growing more exigent each second, told him that the tube in her anus was working its magic too. That pressure on her G spot, in conjunction with his erection, made her damn close to climaxing from the inside out. Once she did, he’d be ready to layer it with the swipes to her clit that would send her over the edge.

  There was just one hitch to that plan. The fact that every plunge into her pussy made his dick scream louder for release. He clenched his teeth with the paradise-meets-purgatory torment of it. He needed to think of something else. Maybe like…cleaning his gun. Goddamnit, that always gave him a hard-on too.

  The wedding. Shit yeah, he’d think of the wedding, and—and—

  Rayna in that gown. In that corset. With her hair all up, and her lips giving him that I-can’t-wait-for-you-to-fuck-me smile, and—

  “Damn. Oh damn, Ray-bird. Nobody makes me feel like this…the way you do. Nobody makes my dick this hard, my balls this hot—”

/>   “Zeke! Shit! Ohhhh, Sir!”

  The words spilled out on sobs that coincided with the deep, powerful pulls from her vagina. All it took was a few knowing strokes to her stiff clit, and he dissolved the words into hoarse screams. As she reached her pleasure, he finally took his. The explosion was hot, blinding, dizzying. Orgasms were life’s leading perk, but sharing them with Rayna had elevated these moments to a joy that far surpassed the release from his cock. Spilling his seed into her body made him feel…whole. Completed.

  It made him feel like he’d finally found his home.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  The oath echoed in his senses at least a hundred times as he pulled out and leaned over her, murmuring his praise for her courage and beauty. He revised it to what the fuck as he yanked the fast releases on his knots, lowered and loosened her out of the ropes, and eased the balm tube out of her body. Though his panic eased during the familiar routine of aftercare, including Vitamin E oil on the spots where the ropes had chafed the hardest, the discomfort nagged the back of his mind like a top-forty ballad with a shitty but addictive chorus.

  He blamed the mush attack on the wedding. Yeah, so he’d celebrated many weddings like this before. What better way to salute a buddy’s demise than paying ode to bachelorhood with a mind-blowing fuck? But none of those buddies had been his best buddy…which had to be the logical explanation for the violins that crashed his mental rock concert.

  “Hey.”

  The word, spoken with soft request, warmed the skin at the center of his chest. It matched the woman now sprawled atop him, her breasts pressed to his ribs, their legs tangled together in the blanket. Her voice was undemanding, filled only with her devotion. As he dipped his face to return her gaze, a satisfied subbie glow filled his vision.

  “Hey.”

  Rayna traced his eyebrows with a finger. “What’s going on up here, hot stuff?”

  He let those brows drop. Hell. Just this once, he needed to dig deep and do what he’d never done to her before. Lie. If this circle jerk in his mind was giving him a gut punch, it made no sense to make her share the misery, especially because he was sure a good night’s sleep would reset his control panel. Or so he hoped.