by Lynne, Donya
They were anchored in Piton Bay. Behind them, to the east, the twin peaks rose gloriously skyward. In front of them, the most sensational sunset she’d ever seen filled the sky with burnished warmth, making a long bank of cottony clouds glow rust-orange.
“Thank you for dismissing the staff.” She set her glass down and twirled her scarf between her fingers.
“You made it impossible for me to refuse.” His mouth twisted curiously as he eyed the scarf.
“That was the plan.” She pressed closer, biting her lip as she took his glass, set it on the table, and then unfastened the top button of his shirt.
Except for dropping his gaze to her fingers, he remained still, arms stretched over the tops of the cushions.
“You planned this?” He tsked. “And here I thought you were all about being spontaneous.”
She unbuttoned another button and teased the side of his neck with her lips. “Are you really going to lecture me now on the merits of spontaneity?”
Dropping his head back, he chuckled then groaned deep inside his chest as she slowly laved his skin, easing her hand inside his shirt, swirling her fingertips slowly around his nipple, causing it to form a tight peak. “Wouldn’t think of it,” he whispered distractedly.
“Didn’t think so.” She pulled herself onto his lap, using both hands to finish releasing the buttons on his shirt. “Besides, I’m beginning to see the benefits of planning.”
He dropped his hands to her hips, meeting her gaze with hooded eyes. “I told you so.”
Arching her eyebrow, she aggressively pushed his shirt down his shoulders, revealing his tanned chest and torso. Some people didn’t burn. They tanned. Mark was one of those. Must be the Italian blood he inherited from his mother.
He grinned at her reaction, making him look even sexier. “Are you seducing me, Miss Mason?”
In answer, she unclipped her hair and gently shook it out before untying her halter. She held the material to her chest for a long moment, then, with a coy smile, let it fall to her waist.
His gaze fell with her top. An instant later, his palms closed over the undersides of her breasts, slowly pushing them up to greet his mouth as he eased forward and closed his lips around one nipple then the other, teasing, sucking, nipping with his teeth.
Yes. This was what she’d wanted for the last three days. His hands on her body. His mouth tasting her skin.
Laying her head back, she gasped to the clouds, holding his face against her chest, arching, reveling in the pleasure she derived just from his mouth. His exquisite tongue, soft, firm, warm . . . alarmingly irresistible.
Addictive.
There was that word again. Mark was her addiction.
Normally, addictions were a bad thing. Not so with him. He was good. So very good.
Dragging his lips from her breast to her throat, he dropped a trail of fire along her skin until he reached her mouth, searing her soul as he gently clamped her bottom lip with his teeth and tugged.
“What are you doing to me, woman?” he said, his voice strained. “You’re on fire tonight. I felt your heat the moment you stepped on deck.”
She licked her lips and brushed the chiffon scarf over his bare torso, resting her forehead against his. “I need you. I’ve missed you the past three days.”
His hands clutched her bottom as if he had to hold onto something or risk losing control.
Maybe she should help him lose his mental grip.
She lifted the scarf as she sat back. “Would you like to blindfold your kidnappee?”
His fingers curled, and his blunt nails bit into her flesh. A trembling breath escaped his throat as he looked from the scarf to her and back.
Draping the scarf over her wrists, she held out her arms in submission. “Or you could tie me up if you want.” A strong breeze blew her hair over her face, and she flicked her head to get it out of her eyes. “It’s just that she doesn’t feel much like she’s been kidnapped when she can freely come and go as she pleases.”
His breathing quickened as he stared at the scarf. Then his eyes, dark with lust and something else—something leg-quivering hot—shot to hers. Single-minded intent flashed across his expression, setting his brow in a determined line.
“Do you really want to do this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?” His words bit from between his lips on a rush of breath.
No question. “Yes.” She raised her wrists, the scarf still draped across them, tempting him.
His gaze burned into hers, his body beyond keyed up, his erection hard as a steel rod between her legs.
For several seconds, he didn’t speak, but she could see his mind flying in the depths of his eyes.
Finally, he snatched the scarf from her wrists and held it in front of her eyes. She closed them, and he wrapped the scarf around her head, firmly knotting it at the back.
“You’ve defied me,” he said. “You tried to escape. And I warned you not to do that.” He lifted her off his lap and set her aside. “I told you there would be repercussions if you tried to get away from me.” His voice came from above, so she knew he was standing.
There was the sound of fabric rustling, a zipper unzipping. Then fabric ripping.
“Hold out your hands.”
She did, and he looped something soft—his shirt? Had he torn off a piece of his own shirt?—around her wrists several times before knotting it.
Then his voice came from directly beside her ear, soft and tender. “If you want to stop, say ‘ginger.’ It’s called a safe word. This is how I’ll know you’ve had enough and don’t want to play anymore.”
She nodded.
“Say it now.”
“Ginger.”
“Good.”
Then he was standing over her once more. “You’ve made me very angry.” He paced to her left. “How dare you try to run! To escape! When I’ve been so generous to you!”
She jumped at the way he yelled, but instead of scaring her, it heightened her awareness. When he’d said he really played the part, he hadn’t been joking. But there was something about the raw anger in his voice mixed with the knowledge that this was just a game that spiked her arousal.
He paced back to the right so he was standing in front of her again. She could almost feel the heat pouring from his body and imagined his erection standing high and proud, hard as stone. “What do you have to say for yourself? Are you even going to try to deny that you were trying to escape?”
“I . . . I don’t . . .” She licked her lips and swallowed. “I wasn’t . . .” What would Mark want her to say? What would take this scene to the next level for him? And for her? Maybe imagining what a real kidnap victim would feel like in such a situation would provide a clue. How would a woman, naked, bared to her attacker, tied and blindfolded react?
Cowering, she lifted her bound arms and tried to cover her breasts. She threw in a shiver to make it seem more real.
“I’m afraid. Don’t hurt me.”
Mark went quiet, and Karma imagined he was trying to determine whether she was being her or playing the part.
“Please don’t stop,” she whispered, letting him know she was okay. “I’m not using my safe word.” That should reassure him she was simply playing her role. Not that she was really afraid. Because she wasn’t. In fact, she was anything but afraid. She was turned on. Unbelievably turned on.
She cringed away, hoping to pull him back into the scene. “You’re scaring me.”
It only took a moment for Mark to recover. “I’m scaring you?” He surged forward and shoved her knees apart with his legs, making her gasp as electricity zinged up her thighs into her core. “You certainly didn’t seem scared of me or what I’d do to you when you tried to run away.”
“I’m sorry.” She covered her breasts, feeling his eyes on her.
“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t cover yourself.” He tugged on her arms.
She resisted, crying out. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Hurt you?” He finally pulled her hands away, possessively planting one of his large hands on her breast, squeezing. “This is mine. Do you understand? Mine.” His palm shot to her other breast and squeezed it even harder. “And I’m going to do worse than hurt you.”
His voice was so powerful . . . so dominating. He said he didn’t get into Domination and submission games, but if he ever wanted to, his voice alone could make her come. She was damn near soaking the cushion she was sitting on, he had her so hot.
This role-play thing was intense, even though she was doing a lousy acting job.
“What do you mean? W-what are you going to do to me?”
There was a quiet thump as if he’d fallen to his knees between her legs, and then his arms brushed her outer thighs as he clutched her dress, which was still bunched around her waist, and pulled it, along with her drenched panties, down her legs. She heard the soft whisper of fabric hitting the cushion beside her.
Then his hands were on hers, and he pulled her arms over her head, behind her. She felt the cold metal railing slide smoothly over her knuckles, felt him tugging and tying, and then her arms were restrained. He’d tied her to the rail.
“You want to know what I’m going to do to you?” he said, yanking her hips to the edge of the cushion.
“Y-yes.” Jesus, she was lit up. Her skin had to be glowing red, she was so hot.
“I’m going to make you love me. I’m going to give you so much pleasure that you’ll never want to leave me again.”
His tongue flicked its way down her stomach, making her pant. His fingers lightly stroked their way up the insides of her thighs, making her legs tremble. Every stimulus elicited an equal response, and she was nearly vibrating out of her skin with the need to come.
Then he shoved her legs open wide, and his mouth landed hard at the apex of her body, his tongue diving deep as the front of his teeth and his upper lip pressed against her clit.
Arching violently, she blew apart, pulling on her restraints, crying out, gasping toward the sky, even though she couldn’t see anything but darkness blotched with shifting, glowing orbs from having her eyes closed so long and her body so abruptly pleasured.
His body slid up hers. “See how easily you come for me?” He kissed her between gasps. She could taste herself on his lips, feel the wetness of her release on his chin as he opened and claimed her tongue with his. “See how easily you could love me?”
She nodded, breathless. More, more, more! She wasn’t near finished.
He pulled away, leaving the front of her body exposed to the cooling breeze. Her orgasm still cycled through her muscles, liquefying her limbs, quivering inside her belly.
She heard the crinkle of cellophane. Heard the satisfying rip of the packet . . . his moan as he rolled the condom on and stroked her thigh.
“You’re so wet. So fucking wet for me.” His thumb stroked between her labia. Then he drew his hand away. A moment later, he moaned. “And you taste incredible.”
Had he sucked her juices off his thumb? Just the thought brought a broken groan from inside her chest.
“You like hearing me talk about how good you taste, don’t you?” He smeared his entire hand between her legs. Then he cupped her and drove his thumb inside her still-trembling core. She practically hung from the railing now, draped off the cushioned seat like lax sinew, moaning with every breath. “You’re a naughty girl. You like it dirty, don’t you?” He pulled his hand from between her legs.
She jumped when he swiped his fingertips against her lips. The musky scent of her arousal filled her nostrils, and she inhaled deeply.
“That’s it. Smell how hot you are for me.” He probed between her lips and against her teeth with his thumb. “Taste yourself on my hand.”
She did. She sucked his thumb into her mouth, clamping down with her teeth as she swirled her tongue around and around, lapping up every drop of what he’d offered.
“Fuck!” The word snapped from his throat like a reflex. “You’ve never done that before. So fucking hot. I wish you could feel what that does to me.”
He’d fallen completely out of character, and yet, he hadn’t. He was Mark, her boyfriend, and Mark, her kidnapper, all in one.
Sucking her mouth off the tip of his thumb, she let her head fall back, surrendering completely. What he was doing to her . . . the way he was making her feel . . . she’d never felt more lascivious. More wanton. More unabashed and sexual and unbelievably aroused.
“Fuck me. God, please fuck me.”
Before she could process what was happening, he grabbed her feet and flipped her to her stomach. The way he’d tied her to the rail didn’t restrict her movement, and her head hung between her upper arms as he pressed against her lower back, making her body arch. Thank God for yoga.
The head of his cock slicked her up and down, and then he drove forward, impaling her as she cried out. Her insides clenched, preparing for orgasm number two.
The cushions dipped down on either side of her, so she knew he’d braced himself on his arms.
“You have such a fine ass.” He forcefully punched his hips forward, making her cry out as their bodies slapped together. “Maybe I should fuck you there. See if you like it as much as you like me fucking your pussy.”
Shit, she was going to come again. Now. Just from his brash language and hearing him threaten her with anal sex.
“I’m coming . . I’m coming!” She fell against the couch, her insides pulsing around his cock as he pounded into her.
“You like that, don’t you?” His deep voice practically growled out the words. “You want me to fuck your ass. Don’t deny it.”
Right now, she couldn’t even think, let along deny him anything. She shook her head then nodded. Damn, she wasn’t even sure what he’d asked and whether she should answer yes or no.
“Yes.” She could barely speak. Her words sounded more like harsh exhales. “My ass. Fuck my ass.”
Right now, it didn’t matter what it was. If Mark wanted to do it to her, she wanted him to do it. She was in nirvana, a state of euphoria. The word “no” didn’t exist here.
“Jesus!” His body stiffened midthrust and shuddered almost immediately. “Fuck! I’m coming.” He fell over her back, pumping hard as he grunted through each spasm.
She hung from the rail like wet laundry on a clothesline. Slack, unable to move, hands relaxed as he spent himself then fell still.
Mark trembled and gasped through one final ripple of pleasure as he pushed himself off her back and pulled out. He untied her wrists, took off the blindfold, then wrapped a large, orange and aqua beach towel around her before pulling her down into the crook of his arm as he laid back on the couch.
She nestled against him, her head on his shoulder, her fingers playing through the sweat-soaked hair on his chest. When she glanced up at his serene, blissed-out face, she saw that his hair lay in damp tendrils against his forehead. His eyes were closed, but he cracked his eyelids and looked at her as if he’d felt her watching him.
The corners of his mouth rose sublimely. “Are you okay?”
Her body sang with warmth and love and everything that made her feel like a woman. “Yes. Are you?”
He nodded. “That was . . .” He sighed, letting his gaze drift toward the stars.
“Hot.” She filled in the blank.
“I was going to say fucking intense, but hot works.” His chest rose and fell heavily as he continued to recover.
She rested her cheek on his shoulder again. “I think I understand now why you like role-play sex so much.”
He chuckled and brushed back her hair. “And that was nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Mm-hm. Just wait until we do a whole scene.”
“That wasn’t a whole scene?”
“Huh-uh. I’m talking start to finish. Inception to conclusion. Where it plays out from when we meet to when we fuck.”
Why did her heart always skip a beat when he used fuck that
way?
“So, role-playing isn’t just about the sex?”
“It is for some people, but not for me. I like the buildup. I like developing a scene and acting it out. For example, let’s say I want to play the part of a racecar driver who needs to learn to slow down in life. And maybe you’re a professional women’s basketball player taking a break at the end of the season. We meet at a spa.”
“That would mean we’d need to make reservations at a spa, right?”
“Exactly. You and I would develop our characters, go off to our romantic weekend, where we’d book separate rooms, and then manipulate the scene as we go.”
“Are you saying it would be spontaneous?”
He laughed. The sound was joyous and free. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
She giggled. “Not any time soon.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Well, you’re right. It would be more or less spontaneous. We’d meet and make up the rest as we go, improvising as we consummate the role-play relationship on up to the point where we say good-bye and return home.”
“So, what we just did was only acting out the consummation.”
“Yes.” He hugged her more securely against him. “But you were perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
She rolled her eyes. “I felt like my acting was horrible.”
“Not at all. I really thought you were afraid and had forgotten your safe word. I almost stopped. You were that convincing.”
“I sensed that, which is why I said what I said.”
“I’m glad you did.” He caressed her arm and swallowed a yawn. “So, was there anything about it you didn’t like? Do you have any questions?”
“No, but ask me again later. I’m still floating on cloud nine right now.” She snuggled closer, draping her leg over his. “I might think of some questions after I come back to Earth.”
His body sank more deeply into the cushions. “In BDSM, they call that getting into your subspace. Or some call it headspace.”
“Really? Hmm.” She closed her eyes, drifting. “Are you into BDSM at all?
“No, but I’ve been exposed to it.” His voice sounded as lazy as hers. “So I know some of the terminology.”