And only I can give it to him.
Who’s the one in charge here, again? I think to myself with a smile.
Still on my knees, I unfasten the buckle and tug. The belt slips from the loops of his pants and falls to the floor with a metallic clang. The zipper slides down easily. With a twist of Liam’s hips, his pants fall in a heap on the floor. He steps out of them and kicks them away. I quickly unlace his shoes and slip them off his feet.
His cock is already pressing against his silk boxers. I reach out and run my hand down his shaft, feeling the hardness of his erection beneath the silky fabric. He thrusts his hips forward, pressing himself more forcefully into my touch.
I slip a hand into his boxers and wrap my fingers, one by one, around his cock. His skin is blazing hot to the touch. I squeeze gently, and he moans in approval. I pull at the elastic band of his boxers, tugging it down low enough to free his erection from the fabric. I run my hands along it, feeling the ridges of veins along his shaft, the quick pulse of blood beneath his skin.
“Turn around,” he orders suddenly. “Cross your arms behind your back.”
With my skin pricking from excitement, I do as he says. I can hear the creak of the floorboards as he steps away. He returns a moment later and slings a soft rope around my wrists, winding it around twice before securing it into a firm knot. The rope digs a little into my skin, but not enough to hurt. He takes the free end of the rope and wraps it up my arms, higher and higher, until I am bound all the way up to my elbows. I couldn’t move my arms now if I tried.
“Now turn back around.”
Trying to be as graceful as I can, I twist around in place. Liam hooks a finger into the band of his boxers and yanks them downward in one fluid motion. They fall to the floor. He takes a step closer. His manhood is mere inches away from my nose; I can smell the musky, intoxicating scent of his skin.
“Close your eyes.”
I press them closed; the world plunges to blackness.
“Open your mouth.”
With an excited shudder, my mouth parts open. I wait for the pressure of his cock against my lips, for the warmth of his shaft moving across my tongue. But it doesn’t come. Not yet.
I open my eyes curiously. Liam is gazing down at me with a fierce, intense expression. Taking in the sight of his little submissive, with her hands bound, legs spread open, and mouth waiting. His shoulders rise and fall with each heavy breath of expectation. I can feel the radiant heat of his body. His power. His need.
His hand darts out and his fingers lace into my hair. He tugs at the roots, sending a sharp, tingling sensation across my scalp.
“I told you to keep your eyes closed.”
My eyelids slam shut obediently.
“Now, you’re going to ask me to please put my prick in your mouth. Beg for it. Tell me how much you want it.”
His words send an electric thrill through my body. He wants to humiliate me. He wants to demonstrate his total control over me.
My chin trembles. Could I refuse? And even if I could, would I? Because I do want it. I can already taste the salt of his sweat on my lips.
“Please, Sir,” I find myself whispering.
“What was that? Speak louder.”
“Please,” I say again, raising my voice. “I want to feel it fill my mouth. Let me suck your cock. Let me please you.” My face is red as I say the words.
I feel the tip of his prick press against my lower lip, pushing upwards, just barely entering my mouth. My tongue traces lightly over the curves of his tip.
Moving in closer, I press my tongue flat against the underside of his shaft and wrap my lips around him. He moans with pleasure and plunges in deeper, the veins of his cock brushing across my tongue.
I wish I could bring up my hand to his shaft, to curl my fingers around his hardness, to squeeze and release and slide up and down. But they’re restrained behind me, and my mouth must do all the work. I lean in, letting him fill me more deeply, feeling his tip hit the back of my throat. I shudder with pleasure.
My teeth accidentally scrape lightly against the top of cock, and I withdraw suddenly, expecting a yelp of pain or a scolding. But instead Liam brings his hand to the back of my head, and guides me back in.
“Fuck, Sophia,” he groans. “Keep doing that.”
I lean forward and press my tongue against the tip, swirling my tongue around it. I gently run my teeth up and down his shaft, and he moans in approval.
He moves his hips in closer, entering me more deeply. I press my lips more tightly around him, pressing my tongue hard against him, creating a vacuum with my mouth. I keep the pressure on, moving my head back and forth, back and forth, enjoying the sound of his ragged gasps of breath.
He groans and suddenly withdraws from my mouth.
“Turn around. Get on your stomach,” he orders.
My mouth still wet, my breath quick and light in my chest, I turn around and lower myself to the floor. My breasts and my stomach press into the cold wood. My arms shift against their restraints, angled out behind me.
His hands firmly grasp my thighs, spreading them out wide, giving him full access to my sex. He takes each of my legs, bending them at the knee. He steps away to retrieve more rope, and returns to bind my feet to my wrists. I remain stock still as he fastens the knots, trying not betray the fact that my heart is beating wildly.
Restrained like this, with my legs spread wide open, he can do anything he wants to me. A wave of arousal courses through me. The muscles between my legs clench and un-clench in anticipation. There’s a soft rip behind me—a condom wrapper being torn open.
I feel light-headed, eager for what comes next. But I dare not open my eyes.
I hear Liam bend down behind me. His hand trails up my inner thigh, higher and higher, moving in between my legs.
I let out a gasp as his fingers find my clit. As they brush tantalizingly against me, I can feel my back attempting to arch, struggling against the rope.
Another finger runs up and down my lips, teasing me, before slipping in. A second finger quickly follows, plunging in deep, exploring the walls of me.
I feel a sensation rolling through me; the pleasure begins to mount. My bare chest heaves against the hard floor.
“Look at you,” Liam says. “You’re already wet.”
I can hear the smile in his voice.
His fingers withdraw. He places a hand on the floor on either side of me, moving in close. His chest lowers on top of me, pressing down on my bindings, which in turn forces my legs open wider. I can feel the muscles strain in my thighs—a mildly painful sensation that only serves to heighten my pleasure. I know I’ll be sore after this.
The tip of Liam’s cock moves up and down my lips, pressing against the entrance to my sex. He moves it upward and grinds his hips into mine, rubbing his shaft against my clit.
A fresh wave of ecstasy rolls through me. I press my chin into the floor; the cold wood is soothing against my hot skin.
I know what he wants from me. I know why he’s not pounding my brains out already. Despite his erection. Despite the desire radiating off him.
Because he wants me to beg.
“Fuck me, Sir,” I say. No whispering this time—my voice is clear and loud and desperate for him.
He enters me with a groan, plunging in all the way, filling me entirely. His hip bones roll against me as he moves with increasing intensity, slamming against the walls of my sex, igniting every single one of my nerve endings.
There’s a ferocity to his movements; whatever it is that’s pent up inside of him, he’s unleashing it now.
Liam leans further forward to put more of his weight on top of me, making the sensations more intense. His hand comes out around me, finding my chin, wrapping his fingers around my neck.
For a wild moment, I think he’s going to hurt me. In the delirium of my ecstasy, I have the fleeting thought that he’s figured out my true identity. But his touch is firm and gentle, tilting my head upwards; if not
for him, my head would be banging against the floor from the sheer force of his thrusts.
His breathing is rough in my ear, growing rougher by the second. In this moment, I can feel exactly what he’s feeling. The electrifying heat, making our insides tremble and the hair prick on the back of our necks. The blood in our veins, hot and fast and pounding.
We smash our bodies against each other, driving in as deep as we possibly can. Skin wet against skin, there’s nothing that separates us.
When the ecstasy mounts, it’s all-consuming. The moan of pleasure is long and low in my throat, and my eyes flutter involuntarily. I feel Liam’s fingers dig into my skin as he comes. His orgasm is powerful; I can feel his body buckle against mine.
Only when we are finished, and when Liam has rolled onto the floor beside me, do I open my eyes.
He’s gasping for breath, laying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. Liam catches me looking at him, and he grins. He props himself up just long enough to untie my knots before collapsing back onto the floor.
I shake myself out of my bindings. The ropes tumble down in loose coils onto the floor between us.
“That was…” I say, trying to search for the right word. I’m still breathless. “Intense.”
“You were amazing,” he says with a satisfied twitch of his mouth. He tilts his chin into the air and closes his eyes. “God, I’m so relaxed. I think I could pass out right here on the floor.”
My eyes study the lazy smile wafting across his face, and it occurs to me—if there’s going to be a moment of truth from Liam, it’s now. When his clothes are off and his guard is down.
The thought sends a little twinge of guilt into my chest, which I try to ignore. If there was another way to find my answers, I’d be all over it. But for the time being, this is all I have. Liam is my only solid lead.
And besides, I remind myself, glancing back to the unexplained bruise on his arm, it’s not like he’s so innocent himself.
“I’m glad I could help you unwind,” I say coyly. “Rough day, huh?”
“You could say that,” he says with a sarcastic laugh. He drapes his arm across his forehead. He continues, “Just another long, long day at the office.”
“But it’s Saturday.”
“Saturday is a luxury for people whose last names aren’t ‘Hawthorne,’” he retorts. “And that goes for Sunday, too.”
“What can possibly be so important that it can’t wait until after the weekend?” I prompt, attempting to ignore the nervous twisting in my stomach.
“There’s always something,” Liam says resignedly. “Always some kind of transaction that has to be seen through. When there’s this much at stake, a few hours can change everything. Forget about waiting for Monday.”
I scrutinize him, burning with curiosity. What could he be talking about? What kind of transactions could be so crucially time-sensitive? I don’t know much about trading stocks, but I’m fairly sure the stock market is closed on the weekends. I bite my lip, brainstorming other possibilities.
An idea comes to me suddenly, harsh and frightening, like an ice-cold hand wrapping around my gut. If this is true, and my parents were involved somehow, the knowledge might be more than I can handle.
“Geez, you make it sound like you’re in the drug trade,” I say, trying with all my might to sound like I’m joking.
But to my surprise, Liam laughs.
“Yeah, right. I think that would actually be less stressful,” he says.
The cold hand immediately unclenches, and I let out a low exhale of relief.
Liam turns his head toward me. “Have you ever wished there was two of you? So that you could send off the other ‘you’ to deal with all the responsibilities and the pressure and the bullshit—freeing you up to actually get a chance to live your life?”
My mouth drops open. Of all the people on the planet, Liam Hawthorne is the last one I’d expect to vocalize my own frustrations. How many weeks did I spend, scheming with Miranda about confidence schemes and fake names, secretly wishing that some kind of karmic force would roll through and finish the job for me? How many mornings have I woken up and wished that this life belonged to someone else?
But as I gaze at Liam, it dawns on me—it makes perfect sense. We’re just two people going through the motions of obligation, weighted down by familial burdens.
“You have no idea,” I whisper.
Liam props himself up on his elbows. “So here’s a thought,” he says playfully. “I’ll hire some over-achieving physics student to come up with a way that we can clone ourselves. Then you and I can head out of town. We’ll go to Costa Rica. Or Russia. Whatever. I don’t know if you’re a hot weather or cold weather girl.”
“Hot weather, definitely,” I reply, feeling my lips twitch into a smile. “And it’s a deal.”
“How much do you think that would run me? The physics student, I mean, not the vacation,” he says half-jokingly. “A million? Ten million? More?”
“You’ll probably have to drain your bank account.”
As soon as I say the words, it’s like a switch flips in my brain. The second account. Mr. Robinson. All of the mysteries about the Hawthornes, all of my questions—which had vanished into mist the instant Liam put his hands on me—come flooding back.
“Ah, still worth it,” he says. “After all, you can’t put a price on freedom.”
“Well, sure,” I say shakily, trying to keep up with the banter. But suddenly it’s become hard to concentrate. What about the second account? What about Mr. Robinson? “But then where would you get the money to go on all those vacations to Russia?”
“Forget Russia. We’ll backpack across Europe. We’ll stay in hostels.”
“What about food? Clothes?” The second account? Mr. Robinson?
“We won’t need clothes.”
Liam reaches out and takes me by the arm, pulling me roughly on top of him. His mouth finds mine; his teeth nibble softly at my lower lip. I can feel his cock stiffening against my thigh.
Again, already? I think. This man has stamina.
His hand scoops beneath my bare breast and gives it a gentle squeeze. His lips press in harder, kissing me more deeply—at least, he tries to.
But my lips are listless, and my thoughts are elsewhere. I’ve lost the magic of the moment. All I can think about are those four words, repeating over and over in my head.
Liam senses my reluctance. He pulls away. “What is it?”
I look into his eyes, which are pale blue like ice. I need to know the truth.
“Can I ask you a question? I heard someone mention something yesterday,” I lie, “and it didn’t make sense to me.”
“All right,” he says warily.
“What’s the second account?” I ask him.
Suddenly, it’s like I’ve said the forbidden words. Liam’s blue eyes turn dark and stormy. His eyebrows furrow, and his hand wraps around my arm tightly.
“How did you hear about that?” he demands. “Who have you been talking to?”
“No one,” I say hastily, frightened by the sudden anger etched onto his face. “No one did. I was in the French Quarter, and some people were walking by, and I heard them say your name and then something about a second account. That’s all.”
Liam studies me for a moment with a hard expression. And then, suddenly, he stands up. He strides across the room and quickly pulls on his pants.
“You wait here,” he says, zipping up. “I need to make a call.”
My heart pounding, I watch him retreat quickly across the room. The door snaps closed behind him.
I don’t waste a second. Feeling a little like déjà vu, I quickly yank on my dress and then slip through the door in Liam’s wake. Daring not to make a sound, I walk quickly down the long hallway. I finally come to a stop in front of the door where, only yesterday, I had eavesdropped on Liam and heard about ‘Mr. Robinson’ for the first time.
“Yes, I know what time it is,” says Liam’s clearly i
rritated voice from the other side of the door. “You need to look into this immediately.”
A pause.
“No, I don’t know who,” says Liam. “That’s your job—you figure it out.”
Another pause.
“Yeah, we’re going to have to tell them. They’re not going to be happy. No, no, I’ll do it. Better that it come from me.”
He says something else in a low voice, but the sound is too muffled through the door for me to understood. As I inch closer to press my ear against the door, the floorboards creak beneath me.
Liam’s voice drops. I wait for him to say something else, hoping that he’s just pausing for the other person on the phone line. But there’s nothing.
I notice a flicker of movement below the door. With a sudden feeling of dread, I realize what it is—a shadow. This can only mean one thing: he’s standing right on the other side of the door, mere inches away. He knows I’m here.
My limbs seize up, frozen by fear. Shit.
Oh, shit.
5
The door swings open suddenly, and I find myself standing nearly nose-to-nose with Liam. He is enraged, visibly bristling. A thick band of muscle jumps in his neck as he leans over me.
Has he always been this tall? I wonder to myself.
“Were you eavesdropping?” he says angrily.
I shrink back from him. I shake my head vigorously in denial.
“Then explain to me,” he says hotly, “why you were outside my bedroom, even though I gave you explicit orders to wait for me down the hall.”
Good question, I think. My mind races for a plausible explanation. Why would I come out here? Why would I resist his orders, at the risk of getting punished?
And then it hits me.
Pun intended, I guess.
Summoning every single ounce of acting ability I possess, I look up and bat my eyelashes at him. A coy smile spreads across my face. I bring my arms up over my head, crossing them at the wrists. I twist my hips as if I can hardly contain my arousal.
“Are you going to punish me?” I ask flirtatiously.
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