Bound

by Piper Malone

  “Good regroup, doll. And no, we haven’t done this already.” Blake reaches in the front breast pocket of his blazer and extracts a length of red silk. “Tonight will be different.”

  My limbs seize, chest and throat clenching. Visions of my aunt flash through my mind. A shooting pain pinches my stomach, forcing my hips to jerk and wobble on deadened legs.

  “Stop.” Blake’s command cuts through the noise of my heart pounding in my ears, snapping me back into the warm serenity of my room. “Tell me.”

  “I remembered her. The memory popped into my head and I got scared.”

  “Is there anything here to hurt you? Would I hurt you?”

  “No, Blake.”

  “Perfect, doll.” Another loving kiss is pressed to my forehead, the tingling sensation of care and affection washing away the ugly flashes of memories I’d rather forget. “Please know that if you have any of those thoughts or feelings again, you need to tell me right away.”

  “I won’t have them.” The words, meant to be firm, sound weak, cautiously hopeful.

  “It’s okay if you do, Kat. This is a process, not a race.” He gathers my hands in one of his, placing the length of silk in my palm. “Feel this.”

  The fabric slides across my skin like thick liquid, smooth and slick. Even in the glow of candlelight, the bright red silk is a shocking contrast to the color of my pale skin. Blake’s hands add to the sensation, his rough palms rubbing the length of my arms, cupping my elbows, then fingertips trailing the length of my forearms. It’s confusing. The calloused grit of his hands combined with the decadent caress of silk creates a deep warmth that stems from the simplest touch.

  “Kat, I will allow you to make a choice in our next step. The rest of the choices this evening are mine. Do you agree to this arrangement?”

  The answer pushes forward without much thought. “Yes.”

  “Perfect,” he praises, as another kiss settles on my cheek. “Katya, I would like to see your gorgeous body. Would you like to undress yourself or allow me to take you out of your clothes?”

  The words rush to the forefront of my mind – I can do it – but stop in their tracks. Blake’s hands skim my arms again, gentle and powerful, allowing me to settle in the warm rhythmic pace of his skin against mine. The attempt to assert myself is lost. “You,” I whisper.

  The gratified rumble from his chest and his mouth pressing a kiss to the opposite cheek is all the praise I need. Knowing I pleased him blooms a determined and happy sensation low in my belly.

  “Keep feeling this,” he whispers into my ear, “the sash in your hands and my touch on your skin.” The sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine.

  With the same calculated steps used to arrange the room, Blake begins the process of undressing me. Shoes are discarded with a gentle pull. His powerful hands tug the fabric of my blouse out from the waistband of my skirt, allowing the hem to flow around my hips. The knee-length pencil skirt is unbuttoned and pools at my feet. The flickering candles tricked my mind into thinking the room was warm. The removal of the wool fabric forces a rush of cool air against my sensitive skin.

  Blake’s eyes linger at the garter and stockings hidden by the dense cloth of my skirt. It’s fall in Boston. I’m not freezing my ass off. I’m also not wearing undergarments that are issued at the convent. The electric-blue lace trimmed with shimmering silver embroidery captures his attention nicely.

  He leans closer to me and inhales deeply. “Did you wear this for me?”

  The sound of his voice, gritty from his own arousal, is all I need. “Yes.” My happiness bleeds through the word.

  “Thank you,” he grinds out before placing a chaste kiss on my jawline.

  The feel of his lips on me makes me hungry for him, for his mouth on mine. “Why aren’t you kissing me, Blake?”

  “I am kissing you, doll.”

  “Why aren’t you kissing me? You’ve kissed every inch of my face but not my lips.”

  “In time,” he issues with a seductive smirk. “Now give me your hand.”

  He wastes no time extracting each arm from my blouse, then carefully pulls the top over my head. In the flash and flicker of candlelight, I’m in my bare essentials, pulling a red sash through my grip watching my boyfriend devour me with his eyes.

  With a satisfied smile, Blake surveys me, the room, and calculates his next steps.

  “Give me the sash.”

  My grip stalls, squeezing the length of silk in my fists. “Why?”

  “Because I asked you to, Kat. Your time with it is done. Now, it’s my turn.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to make you feel, doll. No pain, I promise. Just like we discussed.”

  I’ve given Blake my body. I’ve cried in front of him. He’s met my family. He’s a good man. I want him.

  Extending my arms, I offer him the sash draped over the width of my palms.

  “So sexy,” he praises, and presses his lips against my opposite jawline.

  The affection is wonderful, sensual, but I really want his mouth.

  “I can tell you are needy, Kat. You are shifting, trying to soothe the ache. Your body, all of you, is truly beautiful.” He pauses, waiting for a rebuff, but I can’t offer one up. He’s right. My body is humming, skin tingling with excitement, pussy aching for Blake’s powerful body, heart pounding with anticipation. All from a few minutes of allowing him to undress me?

  “Are you ready for the next step?” he asks, the red silk gathered in his fist.

  I shift, the deep pulsation of desire and want beating against every inch of my skin. “Yes, Blake.”

  He inhales, eyes closing in deep satisfaction. “Perfect,” he says, before holding up the length of silk. “This is an instrument of pleasure. I’m bringing this into our play to help you feel and develop your trust. If at any point in time you are scared, if I am moving too fast, or you want me to stop, you need to tell me. Do you understand?”

  The instructions are clear; I get scared, I need to tell him to stop. But his direction kicks up my suspicion. I’ve read the reasons for the safewords, logically I know why they are there. I didn’t think we’d use them right away. However, he’s making sure I understand that I can end this at any time. I have to trust him.

  “Kat?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Inhale and exhale for me,” he commands. When I respond, he asks me to do it again. After three repetitions, he steps closer to me. “Remember, this is you and me. There is no pain. Only pleasure.”

  I nod only slightly before Blake lifts the blindfold to my eyes and plunges me into darkness.

  The war begins in typical fashion. The North, my brain, screams that this is unacceptable, paralyzing. The South, my heart and, let’s face it, my pussy, want to see this through. It feels uncomfortable and exciting. But is it wrong?

  I’ve always thought my way out of everything. The North has always protected the South. The capable mind protects the regions that have been injured with fierce determination. Today the South is winning. My heart has been pushing away the barriers that have kept it safe for years. I feel things I haven’t before: comfort, acceptance, love. Because of Blake.

  “How do you feel, doll?” Blake asks from outside the darkness.

  “Like you’ll take care of me if I allow you to.”

  I hear his movement and feel the quick brush of his tongue against my lips before his mouth presses to mine with barely-restrained passion. His arms cage me, holding me close as the kiss transforms my role from pensive participant to actively engaged. What I can’t see, I can feel and hear. The texture of his shirt against my skin, smooth and refined. The jagged edge to his breath as he ends the kiss. Blake’s calloused fingers trace the line of my throat, the gritty roughness of his touch moving with smooth precision.

  “I can see you’re paying attention to your other senses already.” I can hear his mirth. “Are you trying to figure out the next move?”

&
nbsp; “No,” I answer honestly, “I’m just trying to do what you asked. I’m trying to feel.”

  “You look so fucking beautiful, Kat.” He grunts with satisfaction as he circles me. His knuckles skimming the fleshy part of my rear end make me jump. I didn’t know he was moving. “I’m at arm’s length, Kat. Always.”

  It’s not fear or worry gripping me. It’s anticipation. If he’s walking around me, but I can’t hear him, how will I know where he is going to touch? What is he going to touch? When?

  Just feel… I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.

  “Are you ready for more, Kat? Do you feel comfortable enough to keep going?”

  “Yes, Blake.” I turn my head toward his voice, now on the opposite side of me.

  “That’s my doll.” The satisfaction in his voice rolls through me. I can tell he’s smiling. Knowing that I’ve made him happy sparks my own smile, pleased with myself for not fucking this up.

  “Why the smile?”

  I shrug, letting go of the fear that the words might be wrong. I can’t see his reaction anyway. “It sounds like you’re happy with me. I like that.”

  His footsteps move close, his scent overwhelming the minimal space between us. “Why wouldn’t I sound happy with you? I am happy. I love our time together, what we do, where we go.” Blake’s fingers circle my wrist, lifting my hand away from my body. His hands cup mine, pressing my palm into the very hard, thick erection bulging from behind his sleek, pressed pants. “Does this give you an idea of how happy I am?” My finger curls around him, giving his stiff junk a little love squeeze. “I’ve had this hard-on since the appetizers. Do you know how difficult it is to sit in a nice restaurant and not ask your girlfriend to meet you in the men’s room?”

  It might sound strange, but I love that he had a trouser tent all night because of me. “I wouldn’t know,” I hum, “my girlfriends always met me in the bathroom.”

  “Of course they did. I’m a fool for not asking for such a rendezvous.”

  In the darkness of my blindfold, I feel him pull back. The fear that I’m alone consumes me. “Blake?” His name comes out worried, needy. I love the banter, the play, and it was gone in an instant.

  His hands cup my shoulders, lips pressed to the back of my neck. “Always arm’s length away, Kat.”

  His fingers press and knead the muscles of my shoulders, back, and rear end. Blake trails kisses down the length of my spine and each butt cheek before warming the length of my legs with his hands. The touch is overwhelming. His lips pressed to the back of my knees, the curve of my hip and thigh is oddly soothing. In the darkness, I visualize swirling orbs of warmth penetrating the icy places of my body. My muscles soften, absorbing the deep heat that I’ve tried so hard not to feel or enjoy. I envision Blake moving around me with careful steps and gentle touches. I feel him hover close and move away. He’s done nothing but pamper me. Given attention to the tense places in my body. I feel loose, flexible… I want to rip his clothing off.

  “How do you feel, doll?”

  “Good.” For the first time in my life, I’m comfortable with being in the dark.

  I hear the buckle of his belt clink. The sound of him taking off his pants and casting them aside. The groan that comes from adjusting himself. A second later, I hear the slide of his hands unfastening the buttons of his shirt. Then it’s the rustling sound of cotton being balled up, and landing on the floor in the same general area as his pants. He’s naked!

  But how naked?

  I smell his musk. I feel the ache between my thighs and the pulsing need to touch him. We’ve been in my bedroom for what feels like hours and his actions have yet to be anything but passionate. The man who would dive headfirst into my bra or bury his nose in my pussy has pressed his lips to every inch of my body with the exception of the textbook erogenous zones. But I’m on fire. I want him, need him.

  “I see you thinking, Kat.” Blake’s calm voice breaks the silence. “Tell me.”

  “You didn’t touch me here.” I hover my hands over my boobs and the sacred valley.

  “I know.” I can hear his grin. “Do you know how difficult it was to not touch you here?” I can only imagine he’s hovering over the same places I was. “But now I’m going to.”

  Without any warning, I’m off my feet, scooped up into the arms of my naked boyfriend, and gently laid on the throne of pillows. His body presses into mine. The heat and pressure of his skin ramping up the already wild force rattling my sanity.

  “Kat,” Blake’s voice is strained as I feel a single finger lift the thin lace strap off my shoulder, “was this expensive?”

  The pace of this foreplay is killing me. I need him, now. “Destroy it.”

  In seconds, the wisps of fabric are gone with the exception of the garter. His hands glide along the length of my body. “My doll,” he growls, before pressing his eager mouth to mine. When he pulls back from the kiss, I hear him, breathless and barely contained. I reach up, fumbling to feel his chest expanding and contracting, damp from the exertion of our play.

  Blake holds my hand against his sternum, his wild heartbeat vibrating through the bone. Everything is still with the exception of his heart pounding a rhythm that shakes me to the core.

  “That is because of you, Katya,” he whispers. “Can you feel it?”

  “Yes…” His words take me off guard. The tone of his voice wouldn’t have the sound of purpose if they weren’t true. Blake’s honesty, his openness, makes tears seep into the corners of my eyes. The emotion is overwhelming. His heart is beating for me.

  Mine begs for him.

  Blake shifts, his wide hand skimming across my stomach and settling between my breasts. “Is this for me, Kat?”

  My mouth falls open, heavy breath lifting the weight of his palm. The warmth of his hand bleeding a feverish heat into my chest, cracking open the vault.

  “Everything,” I gasp. “It’s yours.”

  “Thank you, doll,” he says with clear affection, before his hand travels farther up, caging my jaw with his gentle grip. His mouth, powerful and urgent against mine, his body shifting and laying over me. The weight of his frame settles instantly between my legs, his hips probing for connection.

  Within moments, Blake slides in to the hilt. Our cries and guttural moans tangle with the twisting of limbs. Our fingers tangle together. My legs lock around his waist. He pounds into me. I feel the power of this moment. His touch, his care, gives me a feeling unlike any other.

  “Kat,” he pants, the rhythm of his hip punctuating his words, “tell me you’re mine.”

  He wants me. All of me.

  “I’m yours—” His command and my confession break me, shattering into a thousand pieces around his body. In the darkness of the blindfold, I succumb to the vibrant love of Blake Roman.

  “Fuck yes!” he bellows, his cock thickening before shouting his release and collapsing on me. His weight, while heavy, is a comfort. He’s close and he’s mine.

  At once, the room falls silent in the wake of our sex. When his breath calms, he plants a quick peck on my cheek before sitting back on his heels. My arms fall haphazardly to my sides like noodles. I’m relaxed, definitely tired, but curious. “What are you doing?”

  I shift and try to pull my legs up to allow him to move but he’s still inside me. “I’m enjoying the view,” he says with a smug satisfaction.

  Of course he is.

  With a grunt that sounds like he’s forced to make a decision, Blake withdrawals from my body and leaves the bed. Turning my head in the direction of his departure, I wait and listen for where he might be going next.

  To my delight, he sits next to me on the bed and the blindfold is removed. Even though I’m squinting from the introduction of light, I can see he’s smiling. His eyes shimmer with a brightness I haven’t seen before. Is this what kink does to him?

  “You were beyond my expectation, Kat,” he says with pride. He picks up my limp hands, kissing the back of each before lacing our f
ingers. “Which should not surprise me. You always shock me in some way.”

  He’s so happy, excited even. The worry that I’m not going to be able to move past this creeps in. What if I can’t ever be more than blindfolded? It was easy, but I had freedom. Would I actually leave if I had the chance?

  “Tell me why you have raccoon eyes?” His voice is calm while gentle fingers trace the bone surrounding my eyes.

  The tears. Shit! I huff a breath, knowing I can’t lie. “It was powerful, Blake. I’m not used to feeling things like that.” It feels awkward to look at him during my confession. I want him to know but it’s uncomfortable to risk sharing the feeling.

  His lips press together with a tight smile, a knowing glint in his eye. “I felt it, too. That’s how good we can be, Kat.”

  Blake shifts and lays beside me on the bed. Though he still has a hand on me, it isn’t enough. I turn, draping my arm over his chest, my leg snaking over his.

  He wraps an arm around me, making a space for me to cuddle close. It feels good, right. It’s nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

  And, for now, it’s perfect. I feel calm, focused…loved. Nothing that I have felt with past lovers has ever compared.

  I wonder if he has felt this way before with other girlfriends or subs. When I open my mouth to ask him, I hear Blake’s deeply paced breath. He’s asleep.

  I’m his girlfriend, but am I his submissive? Can the titles be interchangeable? Reagan is Caleb’s wife and sub. But what if I can’t fulfill both roles?

  The thought of Blake’s disappointment in my limited abilities bubbles a guilty feeling in the depth of my mind, staining the edges of the happy, secure feeling I had a few moments ago. He made me feel so safe, like I could do this, but now I’m questioning everything again.

  No. Don’t do this. Don’t sabotage.

  I take a few deep breaths before closing my eyes and resolving to be the woman Blake wants and needs.

  Chapter 26

  Kat

  “You actually let him blindfold you?”