by Erika Rhys
“Really?” I said. “You’re that good?”
“Consider yourself warned. Now, are you prepared to put your freedom on the line—or are you going to chicken out on me?”
I grinned at her. “Me, chicken out? Never.”
The foursome ahead of us moved on to the next hole, and Ava gestured toward the green. “Go ahead. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Ladies first,” I said. “Take your time.”
She positioned her golf ball on the tee-off pad, before standing to its left and gripping her putter far too rigidly.
“You’re holding your club the wrong way,” I said. “And you need to loosen up your hips.”
She gave me a don’t-mess-with-my-mojo look. “This is what works for me.”
With an awkward, tentative swing that would have made a golf pro cringe, she hit the ball, which trickled across the green and stopped several inches from the hole.
“Nice one,” I said appreciatively.
“I’m out of practice,” she said as she walked up to the ball and tapped it into the hole. “I should have made that shot.”
My first putt overshot the hole, but my second went in. “I’m just getting warmed up,” I said, stretching my arms and twisting my hips from side to side.
“So am I,” she said, throwing me a confident smile. “Prepare to lose, Kingsley—because you’re going down.”
“You’re the one who’s going down, Walker.” I leaned close to her as we strolled toward the second hole and lowered my voice. “Down on my bed, with your hands and feet tied to the frame.”
Ava laughed as she dropped her ball on the tee-off pad of the second hole. “We’ll see about that.”
By the time we finished playing the front nine, I was less sure of the outcome. As weird-looking as Ava’s putting technique was, it worked for her, and my score was only one stroke under hers. And at the eleventh hole, which featured a hill that funneled the ball down into a hole that dumped it out near the real hole, I screwed up badly enough for Ava to seize the lead, which she held until the fifteenth hole, when her ball missed a narrow bridge and plopped into the water beneath.
When we reached the eighteenth and final hole, we were tied—and then, Ava pulled off a hole-in-one. As the ball rolled into the hole, she shot me a bright, victorious look but said nothing as I positioned my ball on the tee-off pad, eyed the hole, and prepared to swing.
I hit the ball and watched it roll toward the hole, willing it to go in. If it didn’t, I would be getting tied to my own bed, a prospect with which I wasn’t entirely comfortable. I’d never let a woman tie me up before, and when I’d proposed the bet with Ava, it had never occurred to me that she might actually win.
As the ball approached the hole, it slowed but not quite enough, and instead of dropping into the hole, it clinked against its rim and spun away from it, stopping several inches away.
Fuck. “Congratulations,” I said, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “You win.”
“I got lucky,” she said. “I almost never get a hole-in-one, and we’re so evenly matched, the game could totally have gone either way.”
“No need for modesty,” I said, resolving to take my loss like a man. “You played a great game, and you won, fair and square.”
She stepped toward me, linked her arm through mine, and we exited the course together.
“You’re a good sport,” she said. “And now that I’ve won, there’s something I need to confess.”
“What’s that?”
She gave me a teasing look. “I’m really looking forward to claiming my prize.”
30
AVA
After leaving the Pier 25 minigolf course, Ronan took me to a nearby restaurant, City Vineyard, where we enjoyed a leisurely meal of delicious wine and fresh seafood. Between the restaurant’s rustic yet elegant wine-country décor and its spectacular views of the setting sun, which painted the waters of the Hudson River and the skyscrapers of Manhattan with a golden warmth, the setting could hardly have been more romantic.
The care he had taken in planning our outing moved me and heightened my awareness that with each passing day, I was falling deeper in love with him, a knowledge that periodically slammed into my gut and terrified me. If letting Ronan into my heart was a mistake, then it was one I couldn’t take back, because when it came to my feelings for him, I’d passed the point of no return.
But right now, basking in the afterglow of what felt like our first true date, it seemed certain that Ronan was falling for me, too. Why else would he go to the trouble of planning an afternoon and evening so clearly intended for my pleasure?
Which was why, when we returned home, stepped into the privacy of our apartment, and Ronan closed the door behind us, I cupped his face in my hands and drew him into a tender kiss.
“Thank you for today,” I said, tracing my fingers over his stubbled jawline. “You completely surprised me—and everything was beyond perfect.”
His answering smile only reinforced my conviction that he returned my feelings.
“I’m glad you enjoyed our outing,” he said. “After the wedding mania of the past few weeks, you deserve a break.”
“So do you,” I said, kissing him again, before taking his hand and tugging him toward the master bedroom. “But first, you need to lose your clothes.”
He swept me off my feet and into his arms. “And let you tie me to the bed?”
I smiled at him. “We made a bet—and I won.”
“You did,” he said as he carried me toward the bedroom. “And I’m a man of my word. But before we do this, I need to tell you that letting you tie me up will be a new experience for me.” He set me down on my feet in the middle of the bedroom. “I’m game to give it a shot—I just can’t promise that I’ll be into it.”
Ronan’s admission caught me by surprise, and I fixed him with a look. “You never expected me to win, did you? You expected to be the one tying me up—not the other way around.”
“I did,” he admitted. “And male anatomy being what it is, I’m concerned that I might not be able to…”
I finished his sentence. “Rise to the occasion?”
“Something like that.”
When Ronan’s confession sank into me, a sense of power tinged with mischief came over me. Tonight was my turn to take charge, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do to him.
I linked my hands behind his neck and looked him in the eye.
“Get naked,” I said. “And trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you’re definitely going to rise to this occasion.”
31
RONAN
Intrigued but nervous about what was to come, I began to remove my clothes, while Ava disappeared into her dressing room. When I was finished undressing, I lay down on the bed and waited for her to return.
When she did, she was as naked as I was, except for several flowing, colorful silk scarves draped around her neck. Despite my nervousness, my cock hardened at the sight of her.
She climbed onto the bed, straddled me, and we shared a heated, lingering kiss, before Ava tied one end of a translucent red scarf around my left wrist.
“That’s not much of a restraint,” I said, eying the delicate fabric. “I could easily rip it in half.”
“Maybe you could,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor as she looped the other end of the scarf around the bedframe and knotted it firmly. “But then, you’d miss out on the meaning of doing this together.”
“Which is?”
“Trust,” she said, her expression turning serious. “And a kind of equality.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re much physically stronger than I am,” she said as she finished securing my other arm. “Because of your strength, when we make love, I trust you in ways that you don’t have to trust me.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I said.
“Giving up control means trusting me with your pleasure,” she said, moving down the bed to my fe
et. “It can be deeply erotic.”
I gave her a skeptical look. “We’ll see about that.”
She tied a final knot and then climbed onto the bed and between my legs.
“Look at this,” she said, eying my erection and shooting me a wicked look. “So much for performance anxiety.”
She spoke the truth. My brain might not be fully on board, but the rest of me was ready to go, and when she dipped her head toward my crotch, I anticipated the velvety warmth of her mouth around my cock. Instead, she teased my balls with her lips and tongue in ways that made me crazy with lust, all the while lightly stroking my shaft with her hands.
As heat thrummed through my veins, I released a low groan and succumbed to the moment. When she ran her tongue up and down my cock and then sucked lightly on its base, my vision went black for a second. Forgetting my bonds, I reached for Ava, but the silk binding my wrists held my arms against the mattress.
“Ride me,” I said. “Take me inside you.”
“Soon,” she said, her voice husky with desire. “But not yet.”
She continued to tease me with her lips and tongue, pushing me to the brink of orgasm, driving me to heights of arousal I couldn’t remember experiencing before.
Then, she straddled me and brushed the tip of my cock against her entrance, before leaning forward and running her fingertips through my hair, down the sides of my neck, and over my chest, exploring the muscles of my torso. Her light touch electrified my skin, and her breasts, tipped with the pert, rosy nipples I loved to play with, swung tantalizingly close to my face. I strained against my bonds, raising my head and shoulders as much as I could, trying to catch a nipple between my lips.
With both hands, Ava gently pushed my shoulders down against the pillows. “Relax,” she said softly, her eyes dark and intense. “Trust me. Let me enjoy your body the way I let you enjoy mine.”
“You’re the boss,” I said. “As long as I get my turn to tie you up later.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “Do you ever stop negotiating?”
“No. It’s part of my charm.”
She layered kisses down my neck, before delivering a bite to my right nipple that sent a jolt of sensation straight to my cock. “We’ll see,” she said between kisses. “But not until I finish having my way with you.”
She continued to tease me with kisses, nibbles, and caresses that kept me rock hard and craving more. Although part of me wanted to tear myself free from my bonds, seize Ava, and bury myself inside her, being her sex toy was fucking hot.
Her hands and mouth roamed my body, touching and tasting every part of me, while she used her own body to tease me, one moment exchanging a heated kiss, the next offering me a brush of her hardened nipples against my lips, or a taste of her slick folds.
When she finally positioned herself above me and guided my cock inside her, I groaned in ecstasy as, with deliberate slowness, she took me into herself, controlling the moment and prolonging it.
As my cock slid into her hot, wet perfection, a millimeter at a time, I gasped, overcome by the sensations that shot through my entire body.
Had anything in my life felt this amazing?
It hadn’t.
And then she began to move. The sight of her riding me, with her dark hair flowing around her breasts, would have undone any man, and I was no exception. For an instant, she literally took my breath away, as her beauty and the intensity of the moment sucked the oxygen from the room.
When she sped up the pace, I arched against the mattress, straining against my bonds as my arousal heightened and my pulse went into overdrive.
“God, Ava,” I groaned. “I’m going to come.”
She shot me a meaningful look—and rode me harder.
Sensation arced through me, and a rushing sound filled my ears. Ava cried out, calling my name, just before my world exploded, shattered by the orgasm of a lifetime. Fireworks filled my vision, and when the room stopped turning around me, my body buzzed with the aftershocks of release. My heart still hammering against my chest, I drew in deep gulps of air as Ava freed my hands and feet, before stretching out on the bed beside me.
“Wow,” I said, too stunned to formulate anything articulate. “Wow.”
Ava gave me a satisfied look. “Despite your skepticism, it seems you enjoy light bondage.”
I pulled her into my arms. “What I enjoy is having my cock inside you. Being tied up had nothing to do with it.”
She pressed a kiss against the tip of my nose. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure…well, mostly sure. In any case, you deserve all the credit.”
She ran her palm down my abs and then over my cock, before smiling at me. “Let’s just say you inspire me.”
As I gazed into her eyes, something twinged inside me. Ava was an amazing woman, a loyal friend, and an incredible lover. For a brief moment, I wished I were a better man. The kind of man who deserved a woman like her by my side, the kind of man who could trust himself to treat her like the treasure she was.
But then I pushed that thought aside. I was who I was, and right now, it was good to be me. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
I cupped Ava’s breasts and teased her nipples. “Time for payback,” I said, giving her a suggestive look. “Now it’s my turn to tie you to the bed.”
She laughed and held out her slender wrists to me. “Go ahead,” she said. “I’m all yours.”
“That’s right,” I said as I reached for one of the silk scarves that were strewn across the foot of the bed. “Tonight, you’re all mine.”
32
AVA
“The wedding’s only eight days away,” Mimi said. She sipped her coffee, eyeing me over the cup. “How are you holding up—and how’s your new arrangement with Ronan working out?”
“Everything’s fine, I guess. It’s just all more than a little confusing.”
It was Friday morning, and we were sitting in Mimi’s jewelry studio, drinking coffee at the battered workbench where she brought her creations to life. With the wedding arrangements completed, I was finally able to catch my breath—but having time to think was also forcing me to acknowledge my deepening feelings for Ronan.
“What do you mean?” Mimi asked. “Confusing in what way?”
“Ronan’s giving me mixed signals. His words tell me that he thinks of us as friends with benefits—but his actions send a different message.”
“Give me some examples,” Mimi said.
“When we worked out our new arrangement, we agreed to maintain separate bedrooms.”
“I remember,” Mimi said. “Sleeping separately from him was one of the ways you hoped to keep some emotional distance.”
“It was—and initially, Ronan went along with it. He didn’t seem to care. But now, after we make love in his bed, if I try to return to my room, he finds a way to get me to stay. And when I wake up in the morning, he’s wrapped around me.”
“So it’s not just about sex anymore.”
“It certainly doesn’t feel that way. I haven’t forgotten about his history of dating half of Manhattan, but what we have together feels real.”
“People can change,” Mimi said. “Even playboys like Ronan Kingsley.”
“Last Saturday, he surprised me by taking me out on a date, followed up by a night of incredible sex.”
Her face brightened, and she reached for the vintage tin where she kept her weed supply and rolling papers. “You have to tell me everything—but before you start, I’m going to roll myself one mother of a joint, which will only enhance my vicarious pleasure.”
“How the hell do you do it?” I said as she dipped her fingers into the tin and then crumbled a thick line of green leaves onto the rolling paper. “How do you smoke the way you do without ever seeming to get high? It’s a mystery to me.”
She winked at me. “Thirty years of practice. I’m a well-adjusted hippie girl.”
Her nimble fingers made quick work of rolling the joint,
which she stuck between her lips, before using a hot-pink lighter to ignite its tip. She inhaled deeply before blowing smoke toward the ceiling and fixing her gaze on me. “Now, tell me everything. And don’t you dare leave out the sexy bits.”
I told her, and when I explained the bet that had resulted in Ronan letting me tie him up, she laughed out loud.
“Ronan’s a good sport,” she said, taking a drag on her joint. “I like that in a man. And actions speak louder than words. Do you think he’s falling in love with you?”
“Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but our relationship doesn’t feel like friends with benefits. It feels like more.”
“Do you want it to be more?” she asked.
After a long moment, I met her gaze and admitted the truth. “I do. I’ve tried to keep my emotional distance, but my feelings just keep getting stronger, and I need to know if he feels the same way. Based on his behavior, I believe he does—but if he doesn’t, I need to take a huge step back.”
“From the sex?”
“And everything that goes with it—the intimate conversations, the constant touching, and all the other gestures that make me feel like he’s falling in love with me, just as I am with him.”
“Have you talked with him about this?”
“Not yet,” I said. “But I intend to.”
“When?”
“Soon. Either this week, before the wedding, or the week afterward, when Ronan gains access to his trust and things settle down.”
“What does Cara think of all this?” Mimi asked.
“Cara’s sure that Ronan’s in love with me—and she couldn’t be more thrilled. She has visions of our fake marriage becoming real. But she also said that he needs time to acknowledge his feelings and advised me not to rush things between us, which is why I’m considering waiting to talk to him until after the wedding, when we’re both under less stress.”