by Flora Dain
I look down at my hands. They’re shaking, and I feel a sudden urge to cry.
There’s a movement in the air around me and all at once I’m in his arms, my head pressed against the soft leather of his jacket, his hand warm against my hair. “Hey, you’re exhausted. When did you eat last?” He tilts up my chin with one hand and scans my face, his eyes hot with concern.
“I don’t know. Last night, I think.” Something inside me begins to melt and the tears prickle again. This time there’s no stopping them.
“You’re coming with me. My driver will come back here to keep an eye on the place tonight and take any messages.” He releases my chin and, after a second, passes me a spotless, neatly folded handkerchief. “Dry your eyes. Let’s wrap ourselves round a stiff drink. I know I could do with one. Then we’ll get some food into you.”
* * * *
The hotel is on the outskirts of the town, set some way back from the road in woodland. As the car purrs to a halt, spotlights gleam on old wooden timbers, pitched roofs and hanging baskets full of flowers.
As we check in, I remember someone might recognize me and rummage quickly in my bag for a ponytail band and sunglasses.
But the receptionist has eyes only for Cade and seems to lose all coordination, turning bright red as she passes him the register to sign. “You’re booked into our best suite, Mr.”—she glances at the register—“Mr. Mason. I’ll take you up myself. This way.”
Our suite’s much smaller than our lavish quarters at the Hall but bright and comfortable. There’s a sitting room, a traditional four-poster in the bedroom, flowers in bowls and a modern, gleaming bathroom.
While I freshen up, I hear Cade on the phone to reception ordering food. As I emerge, he’s peeling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. As he catches sight of me, he flings himself back on the bed and holds out his arms.
“Come here.”
I frown as I join him. “You ordered already? Do I get to choose what to eat?”
He pushes a stray tendril of hair away from my forehead. “No. I’ll choose. And if you don’t like it, you can go without. You’ve been enough trouble for one day.”
He touches his lips to my face. “And here’s that drink.” He passes me a gin and tonic from the minibar, and we touch glasses and sip.
Just then a thought strikes me. “Wait—there’s Nera. She knows. She had a go at me this morning.”
He sits bolt upright, his drink forgotten. “She what?”
“She tried to warn me off you. So why is it so wrong for Jake to know and okay for Nera? What is it between you two?”
“It’s okay for Nera because I trust her.”
“And not me?”
His jaw tenses. “What do you think?” At that moment our meal arrives. The waiters clatter about for a few moments setting up crystal and silverware. They leave the food under domed silver covers, along with a large bowl of cherries and a bucket of ice, cradling a bottle of champagne, and silently withdraw.
As the door closes behind them, I glare at him. “Nera? You were saying?”
“She knows because she’s in charge of the dungeon rota. But that’s all. Your boyfriend can only know because you’ve told him, dancing or no dancing.”
I spring to my feet. “I’ve told him nothing. How could I? I spend most of my time with you—being tied up.”
He grins. “So you do,” he says softly. “Most enjoyable.”
I turn away angrily. The thought of the unbearable pleasure he gives me seems wicked at a time like this. But now I’m tired. All at once the room begins to spin.
In a bound he’s at my side. “You’re pale. Let’s get you out of these.”
Slowly, gently, he begins to undress me, peeling my clothes away, lifting my top over my arms and rolling my jeans down to the floor. Like a weary doll, I surrender to him, winding my arms round his neck and kicking off my trainers when he scoops me up in his arms and carries me into the bathroom.
“Stand in the shower.” He reaches over me to detach the faucet from the holder and turns on the taps. “Put your arms up and take hold of the fitting with both hands.”
Wearily I obey, stretching my arms up high while he douses me with warm water then lays the showerhead down at my feet. The water hisses and gurgles around my toes as he ransacks the shower gels, tearing off tiny caps and squirting the little tubes into his hands.
While I cling on, facing the tiles, he begins to smear the gel all over me in long, firm sweeps of his hands, lingering on my tense shoulders and my taut waist, easing over the curves of my bottom.
It’s soothing and deeply, achingly arousing as he murmurs in my ear, his hands never losing contact. “Keep hold. Don’t let go or I’ll tie you up.”
He turns me to face him and begins to massage my breasts and my tense ribcage. I arch my neck and groan as his hands slide farther down, easing into my groin, the gel sending flashes of electricity from his fingertips all through me as he fondles me lovingly.
“Now close your eyes. Keep them closed.”
A thrill ripples through me as he bends to pick up the jet and begins to dowse me with it in short, fierce bursts of the warm, pounding water. He massages me all over as he does so, switching from hot to cold to warm to hot again without warning and aiming now close, now from high up, so the jet switches from soft rain to fierce, searing force with bewildering suddenness.
I moan and gasp as he torments and soothes me, and soon my arms begin to ache. At last the water stops. In the sudden silence, I feel a soft towel being wrapped around me. His warm, firm fingers tuck it in under my arm.
“You can let go now. And you can look.”
He’s wearing a toweling robe and as I blink drops of water off my eyelashes, he scoops me up and carries me back to the table, keeping firm hold of me as he pulls out a chair.
“Now you’re going to eat. And just to make sure you do, I’ll feed you myself.”
I giggle as he gathers me into his lap. “I can lift a fork. I’m not that far gone.”
His damp, tousled hair makes him look impish, irresistible—a hungry satyr. He gives me a superior look. “Not this time. My treat.”
I nestle in his arms as he samples the dishes, cold chicken and salad in one, strawberries and a bowl of whipped cream in another. He takes mouthfuls himself then feeds me small morsels with his fingers, smiling when I lick his fingertips and suck them clean.
As he drinks his wine, he allows me small sips from his glass then kisses some into my mouth. I begin to feel as drowsy as a rescued kitten. Finally I refuse one more strawberry and feel my head droop onto his chest.
* * * *
“What did you say to her? Tell me?”
I open my eyes and blink. Cade is pacing at the far end of our hotel room, his phone to his ear. He’s still in his bathrobe.
“Enough. I’ll deal with it. Leave her alone.”
I have the impression he’s been talking for a while—about me.
As I shift on the bed he looks up, tosses down the phone and sits beside me.
“How are you?”
“Mm, wonderful, thanks to you. What time is it?”
“No idea. Why? Are you late for something?” His sardonic grin makes me smile. Suddenly I feel light, happy. “Are you coming to bed?”
He leans over me, pinning my arms over my head, pressing my wrists into the pillows. “Not yet. We have an appointment.”
I stare up at him. “We do?”
His slow smile warns me instantly what’s going to happen.
“Your midnight session is two hours late. There’s no dungeon here, so we’ll have to get creative.”
I’m lifted off the bed and told to kneel and look down while he walks slowly around me, his bare feet denting the deep pile of the carpet as he peels away my towel.
“Time’s short and we’re both tired, so I’m going to tie you then we’ll fuck. But first you deserve a light spanking for today’s indiscretion. Agreed?”
Heat flar
es in my groin as I watch his legs, fine dark hairs springing out of the bronzed skin, his calf muscles tense and perfect. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now climb back onto the bed and lie face down.”
I hear him unzip his soft leather overnight bag, our only luggage. He comes back holding a coil of soft rope in one hand. He keeps the other behind his back.
I gasp as he grasps my ankles and ties them loosely together.
“Now stretch your arms behind your back.” He grabs both my wrists and hauls them behind me, tying them together then looping them to my ankles. With a few jerks, the rope is secure and I’m tied fast.
I hear his robe slither to the floor and feel his erection brush my legs as he leans over me. “Now you’re in a perfect hogtie. Anything too tight?”
What a question. But I have to admit that the knots, though firm, allow some movement. “I’m fine.”
He grins. “Good. Now for your punishment. A few swats of the paddle should do it.” With a jolt he hauls at the rope and my feet and arms are pulled high as the paddle lands on my bunched bare bottom with a loud snap.
“One.”
The pain’s instant, fierce and hot, then fades to a hot glow.
“Two.”
He slaps me again and again, leaving just enough time between blows to let the pain flower and fade and for me to get my breath.
It feels extraordinary—humiliating, shaming—and yet fiercely, desperately hot. I’m helpless tied up like this. He can pull and roll me every which way. My groin begins to burn and throb as the simple but effective restraint puts me completely in his control. Each jolt of the paddle, equally simple and just as effective, jolts my arousal, fueling my flames.
At last he pauses. He massages my burning bottom with loving hands, making me glow. My arousal burns even hotter.
“You look amazing like this. I could eat you alive.” He breathes in my ear as he fastens his lips on my neck, his mouth hot and urgent. “Now we fuck.”
With a wrench he flips me over onto my back. With my legs and arms bent underneath me I arch in front of him, my breasts thrust upward, my thighs and knees splayed wide. He leans over me, his face solemn but his eyes pools of liquid lust. “Beautiful. And now you’re going to get creative.”
With a grin he kneels up over me, his erection looming over my face. I can feel heat from his thighs at either side of my head. Slowly, deliberately, he rips open a foil packet and extracts the rolled condom. “Put it on.”
“Me? But—” I gnaw at my lip. My arms are beginning to ache from the unnatural position, fueling my arousal even further. He shows no inclination to untie me. “How?”
He smiles slowly, a new gleam in his eyes. Above my face his erection twitches in anticipation. Way above it, I see his eyes narrow. “You’ve got just two minutes to work out a way,” he says softly, “or I may have to whip your breasts.”
Chapter Fourteen
“What did you expect? Commands are to be obeyed.” Cade runs his fingertip over my nipple. At his touch, it hardens into a tight, aching nub.
He’ll whip my breasts? Yikes. I hope he’s kidding.
I gaze up at him, wide-eyed. Arched beneath him in the unforgiving hog-tie, I’m bound—exposed, and vulnerable. With my wrists and ankles tethered, my breasts jut upwards, thrusting toward his face, inviting his every whim. Would he really go that far?
And how can I possibly put on a condom without hands?
Does he seriously expect me to use my mouth?
Playing for time, I reach out to lick him, running the tip of my tongue over the hot, silky head of his erection. It jerks vigorously over my face. Way above it, I see him smile.
Of course he does.
“Good girl, you’re getting the idea. Keep going. Make it wetter.”
All at once it’s a challenge—and it’s fun.
He shifts position so I can reach. I lick him eagerly, relishing his hot, salty taste, and spurred on by a new sense of power as his breathing quickens.
When I’ve licked and kissed all along his length, I finish with a long, loving suck at the wide, glossy head. He leans back taking deep, uneven breaths, and dangles the rolled condom over my face with finger and thumb, his eyes amused, his eyebrow raised in sardonic enquiry, waiting to see how I’ll perform.
But I’ve been forming a plan. I arch my neck and hook the condom confidently onto my tongue, sliding it into my mouth with a flex of my lips.
I roll it round in my mouth to get it into position on the tip of my tongue and open my mouth to show him I’m ready.
He laughs softly. “Very good. Now let’s see if you get it on.”
I reach out with my tongue again, but this time I get my teeth behind the rolled edge and push and tease the condom onto his shaft, tweaking the taut roll carefully with my teeth to snap it into place.
It’s hard going. He’s so big the rubber’s stretched tight as it gets close to his root.
The thought of my vulnerable breasts, mercilessly exposed and now under threat, makes me nervous. I dread nicking him with my teeth, or worse, tearing the thin film of the condom, but at last it’s in place.
I feel a thrill of triumph as he grins then plunges his head between my legs and fastens his mouth greedily onto my pulsing, aching center, hauling and sucking on my tiny bud till I cry out from sheer pleasure.
It’s made even more intense because I’m still fixed, immobile, my bent legs splayed wide, all my muscles aching from this unnatural position. This way up there’s no way I can flex or writhe. I can only yield and endure, helpless in his thrall.
Just as I think I can bear no more, he lifts his head.
“You want more? Or shall I come in now?”
I close my eyes briefly, astonished at his power of control. I can barely breathe. I reply through gritted teeth. “You choose. Sir.”
With a light laugh he surges up over my curved, arched body and plunges inside me. He takes me in long thrusts while he fastens his mouth on mine, his tongue invading me with its own matching rhythm, a double assault that fills me at both ends in a deluge of pleasure. His tongue works its own magic while the pounding beat of his loins as he thrusts hard against my splayed apex quickly brings my excitement to a head.
I quiver beneath him, rigid in my bonds, my taut muscles braced to absorb every plunging ounce of the impact as he slams into me, his erection propelled by six feet of pumping, triumphant male animal. As he pauses, poised on the point of rapture, my own climax explodes around him, rippling through me in spasms of bliss, its waves like the endless swell of the sea, and we sink together as I pull him down with me to drown in our pleasure.
* * * *
Next morning I wake limp as a doll. The sun’s high. I can smell the heavenly aromas of breakfast. Cade’s pacing the room, half dressed. He looks handsome and toned in boxers and a crisp white shirt as he murmurs urgently into his phone.
As one call ends, he takes another, absently munching on mouthfuls of toast washed down with impatient swigs of orange juice from a tall glass, endlessly snatched up then set down again.
As I yawn and stretch, he cuts off in mid-call, discards his toast and sits next to me. “How are you?”
I wince as I haul myself up against the pillows. “Terrific. A bit stiff.”
He grins. “And you a dancer? You’re out of condition. Be sure to eat some breakfast. I need to get back but we’ll call at the clinic first.”
Janice. I’d almost forgotten. A twinge of guilt is followed instantly by a wave of gratitude.
My orgasm still glows deep inside. Everywhere south is at peace, golden and content. It’s a delicious start to the day ahead, even if it might be just a distant memory by the end of it.
These trips home are always hard, but just this once, I’ve had help. Usually I’m on my own, and that can be tough.
But now guilt creeps in. He’s given up a lot of his time to my problems. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave straight away? I can call a cab.”
&n
bsp; He gives me a dark look as he fastens his trousers. “I’m coming too.”
I stare for a moment then pour some juice and reach for some toast as I carefully detach myself from the thought that he’s doing this to please me.
He’s back in control. That’s all it is.
* * * *
In the car he leans back in the corner, his expression brooding and watchful. His gaze is disturbing and I still burn from the afterglow of his passion.
I try to find words to describe how I feel. “Thank you for last night. It was…indescribable.”
His reaction surprises me.
“For me too.” He looks away for a moment as his hand steals along the seat and fastens over mine.
Bolder now, I try again. “Do let me know what I owe you. I’ll pay you back…”
Abruptly he lets go of my hand. “Forget it. All I want is for this launch to succeed.”
As we head for the clinic, the countryside around us grows familiar and I spot landmarks from our trip to the christening a few days ago. But today our smooth trip in the upholstered luxury of his car is a far cry from my fretful journey yesterday.
It must be fun to be rich.
“I did some checking on you during the night.”
His voice breaks into my thoughts and instantly I’m on my guard. “You did what?”
He’s eyeing me calmly. “Normal procedure. Came across some interesting things we’d missed.”
I frown, alarmed. “Such as?”
“Such as…when that balcony collapsed, putting paid to your engagement and your career, Simmons was there.”
His expression is stony.
I dart him an indignant look. “So? He was filming.”
He lifts a cynical eyebrow. “Coincidence?”
I decide to ignore this. “I told you… He’s creative. And if you’re trying to scare me off him you’re wasting your time. I keep telling you that there’s nothing between us. He’d never hurt me.”