In Expert Hands

by Lily Harlem

  “But you’re willing to try and understand, which means we’ll make it work, Imogen. I know we will.” He gathered her close.

  “Yes we will, and being yours is exactly what I want to be.”

  “Thank the Lord for that.” He smiled then pressed his mouth to hers.

  She melted against him. Her heart swelled. She was in love with a wonderful, exciting, vibrant man, and the future held so much promise. She was high, not just physically by being on top of the Empire State Building, but also emotionally. She felt like she could fly. Soar above the skyscrapers, take the whole world on. Happiness was a good feeling, and she’d do everything she could to ensure it stayed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Imogen took one red rose back to The Four Seasons hotel and set it on the piano. The red petals were stunning next to the shiny black wood.

  “Are you tired?” Kane asked, removing the slim tie he’d worn with his suit then undoing the top button of his shirt.

  “No.” She studied him. Thoughts of going to sleep couldn’t be further from her mind. She had a hot man now. Someone who could take her to wonderful places and play her body like a musical instrument—why would she want to sleep?

  “Good, because I have plans for you.”

  “That sounds interesting.”

  “It is.” He removed his shirt so that he was bare-chested.

  Imogen’s mouth watered at the sight of his sun-kissed skin and the three stars inked onto his flesh. She wanted to touch him, lick him, feel his body pushing up against hers—pushing into hers.

  He walked over to her and stooped. He carefully removed her shoes the way he had her boots that first night.

  She stared at the top of his head and watched the tendons in his shoulders shift as he moved.

  He straightened, towering over her now she’d lost her heels. “This way.” He linked their fingers and tugged her to the room he’d used earlier to shower and change.

  When he opened the door Imogen paused.

  This bedroom room was quite different to the one she’d been using. The walls were painted a darker shade and the drapes at the window black. The bed had silky gray sheets and pillows, and two lamps with burgundy shades gave the room a sultry glow.

  Standing in the middle of the room was a padded leather bench. It was like the one she’d seen at the club. The first night she’d witnessed it in use, the submissive had been tied, spanked and fucked as she lay over it.

  She glanced at Kane.

  He tilted his chin and his eyes narrowed.

  That was him feeling vulnerable, she knew that now. He was showing her something that was very personal to him yet trying to act like it didn’t matter.

  It did.

  “You’ve been busy,” she said. “Planning.”

  “I told you, I plan everything.”

  “So you do.” She stepped away from him and ran her fingertip over the cool black leather on the bench. She couldn’t deny that she was excited to see it. She’d thought of it several times. After the cross it was the piece of apparatus she was the most interested in.

  The door to the room clicked shut.

  At the side of the bench, a mirror had been leaned against the wall. It was huge, eight feet by eight feet, and perfect for whoever was on the bench to turn to the side and see their reflection.

  Imogen stepped around the head section, tracing her fingers over the stitching. A table had been set next to the bench. It held a small brown leather bag and one long length of slim black rope.

  She looked at Kane. He was standing with his arms at his sides, his jaw was set tight and he was studying her with an intensity that made her insides quiver.

  “Is this for…?” She held up the rope and the end slithered to the floor.

  “Shibari, yes.”

  “You want to tie me up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like the girls in the pictures at the club.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I ask one question?”

  “Of course.” He folded his arms with his hands tight beneath his armpits and his biceps flexed against his knuckles.

  “Why? What do you get from it?”

  “What do I get from it?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Yes.”

  “I get to see you with my ropes over your beautiful skin. I get to have you, totally, as mine. Not just your body but your mind, your soul. You’ll have to trust me, work with me, hand yourself over to me, that’s what I get—you.”

  “Okay.” Her stomach did an excited flip. She really was the center of this show.

  He relaxed his arms and went up to the bench. He pressed his palm over the end. “One of my fantasies, when I first saw you…”

  “Go on.” This was something she wanted to hear.

  “Was to have you bound and tipped forward on a bench like this. I thought for a long time about the types of knots I wanted to use, how to position your breasts, your arms, your legs.” He paused. “Then I spent a lot of time thinking about what I’d do to you once you were like that.” He stared straight at her. “Tied up and helpless.”

  “What would you do?” Her throat felt dry, her heart was racing.

  He was silent for a moment, then, “I’d rather show you.”

  Imogen looked at the bench then the ropes. She switched her attention to the bag, wondering what was in there.

  “Please,” he said with an uncharacteristic note of pleading in his voice.

  A tug of longing ran from her clit to her pussy and her nipples spiked. She’d been fascinated by the pictures on the walls at the club and now Kane wanted to strap her up like that—more than wanted to, he was desperate to.

  “Okay,” she said, flexing then unflexing her fingers. “As long as the safe word will get me released.”

  “Absolutely, within seconds. It always will, no matter what.” He nodded then smiled. “But you won’t want to use it.”

  “Okay, Sir.” She glanced at her feet. “Thank you, Sir.”

  She was aware of him moving past her to the bag that sat on the table to her left. He opened it and took something out. Then he was behind her, undoing the zip of her dress. It loosened and fell away.

  Her underwear was dark and sexy but didn’t stay on long. Kane efficiently removed her bra then had her step out of her knickers.

  “And this,” he said, undoing the clasp on her necklace. “Pretty as it is about your neck, it has to go.” He set it aside, the metal producing a delicate tinkle as he lay it down on the surface.

  He slipped his hands over her shoulders, his forearms brushing her ears. He held the collar between his fingers as if showing it to her. “Do you consent to wearing my collar?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was breathy, excited. She found that she wanted to wear the collar. She understood clearer now what it meant. She was safe in that collar, it was a sign of her willing submission to the man she loved.

  He fastened it, carefully checking it wasn’t too tight.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “Look at yourself in the mirror.”

  She raised her head and was greeted with the image of her naked self—naked except for the collar, which looked all the more startling with her hair piled high.

  “Every thing about you,” he said, slipping his hands around her body and cupping her breasts, “is exquisite. Under those suits all that time, you were hiding this from me.” He pinched her nipples, pulling them taut.

  She released a long low breath. Dampness was growing between her legs. She wanted to get started and find out exactly what he had in store for her.

  “You must stand very still,” he said. “While I harness you in my ropes. You should put your hands behind your back now.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And I want you to watch in the mirror, very carefully, so you see how prettily I bind my ties around your body.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He reached for the rope. The end trailed snake-like on the carpet.
The first loop went over her upper chest, just beneath her collarbones. He fiddled at her back, between her shoulder blades, then created another loop over the top rise of her breasts. Again he fiddled, knotting and weaving next to her spinal column.

  He was silent. So was she. The sounds and feel of his breath warmed her skin.

  Another loop of rope went over her breasts, just below her nipples. He gently eased her flesh so her breasts were trapped in the center of the two binds. The result was, when he’d tightened it, that her nipples were engorged and her breasts appeared swollen in their confines.

  He stood before her, studied his work, adjusted the rope slightly then wrapped more around the base of her ribs.

  She stood very still, fingers locked and watching his reflection as he busied around her. He had a look of absolute concentration and occasionally swept his tongue over his bottom lip. There was a bulge in his suit trousers, his erection an outline against the material.

  On and on he continued, taking in her wrists now and trapping them in the string of knots she could feel nudging her vertebrae. Her nipples tingled, her breasts reddened. She tried to shift her shoulders but couldn’t.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He paused and stroked his thumb over her mouth. He then smiled and kissed her. The kiss lingered until he caught her bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged, stretching her skin.

  She caught her breath and stared into his eyes.

  Excitement danced there, as did lust.

  He released her lip and went back to carefully binding her waist and over the curve of her hips.

  Imogen’s lip stung—she could still feel him there. Her breasts were aching in a low humming sensation, and her pussy was becoming damper, her folds swelling.

  He dropped to his knees behind her and ran his hands over the ropes, his fingers weaving in and around them. “Perfect,” he murmured. “It’s perfect.”

  Imogen tensed her arms against the knots. She was well and truly trussed up.

  He stood, moved in front of her and pressed his hands over her full breasts. “How does it feel?”

  She thought for a moment. “Constricting.”

  “Is it too tight anywhere?”

  “No.”

  “You must tell me.” He frowned.

  “No, it’s fine. I just know I can’t move. If I fell I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

  “I’d catch you.” He drifted his hands over the ropes, up to her face. “But you won’t fall. I won’t let you. You’re my responsibility and all I can and will think about. If you were hurt I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

  Imogen relaxed her shoulders within the rope.

  He must have seen what she’d done. “That’s it, breathe normally. It’s all fine.”

  She let her arms relax rather than holding them tense.

  “That’s it, good girl.” He paused. “It feels sexy, doesn’t it?”

  “I think so, Sir.”

  He raised his eyebrows and slipped one hand between her legs, fingering her pussy. “Ah, you’re wet and hot, you know damn well it’s sexy to be in my ropes, don’t try and deny it.”

  Imogen rocked her hips, wanting more of his touch.

  “Tell me it’s sexy,” he said, rubbing her clit.

  “Ah…oh, yes…sexy, it’s sexy.” Damn, she was so aroused, more than she’d realized, and him doing that…

  “Sir,” he said a little sharply.

  “Sir, it’s sexy, Sir.”

  He gave a lopsided smile and eased a finger high into her entrance.

  Imogen felt her knees slacken.

  “There we go,” he said, pulling out. “That’s why we have the bench.” He scooped her close and steered her to the middle of the room.

  As she walked, her breasts stayed taut and swollen; the rope didn’t move, it kept her bound.

  Kane maneuvered her to the end of the bench then pressed the center of her back. “Bend over double,” he said. “But tell me if it’s too uncomfortable on your chest.”

  She did as he’d asked. The leather was cool on her hot nipples, and as she put her weight lower the sensation in her breasts increased, making them more sensitive and adding to the maelstrom of arousal darting around her body. “It’s okay, Sir.”

  “Good. Now twist your head so you can see me in the mirror.”

  Again she obeyed.

  He was standing directly behind her, still in just his suit trousers. He’d removed his shoes and socks, she wasn’t sure when. He looked so big and powerful, so dark and edgy and full of energy.

  A tremor of anxiety went through her.

  “Shh…” He smoothed his palm over her naked buttocks. “If you need to stop, you know what to say.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She widened her stance. She could do this. She wanted to do this.

  “Good.” He slipped his fingers down the cleft between her buttocks. He paused at her anus and pressed very gently. “But don’t forget that word. It’s important.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She forced herself not to clench her ass. No one had ever touched or played with her most intimate hole. She had no doubts in her mind Kane would, though. He’d said he had plans for her sweet ass, and she suspected that his plans were about to come to fruition.

  A sudden hard slap landed on her right buttock.

  She jerked as the flash of pain shot over her skin. She shut her eyes and gasped.

  “Watch me,” he snapped.

  She stared in the mirror again as the burning pain dulled to warm heat.

  He was stroking her ass as though admiring the emerging handprint.

  “Stunning,” he murmured. “Simply stunning.”

  He raised his hand high.

  She knew what was coming and braced.

  Another hard whack hit down. Opposite buttock.

  Her flesh wobbled as the impact took hold. Her breasts scraped on the bench. She curled her toes and screwed up her face. It had been a solid hit backed up with damn fine male muscle.

  “That’s it for now,” he said, “you took a lot last night.” He stooped and kissed her smarting flesh.

  His lips were cool against the burn and the adoration in his caresses blissful.

  “Mmm…” she said, the now familiar rush of pain stimulating her cunt as she unfurled her toes. “Yes.”

  His touch left her.

  She opened her eyes.

  He was fiddling with his belt buckle. He released it then undid his fly. He pushed his trousers down his legs along with his boxer briefs and kicked them aside. His erection stood thick and proud, jutting upward; the head was already filmy with pre-cum. His hair-coated thighs were wide and tense, the curvature of the muscles evident.

  Wrapping his fist around the shaft of his cock, he walked to the head end of the bench.

  “Open,” he instructed, slotting his fingers into her hair and using it to lift her head.

  Imogen’s scalp stung, sending waves of sweet pain down her spine. She stretched her mouth wide.

  He slipped his cock in, deep, right to the base of her tongue.

  She held her breath and stared at the hair that fanned from his navel to his groin.

  He released a soft moan, pulled out then smoothed back in.

  Salty moisture coated her tongue and her cheeks bulged.

  He stepped away and rested her head down.

  She missed his cock in her mouth. She missed him standing in front of her.

  Her knees shook; a drip of moisture eased from her pussy lips to her inner thigh.

  “Now you must relax,” he said, walking to the bag. “Because it’s time.”

  “For what, Sir?” She hoped it was time for him to fuck her, because damn, that was what her body was screaming out for.

  “It is time for this.” He held up a small black conical object with a bar at the base. “It’s time for me to start preparing your ass for my dick.”

  She gulped. He was going to fuck her virgin ass?

  “Don
’t worry.” He picked up a tube of lube and coated the end of the plug and the tips of the fingers on his right hand. “It will take some time; we’ll start off small tonight, but by the time you’re ready, in a few weeks you’ll be begging for it.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Begging for it?

  He moved behind her again.

  She stared at his reflection and at the plug. That was going inside her? There?

  He rubbed his left hand over her ass cheeks, stroking and smoothing her skin. He then transferred the plug to that hand and his lubed fingers stroked over her anus once more.

  Imogen gasped and clenched her fists. She could say the safe word if she wanted to, she knew she could. But something in her wanted to find out what the plug would be like. At the club, Tara had apparently loved it. It had heightened her experience from what Imogen could tell.

  Kane pressed at the midpoint of her pucker. “Let me in,” he whispered.

  Imogen forced herself to relax but then tensed as his cool, lubed finger slid into her ass.

  “So giving,” he said, “you’re so perfect and giving. Keep going, just like that.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She kept her concentration on his reflection.

  His concentration was on her ass, his elbow bent at just the right angle to get his finger deep, deep and deeper still.

  She tensed her belly, the feeling of invasion so unique. Not unpleasant, just erotically different.

  He added another finger.

  Her sphincter tightened and a stitch of discomfort ran around the rim. The trickle of moisture from her pussy ran farther down her inner thigh.

  He pushed higher, the lube easing the way.

  “One day I’ll fuck you here,” he said. “I’ll put my big dick in your ass, balls deep. You’ll love it, Imogen, you’ll come so hard. I’ll have a vibrator in your pussy, too, and your arms and legs bound. It will be amazing, you’ll orgasm over and over until you can take no more.”

  Imogen whimpered, the filthy promise almost too much to think about.

  He pulled out and her hole clasped shut. But not for long because then the hard, cool point of the butt plug was there.

  “This is no more than my fingers,” he said, pressing his left hand against her trapped wrists and holding them over the rope. “Just relax and I’ll make it so damn good for you.”