Bondage And Bureaucracy

by Rynne Raines

  A moan thundered out of her and followed with the sound of the file folder hitting the desk.

  When he withdrew his fingers, Fiona wanted to whimper for the emptiness she felt and at the same time, praise God for the reprieve. Only the reprieve didn’t last nearly as long as she needed to bring her heart rate back down to a manageable speed. His hands moved up and covered her breasts and her stiff nipples tightened further under his calloused palm. She moaned again.

  “It sounds like you might need a little help concentrating on staying quiet,” he said, pinching and rolling her nipples with his fingers. “Agree with me?”

  Biting back the third moan, she nodded enthusiastically.

  “Glad we’re on the same page.” He reached into a small wire-framed cube on the corner of the desk.

  Her desire heavy gaze locked onto two paper clips he’d fished from the container. They weren’t the flimsy little wire ones she’d used for book assignments in school. These were a black and silver metal clamp, like the ones used to secure a hundred-page brief. A shiver bolted through her.

  She anxiously watched him pry the metal apart until it seemingly reached the tension he wanted. He grasped one of the nipples he’d teased into a granite crest and expertly fastened on the clip. The initial pressure locked the air in her lungs. Tiny darts of pain pricked through her breast and followed with a surge of heat that raced down her body straight into her throbbing clit. Shit. Who knew office stationary could be so erotic? Her toes curled when he attached the second clip and another surge spiked through her, this time the warmth started in her face and carried all the way into her feet.

  She suddenly felt like a warm pool of accelerant. All he had to do was drop the match.

  He teased his fingers along her breasts, around the clips that were wreaking havoc with her sanity. She heard the wheels of his chair scrape the floor only a moment before he was above her. Dark amusement haunted his eyes, and what could only be described as a shadow of the Devil’s smile played over his handsome mouth. She held her breath. God, he was gorgeous.

  Jesus H. Christ, she’s beautiful like this. Harrison recognized the wild abandonment in Fiona’s watery eyes the moment he’d fastened the first paper clip and frankly, it made his dick ache. It was becoming glaringly obvious that what started out as a lesson in obedience and restraint for her was seriously backfiring. That was, if the savage hard-on crammed against his fly was any indication.

  He bit back a self-deprecating smile.

  Amateur.

  Her lack of silence really didn’t matter. He had been reading the same goddamn sentence over and over since she’d appeared in the doorway. This was more about playtime and taking the next step in her education. So, the lesson got cut a little short. He’d make up for it later.

  “Do you think these might help you concentrate a bit more?” He gave the clamps a tug. Her harsh moan reverberated in his ears as her lovely back arched off the desk. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small tinfoil packet near the pocket of the shirt she half wore. Well, I’ll be damned. He took it off the desk and held it up.

  “Premeditated seduction, hmm?” He hadn’t thought she had it in her. “Going as planned?”

  Still breathing heavy, she slowly shook her head. Those eyes. Those fucking amazing green eyes were so filled with mischief, it was all he could do not to sheath his cock and fuck her right then and there. But oh, he wasn’t done yet.

  He reached down and cupped her soaked cunt firmly enough to earn a shallow gasp. “You came in here for my cock? Is that still what you want, Fiona?”

  She vigorously nodded.

  “Say it.” He pushed two fingers inside of her pussy.

  Her eyes locked on his, and she struggled to catch her breath. “I…I want your cock, Sir.”

  “Then show me,” he demanded. “Come for me. Hard. Now.”

  It only took a few pumps of his fingers and a tug on the clips to have her come undone all over his hand. Her legs slammed closed on his hips, and her feet jerked the chair into the back of his knees. Her throaty moan scraped down his back like fingernails and a surge of blood rushed into his cock. Her pussy violently contracted on his fingers and for a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to withdraw them in order to fuck her with his cock.

  He needed in her. Now.

  He tore into the condom while simultaneously shoving at his pants. Adrenaline pumped through him at the sight of her deeply flushed and slightly sweat-dampened skin, at her perfect little nipples still trapped inside his make-shift toys. He’d love to see her in full bondage restraints, spread out and vulnerable, unable to squirm even when she wanted to.

  He gripped the desk above her head, looked into her wild eyes, and drove his hips forward. He shoved into her tight sheath so hard that she slid up the desk, her shoulders colliding with his forearms. He drew his hips back and thrust into her again, the tightness leaving him short of breath.

  How a woman could be so tight while so perfectly drenched was beyond him, but the combination tore through him like a wildfire and boiled his blood. His cock throbbed inside her snug cunt. She was so hot, so wet. He reached between them and rasped his fingers over her clit. The tendons in Fiona’s body tightened and her back arched, driving her pelvis up and forward against his hand. The swollen nub was pebbled, stiff, and primed to detonate. A few firm strokes and she’d climax again.

  “That’s my pretty girl. Come undone all over my cock.” He scrubbed his fingers back and forth over her clit until her fine features contorted and every muscle in her body contracted. “Ah, God, yes. Let it all go.”

  The moment she screamed, Harrison curved his hand over her mouth and the vibrations of sound against his palm, the pitch of her muffled cry were enough to finish him. He cursed low and thrust hard. Though he was balls deep in the woman, it didn’t feel nearly deep enough. He ground his teeth against the strength of her contractions and gripped her body so tightly he wondered how her slender frame didn’t crumble under the force.

  “Fuck.” He swore against her damp forehead as the shockwave hit.

  Over and over, the breakers took him under as his muscles tightened and released then tightened again. A rush of hot cum surged from the head of his cock and engulfed him in liquid flame.

  He pressed a firm kiss against her temple and smiled. Before yesterday, if someone had asked him how he’d describe Fiona McBride he may have said something like, “Attractive yet ordinary.” He arched an eyebrow. How completely off-base he would have been. In only twenty-four hours he’d decided there wasn’t an ordinary bone in her lovely, lithe body, and he couldn’t wait to discover what other secrets lay beneath the surface of her conservative facade.

  ****

  Fiona stirred milk and sugar into her coffee and then smiled around the rim of the mug as she took a sip. Her body ached even worse than it did this morning in the shower, but in return, she’d attained a new level of amazing. She turned to put the milk back in the fridge and hissed at how tender her nipples were when the shirt grazed across them. Damn. This new level of amazing wasn’t entirely without cost.

  Harrison strolled into the kitchen while in the process of straightening his tie under the collar of a fresh shirt. “Find something edible?”

  She palmed a grapefruit and held it up. “Slim pickings.”

  He detoured to kiss her on the forehead en route to the coffee pot. “There are eggs and bread. Even I can cook an egg and push the toaster button down.”

  “So you’re a culinary genius. Rub it in. Not all of us were graced with a gift for food preparation.” She shoveled in a mouthful of grapefruit and then cringed. “Jesus Christ. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten one of these before. It’s…putrid.”

  Harrison gave her a droll look and brought a canister over from the pantry. He proceeded to dump three large tablespoons of brown sugar on to the demon fruit.

  “So, I suppose a home-cooked meal at six sharp is
out of the question.”

  “Not if you’ve got Harriet the happy homemaker stashed away in that pantry.”

  “That pantry isn’t nearly big enough to stash a grown woman,” he quipped. “Here, try it now.”

  Brows lowering, Fiona frowned at the spoonful of fruit he held up. “I’ll pass.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and his head, and then waited patiently. The longer he stared at her, the harder it was not to smile. Eventually, her lips twitched into a grin, and she chomped at the spoon. Fortunately, the brown sugar had already disintegrated into a syrup that coated the acidic pulp, and strangely, the combination of the two wasn’t half bad.

  “Better?”

  “It’s no pancake, but yes, it’s better.”

  “Well, if someone hadn’t distracted me this morning, I may have had time to make pancakes.”

  She shifted her lips back and forth as if she were contemplating what cheese to buy at the grocery store. Then, she gave a sure nod. “I’d call it a worthy sacrifice.”

  He smirked and handed her the spoon. “We’ll do pancakes tomorrow, pet.”

  “I may hold you to that.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt.”

  Softly smiling, she studied him over the rim of her coffee cup as he drank from his own. It was hard to believe in twenty-four hours they had gone from addressing each other as Councilman Lancaster and Miss McBride to casually planning a pancake breakfast after a morning of mind-blowing sex.

  But didn’t it feel so natural? So comfortable? So right? Would it be too farfetched to think they could keep seeing each other after this weekend? Would Harrison even want that?

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Harrison dragged a sheet of paper from his back pocket and handed it to her.

  “What’s this? Homework?”

  “Sort of.” The playfulness in his tone from earlier fell flat as he began to explain. “Check off any of the things you might want to explore in the future. It’ll give us an idea of who and who not to introduce you to at the club tonight. Then, if you decide you want a membership, you’ll already know some people with similar kinks.”

  “Oh.” Her heart sank. “Of course. Right. That makes perfect sense.”

  Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

  “I’ll get started on it as soon as you leave.” She spooned another mouthful of grapefruit and forced an awkward smile while her stomach knotted further. This was ridiculous. It was nothing more than a crush, like the puppy love she experienced for her eleventh grade science teacher, with the dazzling blue eyes and a passion for horticulture. She was a thirty-year-old divorcee, not a sophomore in high school. She scrubbed her knuckles over the little pang in her chest. Obviously her nerves about exploring a new scene and seeing new people were making her a little clingy.

  “I better get going. Senator Adams whines when he has to wait.”

  “Of course. Yes. Go.”

  Harrison closed the distance between them and gently fingered a strand of hair off her cheek. “You’re sure you’ll be fine here by yourself?”

  His sudden tenderness warmed her and a genuine smile tugged at her mouth. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Good.” He fisted her hair in his hand and gave a quick tug that left her short of breath. His eyes roamed over her face in that calm and quiet, assessing way that made her feel like he could see all the way to her soul.

  Then, he kissed her. Devastatingly slow. Expertly pressured. His lips moved, coasted, and caressed hers so tenderly and thoroughly her skin warmed. Her stomach plummeted, and she couldn’t stop from sighing into his mouth as his tongue stroked alongside hers. Had they been on the set of a movie, her leg would most certainly have lifted.

  “Mmm.” He grasped her shoulders and eased her away. “I’ll be home around six, and I expect you to be wearing nothing but a smile.”

  “Oh, really?” A thrill zipped up her spine.

  “Mmmhmm.” He gave her another quick kiss then grabbed his wallet off the island counter top. “See you at six.”

  ****

  “What the fuck do you mean she’s not there?” Daniel Forrester ground out into the handset of his telephone.

  “It’s just like I said,” the private photographer drawled in a thick New Yorker accent. “She ain’t here.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes and braced his forearms on his desk. It wasn’t easy dealing with imbeciles, but he’d damned near made a profession out of it. He took a measured breath, straightened his tie, and spoke slowly. “Did you see her come out?”

  “Nah. Lancaster was by himself.”

  “Then she’s still in there, you idiot!” he shouted into the speaker.

  “Look, pal, there ain’t no need to shout. I been thinking maybe she slipped out or something. You know, when I wasn’t looking.”

  Daniel ground his teeth.

  “Listen to me, you stupid little fuck. I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to point your goddamn camera and shoot. If you want your money, you’ll sit in that parking garage until she comes out. I don’t give a damn if you’re there till Monday morning. Get the damn shot.” He slammed the phone down so hard the bottom of the receiver snapped off. “Piece of shit.”

  Nostrils flared, he sat back in his chair and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. Oh, yeah. The bitch was there. And the bitch would eventually have to leave. It was just a matter of time.

  “She thinks she can make a fool out of me,” he sneered. “She has no idea who she’s dealing with.”

  Chapter Seven

  Six o’clock could not have arrived soon enough.

  Harrison removed his key from the ignition, retrieved his briefcase from the backseat of his sedan and then stepped out into the parking garage of his building. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins as he circled to the trunk of the car. The afternoon turned out successful enough to warrant such a high, but he knew his mood had zero to do with the potential support of Senator Adams and everything to do with the woman he woke beside this morning.

  Fiona McBride was as addictive a substance as they came, he’d realized halfway through his luncheon when he remembered the brown sugar and citrus taste of her mouth and pitched a tent in his five hundred dollar slacks while sitting at a table with four middle-aged and balding men.

  Thank Christ for white linen table clothes.

  He bit back a wry smile and reached inside the trunk for the package he’d had discreetly delivered to his office. His cell phone vibrated for the fourth time in three hours and for the fourth time, he ignored it. Maybe it was rude to dodge his little brother’s calls, but in the end, it was better this way. In general, the man was high strung. But if he were to toss in the beautiful ex-wife of his political opposition on top of entering into the most important election of Harrison’s career, Marcus would go into cardiac arrest. No. Little brother was best left in the dark on this one.

  Tucking the parcel under his arm, he slammed the trunk and headed for the service elevator. Would Fiona obey his instruction and be wearing nothing but that sassy smile? Or maybe she’d forgotten and he would have a reason to spank that sweet ass of hers. Both scenarios catered to a different need in him.

  With a grin, he stepped into the empty elevator car and jabbed the button for the seventh floor like he did almost every day. Only this time felt different. The car lurched into motion, and his fingers twitched on his briefcase as he thought about what he was returning home to.

  It wasn’t as if he’d never considered what it would be like to have his two worlds collide. Although his career demanded most of his attention and time over the last decade, the concept of marriage and children one day had always appealed to him. Up until now, he had made a point of keeping his run-of-the-mill routine and his kink separated while maintaining an open mind should he ever meet a woman who he could envision moving between both worlds with ease. And, he couldn’t deny that his temporary arrangement with Fiona had his wheels spinning.

  Was this strange sensation tightening his chest what it would feel like every day if he had
a permanent submissive and partner in his life? Someone who would attend charity events and political debates on his arm yet submit her body, mind, and soul to his darkest desires? Someone like…Fiona?

  Those are dangerous thoughts, Lancaster. Real dangerous.

  They certainly were.

  But the danger didn’t stop him from thinking them. Already, his mind had painted a fairly detailed picture of what it would be like to come home to her, dine with her, share with her, go to bed with her, and wake up to her. Only in his fantasy, Fiona wasn’t concerned about reputations or politics. Remembering the panic in her eyes when she had thought he was suggesting they attend a public fetish club together, Harrison frowned.

  It was becoming glaringly obvious to him that the governor had raised his daughter to regard public opinion above all else. It was the reason she had initially declined his offer for help even if it meant freezing her ass off in the frigid wind while waiting for a cab. When he suggested she spend the weekend, the first thing she mentioned was the election.

  Irritated, Harrison scrubbed a hand over his mouth and swore softly. “You’re thinking like she belongs to you, which she does not.”

  They were doing each other a favor. That was all.

  She wanted answers about D/s, and he needed a submissive body to bury his cock in so he didn’t go mad from withdrawal. It was a perfect scenario that came at an ideal time. Could there be more to it?

  No question, Fiona was an amazing woman who would make some lucky bastard a great submissive partner one day. Could the lucky bastard be him? He arched his brow and tapped his keys against his lips. They already knew they played well together. They were both intelligent, consensual, attractive adults. They were both single. Other than her concerns about the media hounds and the negative impact their association might have on his career, he couldn’t see a reason why they couldn’t at least play discreetly together and see where they ended up. It might take a little convincing on her part, but he never turned away from something he wanted because it posed a challenge.