Beth Kery

by Sweet Restraint

  “No. But it’s a damn good start.”

  When she felt his weight come off the bed she opened her eyes warily, on edge as to what he would do next. Her breath stuck in her throat when he stood, ripped open the button fly of his jeans, and hooked his thumbs in the elastic waistband of a pair of boxer briefs that looked starkly white against his dusky skin. He bent, preventing her from seeing more than a glimpse of the long, stiff penis that hung down his right thigh.

  But then he stood before her naked. He didn’t move, as though he knew perfectly well the effect he had on her.

  Laura stared for a full moment, her eyes running over every inch of his hard body. When she shut her eyes they burned. His image remained on the back of her eyelids, however—the ridged muscles of his abdomen, the strip of black hair that made a swirling design around his taut belly button, the long, full cock just as dusky as his smooth skin but with an additional reddish hue. The head was erotically smooth and thick, its density weighing down the stalk.

  She could perfectly imagine the delicious weight of it in her hand, the way that cock stretched and filled her, how it reached a place inside of her where no other man had begun to touch. She didn’t really require his command to open her eyes because she’d already lifted her eyelids, hungry for more of the vision of him.

  She watched, hypnotized by the image of him stroking his erection slowly. He pinned her with his stare, his eyes brilliantly alive in his otherwise impassive face when he came down on the bed next to her.

  “I’d forgotten how beautiful your breasts are,” he murmured, his lips just inches away from her left nipple. Laura moaned helplessly when he used the same hand that had been stroking his cock to massage a breast. She imagined that she felt the heat of his desire transferring to her own flesh. “Do you remember how crazy I used to be about them?”

  Laura didn’t know how to respond to the small, amused smile on his lips as he watched himself shaping her breast to his palm.

  “Do you remember how I couldn’t keep my hands off them . . . how shocked you were when I first told you I wanted to fuck them?” he asked, his voice gruff and intimate in the silent room. His lancing blue eyes suddenly leapt to her face. “It wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

  “I-I—”

  “Just be honest. Is it really that hard?”

  “Yes,” she replied on an exhale. “I remember.”

  He nodded slowly, holding her gaze. His hand lowered to skim across the sensitive sides of her torso and waist.

  “You have the softest skin I’ve ever touched.”

  Laura made a strange, choking sound in her throat. He glanced up at her, his eyes pinning her in a fiery hold before he dipped his head suddenly. He lashed at a nipple with a warm, slightly rough tongue. Laura cried out, shocked by his abrupt movement and the stunning impact of his caress. Before the cry had fully left her throat he began to suckle her. No buildup, no warning, no preamble—just a firm, hot, hungry suck.

  Laura writhed beneath him, pulling on her restraints. It didn’t hurt precisely—or it did a little. She couldn’t be sure, because the primary sensation that struck her was need . . . the need for pressure, the need for friction on her pussy, her clit, the need to press his naked skin against her own.

  Her hips shifted restlessly on the bed but she couldn’t throw him off her breast. Not that she wanted to. God, it felt divine, but it was also nearly unbearable to have him hold her at his mercy this way.

  She trembled beneath him when he made a low growling sound of male satisfaction deep in his throat and leaned up. Her nipple—reddened, glistening, and pointed—snapped out of his pursed lips with a popping noise.

  “Shane . . .” she whispered, desperate to get his attention. But he ignored her and plumped the breast he held in his hand for his descending mouth. He gave her other nipple the same deft, slippery, slightly rough treatment that he had the first. Laura lifted her hips and pulled tight against her restraints, but no matter what she did she couldn’t get the friction she needed on her increasingly hungry pussy.

  She groaned in frustration. He lifted his dark head at the sound.

  “Stop twisting around or I’ll punish you. I’m doing this for my pleasure, not yours.”

  She stared at him, aghast.

  “Why did you say all that crap about making me wild with desire then, if this is all for you?” she seethed.

  He smiled as though her comment had genuinely pleased him before he leaned toward the bedside table. Laura’s eyes went wide when she saw him extract a condom from the drawer. As she watched him slide the rubber over his enormous, swollen erection she promptly forgot what she’d just asked him.

  Shane would give her the relief she needed. His beautiful cock rubbed her so deeply, agitated and enlivened secret flesh. He’d never failed to bring her the most electrifying orgasms imaginable . . .

  “I’m going to fuck you now, but it’s going to be for me. You’re not allowed to come. Do you understand, Laura?”

  Laura’s reply stilled on her tongue when he gently swatted her right hip, his hand remaining on her flesh, his long fingers sinking deeply . . . greedily into her buttock, massaging her. “Hold very still,” he commanded as he arrowed his cock into her spread pussy. She whimpered as the steely head slowly entered her, parting her flesh, demanding that her supple, slippery tissues give way to his burrowing cock.

  He paused, the first several inches of his cock fully secured in her slit. Laura cried out sharply when he powered his full length into her with one stroke. Her eyes sprang wide. He braced himself over her on the metal headboard, still buried in her to the hilt, his testicles pressing to the sensitive skin at the entrance of her pussy.

  “Tight,” he whispered as he looked down at her. “You’ve got the sweetest little pussy.” He grimaced in pleasure when he moved, drawing out of her several inches and sliding back in. He watched her reaction carefully as he stroked her deep.

  “There,” he said as he fucked her slowly.

  Laura’s eyes flickered back into her eye sockets. He knew what he was doing to her, the bastard. The thick ridge beneath the head of his cock stroked somewhere sublime. Did he have the same effect on all women or had he been formed perfectly to fill her flesh?

  She moaned his name as he built the tension masterfully and she lay beneath him, bound and helpless with desire. She wondered if he’d read her mind when he spoke gruffly.

  “Your pussy loves my cock, doesn’t it?” he asked intently as he watched her and thrust with slow deliberation. “It shapes itself so tightly around it, squeezes me . . . taunts me.”

  Laura panted, her hips flexing desperately to get pressure on her clit. But he withheld himself from her, merely brushing against the sensitive opening of her pussy on his downstrokes, refusing to press on her clit. Still, the burn grew deliciously inside of her, making her want, making her crave—

  “You’re the one who’s teasing me, Shane, and you know it.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he murmured.

  Laura gasped in mixed protest and arousal when he held himself off her even more, the muscles of his arms and chest bulging. He began fucking her in short, shallow thrusts using merely the first half of his cock.

  “No.” She couldn’t stop herself from moaning in protest.

  But he just continued to fuck her shallowly. An orgasm grew in her, ached in her, but he refused to give her the fuel she required to ignite.

  He came up on the balls of his feet, his arms still braced on the metal branches of the headboard holding himself off her, six feet and several inches of grim determination and hard, flexing muscle. His facial features grew rigid with restraint. Despite the fact that she was furious at him for depriving her, she had to admit that what he was doing could hardly be called fucking solely for his pleasure.

  What he was doing, more specifically, was trying to get her to beg. And she was so close to doing just that . . .

  Laura bit her lip hard and groaned. The bed began to bea
t against the wall from Shane’s short yet forceful thrusts. The only way he touched her body was by pumping the first half of his cock into her pussy again and again, faster and faster.

  He closed his eyes and grunted with pleasure. A mist of sweat shone on his dusky skin. His small, dark brown nipples drew tight. But still he refused to offer her the extra pressure she required on her clit. Still he withheld the magical, rubbing knob of his cock from her deepest depths.

  “Shane . . .” she moaned, the ache of need becoming a festering pain.

  “What, baby?” he rasped.

  She cried out in sheer frustration. The thick circumference of his pistoning cock created a low-level, yet insistent burn on her clit, which made her continually crave more pressure. She pulsed against him with the tiny centimeters of motion that her restraints allowed her. The burn amplified. She clenched her eyes shut and graphically imagined what it would be like to have Shane fuck her at full throttle while she was tied up spread-eagle on this bed, completely at his mercy.

  Yes . . . yes . . . yes. He may be taunting her, but she would come anyway. She reached for orgasm, strained for it . . .

  Her eyes flashed open at the sudden cruel deprivation of his cock. She saw him take his rigid erection in his palm and impatiently shuck off the condom. He knelt over her and pumped the glistening rod in his hand.

  His cock swelled impossibly large, the veins popped from the surface, feeding his arousal. The head glistened wetly from the steady stream of pre-come leaking from the slit. She watched, transfixed, as his face clenched tight. He groaned gutturally at the same moment that his seed shot onto her belly, thick and abundant.

  The scent of his semen reached her flared nostrils. Her womb constricted in an agony of desire.

  She twisted her chin away from him as he grunted and moaned, his come continuing to spurt warmly on her belly. But she couldn’t stop herself from seeing him in her mind’s eye in all his primitive glory as he knelt over her—his fist eventually slowing on the shaft of his penis, the tension that had drawn his muscles tight as a cocked bowstring loosening . . . diminishing.

  She refused to open her eyes a minute later when she felt him wipe the cooling come off her abdomen. Her breath stuck in her throat when she felt him gently place the pendant on the inner curve of her left breast, his fingers lingering on her skin for a brief, electric few seconds.

  He covered her naked body with the sheet and blanket, securing it tightly around her to protect her from the cool air. She heard him shut off the bedside lamp, felt him lying down next to her. He didn’t speak or try to touch her again.

  “Why do you want me to hate you, Shane?”

  The silence clung heavily.

  He shifted in the bed, settling down to sleep. When he spoke, he sounded as though he faced in the opposite direction from her.

  “You don’t hate me. But even if you did, hatred is a powerful emotion. It’s as good a place for us to begin again as any. At least it means I’m getting through to you, baby.”

  Laura lay awake staring at the dancing shadows cast by the fire long after Shane’s breathing became deep and even.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Shane, wake up,” Laura said early the next morning. He rustled in his sleep.

  “Shane,” she barked.

  One blue eye popped open and met her gaze. He lay on his stomach, his left cheek pressed into the pillow. She saw the moment when recognition sparked into his awareness. He sat up. His short dark hair spilled forward onto his forehead and stuck out like a rooster tail on the crown. The trim on the pillowcase had made an indentation on his whiskered chin.

  Laura steeled herself against the sight of his rumpled sexuality with determination.

  “I thought you said you would wake up immediately if I was uncomfortable. My bladder is about to burst. I’ve been calling to you now for five minutes,” she lied peevishly.

  He threw her an annoyed look before he turned over and stood. The sheet slipped off his hips, revealing a pair of muscular buns covered by smooth, dusky skin. Laura stared up at the ceiling determinedly, her breath coming quicker.

  “You have not been calling to me for five minutes,” he rumbled tiredly as he slid the jeans he’d worn yesterday over his thighs and tight ass, forgoing underwear.

  She glared at him as he unfastened her ankles. “How would you know? You were unconscious.”

  He refused to be goaded into an altercation, however. He unfastened her arms, although Laura noticed that unlike the ankle cuffs, he left the leather cuffs around her wrists and merely unhooked them from the thick, woven cloth band. Laura threw him a look of deep loathing as she stood and passed, refusing to rush when she felt his stare on the back of her naked body.

  She gnashed her teeth together in frustration when she turned on the shower several minutes later and Shane pounded on the door. She hastily wrapped a luxurious towel around her and opened it.

  “What?” she asked acerbically.

  “Don’t shower yet. I’m going running, so you’re going to have to go with me.”

  Her gaze lowered down over him. He had indeed changed into gray sweats, a long-sleeved dark blue undershirt, and a white Georgetown T-shirt that was ripped and frayed around the hem. Laura would have bet much-needed money at that moment that he’d bought the ancient shirt back when he was a graduate student studying criminology and psychology at the prestigious university.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she countered calmly. With morning had come cold, harsh reality. She’d been kidnapped by a man who planned to use his history and his sexual hold on her to force her into giving him information that he needed for his investigation. The new day had thankfully granted her a little distance from the overwhelming, unquenched desire that had haunted her dreams.

  At the moment, Laura experienced very little for Shane Dominic except a white-hot fury.

  “You’re going to come with me, all right,” Shane replied pleasantly.

  “Are you nuts?” Laura shouted. “I can’t go jogging around in the snow in a skirt and high-heeled boots!”

  His crooked, boyish smile took her off guard. She’d forgotten how effortlessly charming he could be. “I brought something for you to go running in.”

  Laura stared, slack-jawed as he held up a large shopping bag. “A couple pair of sweats, a jacket, socks, and tennis shoes. I guessed on your size, but if they’re a little big for you it shouldn’t matter. This cabin is isolated, not a soul for miles. I’m the only one who’s going to see you.”

  “I am not going jogging,” Laura repeated. He peered into the plastic bag and continued as though she’d never spoken.

  “Since the fit of running shoes is so important, I bought you three different sizes—a seven, seven and a half, and an eight. I remembered that you wore a seven and a half, but I figured if you had a half-size wiggle room in either direction—”

  “Shane, you’re not listening,” Laura grated out, trying her best to ignore her escalated heartbeat. He actually remembered her shoe size?

  “You’re going running with me. Do you know how I know that?”

  “Because you’re delusional?” Laura asked nastily.

  “No. Because I’m going running. I run every day. And since you’re going to be tied to me . . . you’re going to have to run to keep up. I’m giving you two minutes or I’m going to come in and help you get dressed.” He dropped the shopping bag on the bathroom floor and pulled the door closed in front of her shocked face.

  Ten minutes later they stepped out onto the front porch and Shane pulled the door closed behind them. It had warmed up during the night to the low thirties, causing a light mist of evaporation to cling in the valleys of the surrounding hills. She’d never been to this portion of northern Illinois and was surprised by the gently rolling landscape.

  Laura followed Shane before he had a chance to pull on the chain that he’d attached to the cuff around her wrist. He’d attached the other end of the light, but sturdy-looking chain to a loos
e woven band that he’d looped around his own wrist.

  “Your body looks like you’re in shape. Are you?” Shane asked matter-of-factly as they passed his car in the driveway and headed for the rural route—the only place they could run that had been completely cleared of snow.

  Laura flushed. Even though he hadn’t sounded remotely suggestive when he’d said it, she couldn’t help but think of him inspecting her as she lay naked and tied to the bed.

  “I swim and take yoga and aerobics classes several times a week,” she muttered.

  “Sounds pretty lightweight. Do you think you’re up to jogging six or seven miles?”

  “I can go whatever distance you do,” she countered swiftly.

  She saw the amused gleam in his blue eyes and knew that he’d goaded her right into a trap of compliance. Laura simmered over that fact for the first fifteen minutes of their jog. Soon she found herself relaxing into the brisk pace that Shane set, however. The cool, windless air soothed her heated body. The tension she’d been carrying in her muscles for weeks now, only to have it strung tighter last night by intense, unfulfilled desire, slowly eased out of her.

  Shane glanced over at her. “You’re not breathing very heavily. I think we can pick up the pace.”

  “No, I’m comfortable.” She resisted—for the principle if nothing else.

  He responded by subtly increasing his speed. Laura fumed as she watched the three-foot chain that had hung limply between them as they ran side by side start to lengthen and grow taut.

  “I’m not a dog,” she shouted. She sped up until she was in front of him and glared back at him. “If I lay down on this pavement you’re not going to have a very satisfying run this morning, are you?”

  “Maybe not, but it’ll be damned satisfying to carry you back to the cabin and give your butt the paddling it deserves.”

  Laura blinked in the face of his gleaming eyes and calmly uttered threat. Her cheeks flushed with heat. She slowed her pace to match his, telling herself that it was best not to rock the boat at the moment.