Why did he have to be so damned gorgeous?
He swiped back his hair with one hand, watching her all the while. "I'm not going to take the gag off until I know you understand me and why I'm doing this."
That didn't suit her at all. She shook her head at him.
He dropped into a squat again and put his hands on her thighs. The contact sent her into a frenzy of need, the whole situation doing bad things to her. She rolled her eyes.
He cocked his head, giving her a concerned look. "What? Are you too hot, hmm? Perhaps a little uncomfortable…sweetheart?"
The way he said 'sweetheart' meant his Scottish accent rolled the endearment out, his brogue at its best in its teasing form. The sound of it climbed inside her and by virtue of its power over her, made her vulnerable. Nevertheless, she narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious of his motives. There was a faux innocence about him that she didn't trust.
Piers had moved his attention to her feet and started to unlace her hiking boots. Something about the way he was squatted there—seeing to her comfort—undid some of the anger and tension inside her, and she looked at him, seeing him clearly for the first time since he'd arrived. It occurred to her then that he'd taken this glen over, the moment he'd arrived, mastering it. It was his way. He had a commanding presence.
That was only one reason why she loved him.
But he was now frowning over the laces, his hands crossing back and forth distractedly as he threaded them open. It made her focus. Piers hated tasks like this because they showed up his confusion about which was left and right hand, an aspect to his character that always made her ache for him, making her protective of her lover, that rare and quirky inadequacy that made him seem so utterly perfect in every way. But he was determined, unlacing her boots before he tugged them off, gently, cupping her heels as they were freed.
Piers didn't stop at the boots.
He pulled off her thick hiking socks and rubbed warmth into her feet the way he always did after they'd been hiking. Meg's thoughts ran in all directions. The gesture was comforting, but she was still outraged that he'd taken this line of behavior, marching in here as if they were still together and acting like some sort of caveman, hurling her over his shoulder. Yet part of her responded to it— that deeply buried womanly part of her that longed to be mastered by him.
He ducked down and gave each big toe a kiss then he moved his attention somewhere else. His hands went to her waist. When his gaze locked with hers, she saw the mischief in his eyes and realized what he was about to do. She shook her head violently, grunting through the gag. He'd already undone the button on her hiking pants and was lowering the zipper.
No. If he undressed her, he would discover how damp she was, how aroused. The fear forced her to recognize that was the case. I am aroused.
Only because it's been two months. Or was it?
The situation was doing weird things to her, and although she was angry, those strong hands of his tugging down her hiking pants while she was restrained and at his mercy made her core clench and her clit tingle wildly between the damp lips of her pussy.
"Easy now," he instructed when she tried to resist, her bare foot pushing at his hip, her bottom wedged into the chair. However, there was no way she could stop him now. He was determined, and he was a big, strong man. Because her wrists were tied behind her, there was nothing she could do. The scent of his skin made her inhale deeply. In her current state, all she could think about was having him over her. Did he intend to make love to her, or just torture her?
He rose up as he wrenched her pants off, casting them aside. Smiling down at her, he came back in for the underwear. When she kicked out, he grabbed her legs around the calves and chuckled. "I'm going to have you, whether you like it or not."
Meg swallowed, startled into stillness.
He wanted her.
She turned her face away, scarcely able to believe the enormous hit of pleasure that she got from his comment and the fact that she was a slave to his will. The heady rush made her limp and unable to resist as he pulled off her panties.
When he took them to his face and breathed in her aroma, she had to shut her eyes.
"I think you want this just as much as I do." He commented.
She shook her head, eyes flashing open.
Part of her wouldn't give in—the civilized part, the part that wondered what the neighbors would think and doubted her own desire to be mastered. Besides, Piers was just having fun with it, he had no clue about her deeply buried fantasies.
The cool wooden surface of the chair beneath her bare bottom made her want to rock against it, but she stayed still, watching him warily. She felt strangely obscene sitting there with her sweater and hiking jacket still on, naked from the waist down. The underwear joined the rest of her clothes in a heap on the floor, then he knelt in front of her, his hands prizing her knees open.
Meg resisted for as long she could, then he ducked in and kissed her right on the pussy, his tongue poking down into the hot niche where her clit reared up. The damp pressure on the swollen nub was sudden and insistent, that vital, stimulating contact making her jerk then wilt.
Her limbs turned weak and he made his move, pushing her legs wide open then lifting her with his hands under her buttocks, accessing her splayed pussy with his mouth.
Meg couldn't hold back her response. An anguished moan rose up in her throat. It came out garbled through the gag, but it had to be obvious to him that his ministrations were giving her pleasure. There was nothing she could do about it though. Her body was angled for his view on the chair. She was like a puppet, his doll. The idea of it sent her into meltdown.
When she forced herself to look, she caught sight of his mouth closing over her pussy. Pleasure roared up from that spot, liquid heat sluicing through her groin. He sucked on her tender flesh while his tongue roved back and forth over her delighted clitoris. Darts of pleasure sprang from that point, surging through her entire groin.
Then he thrust his tongue inside her, and she melted completely. Meg wasn't able to do anything but enjoy the sensations he unleashed in her. Hot liquid ran down between her buttocks. Her very centre was alive with expectation, her sex ready to receive more of him, his entire erect length. The brusque rub of his stubble on her sensitive folds added a further dimension, needling her sensitive skin and assaulting her nerve endings. All of it conspired to undo her resistance, making her wriggle and work against him, desperate for relief.
When he lifted his head to look at her, he replaced his tongue with his fingers while he stared at her, studying her expression. It kept her right there on the edge of orgasm, the change to a harder digit making her clamp on the intrusion for relief.
"You like this, don't you?" He manipulated his fingers inside her and took another swipe at her clit with his tongue. "Being tied up and forced to have a good time."
She shook her head, denying it, but it was so true. Damn him.
He finger-fucked her then, slow and rhythmic, his thumb resting over her clit, rocking from side to side as he worked her. All the while he watched her closely.
Stop it, stop looking at me.
How did he know? He'd never done anything like this before, never keying in to her deepest desires so accurately, exploiting them to gain the upper hand with her. Lucky chance, she told herself, part of the joke he thought he was playing on her. The thought annoyed her, and she attempted to whack him with her leg. He pinned it back easily, and resumed his earlier position with his mouth on her pussy, taking away her ability to fight him by giving her acute pleasure.
His tongue roved back and forth over her swollen folds, before centering on her sensitive clit. Her feet lifted, one at a time, and she moved back and forth, grunting through the gag. She was on the verge of orgasm when it flashed through her mind. The only way he could know bondage and submission would turn her on was if he'd gone to the apartment—if he'd found her reading material. The intensity was too much and she closed her eyes. When she did
she saw those magazines, and imagined him looking at them. Women in willing submission, women being pleasured. The very notion that he'd done that, studied those images as she had—then done…this—sent her over the edge. A blistering orgasm rolled over her, every part of her groin on fire from it. Her sex spasmed, her folds awash with juices.
Piers lapped at her, stringing out her pleasure.
Eventually he pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark, his lust visible in the way he looked and the way he moved. When he rose to his feet, she could see the rigid line of his cock beneath the fly of his jeans. That sent a shiver right through her.
He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I'll light the fire, lover."
Mercifully he moved away, leaving her to contemplate the question. Had he been to the apartment? Did he know about the magazines?
It was harder than ever to level after the climax, because of the gag and the cuffs. The accoutrements and the set up seemed to keep her there on the crest of the wave, and she trembled as she watched him move around, stacking logs in the grate and lighting the kindle. The way his shoulders moved as he worked made her long to touch him, to stroke her hands over his muscular form.
The smell of the burning kindle reached her. Then he was back, standing in front of her, towering over her. "Are you ready to talk?"
No! She shook her head. This time, her denial was because she wasn't ready to talk, not yet. Not until this overwhelming feeling of being exposed died down. It wasn't going away any time soon either, because images of their bedroom flitted through her mind. She'd left the books and magazines out. It had never occurred to her that he would call by. They'd agreed to wait until after she returned, then have a proper talk and if necessary, split the stuff they had bought together.
Bondage and domination had long been a secret fantasy, and after the split she'd sent for some literature, indulging herself in it to stave the lonely nights and keep the regrets at bay. If he had seen that, he'd also now seen the way she responded.
Ashamed, she turned her face away. The worst of it was she was fast getting aroused again, and what she wanted most of all was his hardness inside her and the pressure of his body on hers—his will forcing her to open up fully, to receive him.
"I guess it'll take another good orgasm to break your silence on the matter of your sexual preferences," he stated, quite bluntly.
Meg stared at him in horror. Yes, he knew. He had been to the apartment.
His eyes had darkened, his handsome lips pressed together determinately as he considered her, clearly working out what he was going to do with her next.
Meg swallowed, her mind running with the possibilities, her body eagerly responding.
Chapter Three
Had Meg worked out why he was doing this? She looked thoroughly mortified, so Piers guessed she probably had. There was only one way to find out, to ask her outright. She needed time though, she wasn't ready.
Staring at her auburn hair, half-tumbling over her shoulders, and those woebegone green eyes of hers, it was hard to turn away. But he had to. He went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. It was an attempt to take his mind off his throbbing erection, but once he stared into the cool space long enough, he realized that he was ravenous. He hadn't eaten since before he visited their apartment, the day before. There had been several rushed motorway service stops for petrol and caffeine, and he vaguely remembered grabbing some sort of healthy cereal bar, but other than that, nothing.
He noticed that she'd bought local produce from the nearby town. He recognized the labeling on the peppered beef and the range of cheeses. On the work surface next to the fridge several bags bore the name of his favorite bakery. Had she remembered what he'd said about their produce and tried it because of that?
Lucky coincidence, more likely. He opened the first bag and smiled when he saw it was the rustic loaf he'd often eaten as a lad. He never thought that he'd be eating it while he had a sexy woman tied up and at his beck and call. Life had a way of presenting surprises in matters of the heart and human nature.
He made himself a stack of peppered beef sandwiches and when he returned to the living area, he offered her one. She shook her head. Interesting, he thought she might nod, in order to get the gag off. She really wasn't ready to talk. This was what she was like. There was a private side to her that he'd never been able to access. Sometimes she went quiet and distant and he'd hated not knowing what was going on in her mind at those times.
He sat on the edge of the futon, some four feet away from her, studying her while he ate. She kept her face turned away, and there was tension pouring from her, despite the orgasm she'd just had. This was hard for her.
It was bloody hard for him too. At first he'd been furious, because she'd kept it from him. If this was her fantasy, why hadn't she shared it with him before? Was she afraid that he'd freak out? If only he had guessed. The anger had motivated him to drive up and sort it out immediately. Along the way he'd had time to think and plan. He deviated from the route in order to pick up some goodies from a sex shop while his plan began to unfold.
Now that he'd actually unleashed the plan, he could see it all. Never had he seen her so aroused as she was in bondage. In turn, his erection had barely subsided since he put her in that state.
He put his plate aside and stood up. Stepping behind her, he unlocked the cuffs. When they were undone she remained in position as if unsure what to do. Piers drew her to her feet, stripped off her hiking jacket, sweater and bra then cuffed her wrists in front of her again. She offered no resistance this time, and kept her eyelids lowered. The patches of color on her cheeks had not faded since her orgasm.
"Look at me," he instructed.
Instantly, she did as he said.
Piers quelled the urge to smile. "Ready to talk about this?"
She stared up at him, eyes narrowed. The beautiful, lush appearance she always got after she'd had a good orgasm was tempered with a slightly hurt look. He hated to see that, but he also knew it was inevitable. He'd confronted her about her fantasies, and he'd done it in such a way that she couldn't deny it.
Eventually, she nodded at him.
He clicked his fingers before he removed the gag.
She lifted her chin, again responding instinctively when he commanded her. It made him deeply curious, not to mention hard as steel.
"How dare you," she whispered, when the gag was off. "Such Neanderthal behavior…unbelievable."
Piers noticed that the admonishment came out rather feebly. He'd obviously done a good job on her. He grinned. "I dare because you are on my territory now, Meg."
She remained silent, chin lifted proudly.
He directed her to the futon. "Kneel down."
She not only did as he said, but she also rested her elbows on the back of the sofa, as if she had anticipated what was coming next.
The sight of her derriere, naked and presented to him that way made his balls ache. He rested one knee on the futon beside her and slapped her soundly on the bottom.
Her body jerked, but she made no sound, and there was no outrage there.
Instead, she hung her head, and he saw her knees shuffle against the stuffed mattress. She did like it. She wanted to be spanked, like those women in the magazines she'd been reading in bed—their bed.
Piers spanked her again, several times in quick succession. Her bottom was developing a rosy hue. "Do you know why I'm punishing you?"
Restlessly, she shuffled around. "Because of the magazines."
Her voice was scarcely above a husky whisper. Piers glanced over her, from the shadowy cleft of her exposed pussy, to the spot where her breasts hung down and brushed against the back of the futon. Her nipples were hard as diamonds, and the way she wriggled showed how aroused she was.
"No, not because of the magazines."
Mention of the magazines had him back there in the bedroom though, rekindling the surprise he'd felt when he discovered her secret stash. T
here was a whole stack of them on the bedside cabinets, books too. He'd picked up the magazine that was abandoned on the bed covers and stared down at the image of a woman bound and bent over, spanked, much as he had her now. Instantly, he'd known that she'd masturbated as she looked at the image, and that was the deciding factor. He had to know if that was what she really wanted. Once he had a clue, he could win her back. Besides, the thought of having her so thoroughly compromised and bending to his will meant he had an instant hard-on, one that kept resurfacing as he covered the miles between London and the Highlands. Along the way he'd also reflected on her grievances about their relationship. She seemed so proud and capable, yet she had also said she wanted him to take charge. Was this part of it? He was determined to find out.
Her bottom looked so adorable, sticking out and wriggling so enticingly while she knelt on the futon. The curve of her waist and hips made him want to kneel behind her and hold onto her waist while he eased his cock inside her cunt. Not yet, not until he made her admit this was happening.
He slapped her again, and while the red imprint of his hand surfaced, he rubbed her exposed pussy.
She cried out, her head jolting up. Her knees shifted restlessly and she panted loudly, a whimper in her throat. Piers didn't think he had ever seen her so aroused and ready for intercourse. He was so hard his cock was practically poking through his jeans. If only he'd know this about her, but it wasn't too late, he was sure of it.
She threw him an angry look, the color in the cheeks high.
"Think," he commanded. "Why am I punishing you?"
Again he rubbed the swollen folds of her pussy. The trickle of hot juicers against his hand made him pause. The entrance to her glorious cunt was moist, glistening and open. He couldn't resist, pushing one finger inside. "Why, Meg?"
"Was it because…because…" Whimpering, she worked against his finger.
Her beautiful cunt was hot and slick and so bloody inviting. He wasn't going to be able to resist much longer.
Running Wild - 3 tales of erotic exploration Page 10