Easy

by Donna Alam

  I don’t trust myself to answer as he slides the rope around my wrists.

  Chapter Fifteen

  LOUISE

  Lying on my side, the rope chafes the skin of my arms in several places. I know my expression registers discomfort, but it seems to fall short of Dan’s notice. Whether by accident or on purpose, I’m not sure.

  ‘I think you’re the devil.’

  I keep my tone light—it’s not his fault I’m trussed. He gave me the opportunity, and I was greedy for it. Now I’m not so sure. I try to remain still to prevent any rope burns. It’s hard enough to hide the thumb-sized bruises he leaves on my wrists. So I keep still. Isn’t that what submission means? Taking without complaining. Can I really want this?

  From the other side of the room, Dan chuckles. ‘I might have guessed you’d make me the villain. If it makes it easier, I aim to please.’

  Stepping closer, his eyes flick to my collarbone made prominent by my position and the intricate tying of rope. Wrists tied to elbows behind my back—an elegant not-quite bra making my nipples hard. Despite the initial feeling, and despite his beautiful handiwork, maybe I’m not quite ready for this.

  This isn’t pretty silk tying my wrists to the headboard. This was . . . real in the rawest sense.

  ‘How are you doing?’ he asks amiably. We’d discussed how he’d untie me immediately. All I had to do was say the word. True, the first twinges of discomfort have turned to aches, most tellingly in my shoulders. I exhale a rush of air. Yes, I’m a little uncomfortable, but I want to see where he’ll take this. And I hate giving in. Hate losing. Hate being second best. ‘Ready to tap out?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I reply. Forgetting the rope for a moment, I relax my elbows, causing the rope to chafe. I wince, my body tightening again.

  ‘My poor darling, does it hurt very much?’ His mouth makes a teasing moue, not that I’m buying his sympathy. His eyes burn too bright for one thing.

  ‘Would it matter if I said yes?’

  ‘You with your pained expression and such wide, innocent eyes. Anyone would believe you didn’t want to be strapped down.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to be. Not like this.’

  ‘No? I hardly forced you to comply. You could—can say—stop at any time.’

  This much was true, but I’d been up for the experience. Truthfully, I still was. I wanted to know where he was going with this. If he’d just get to the point of my release—yes, that kind of release. Before untying me, that is.

  ‘Remember, this is a punishment. I bought you a gift and not only did you forget to bring it along, but you also rubbished it.’ His jeans are back on, though barely. Buttons popped, they ride dangerously low on his hips. It was hard not to see his bulge. Any other time, I’d have a quip at the ready, but presently, my mind is filled with other things.

  ‘How was I supposed to know you’d want to use them tonight? And just so you know, this fucking rope burns.’

  ‘It isn’t a fucking rope, silly. It’s a tying one. If only you could’ve seen your expression when I’d pulled it from the drawer. It was like Christmas, right there in your eyes. That wasn’t shock. More like delight.’ His hand reaches out to touch my right knee, drifting farther to mid-thigh. ‘I know you like the cuffs, but rope brings another dimension; rope hurts to resist. Twine makes you more mine.’

  ‘You’re a poet—’ Would never know it? I don’t get to finish as he pinches my inner thigh.

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘I can be the devil, the villain of this piece—of your piece. So long as when it hurts, you remember I am so, that I do so at your behest.’ His eyes glitter dark and sexy, his voice hoarse and strained. ‘It’s ironic, isn’t it?’

  I frown, familiar fears sprouting at the truth in his words. No one normal wanted their sex like this. Who wanted to be tied like a partly trussed pig? Pain and embarrassment and sex hardly go hand in hand. Which means I’m an aberration, not normal. I’m—

  ‘And there it is; the first flickering of doubt.’ Hands on either side of my waist, he pushes me onto my back, leaning forward and kissing me full on the mouth. ‘The flame that blisters. The blaze that bites.’ Then he does the same, taking my bottom lip into his mouth.

  My sigh is libidinous, and softened by his attentions, I become almost malleable, sinking into his biting touch. What was the use of overthinking when he knows the inside of my head better? Stiffening at the sudden realisation, my arms ache as my knuckles press further into my back.

  ‘Every little movement, each tiny twist of rope against your flesh, reminds you how helpless you are.’ Coming closer, Dan’s whispered words touch my skin, his body an elegant arc over mine. I close my eyes to the intensity in his tone, anticipating the weight of a body that doesn’t come.

  ‘Every hint of discomfort, every degree of disquiet, pushes you closer to that edge. The rope may secure you, may keep you in place, but it’s the questions that keep you hanging there.’ His lips hover over mine as though to remind me of his point. ‘It’s not what I’ve done that excites you. It’s the thoughts running through your head. The endless possibilities. The scenarios your mind creates. Now that I’m helpless, what . . . will . . . he . . . do . . . next? He punctuates each word with a kiss. My forehead. My cheek. My mouth. And then, as an encore, he presses his teeth into my bottom lip.

  A sigh stutters from me, my thighs widening and opening as though this is enough to bring him to me. I want him—crave his body and touch.

  ‘This is a pretty invitation.’

  I moan loudly as his fingers sweep along the slick seam between my legs. I push my hips from the bed to get closer, and in an instant, he slips his hands under my shoulders, edging my head to the side of the bed. Strands of hair cover my face, and Dan tilts my chin, brushing the strands away. I smile up at him and, for some silly reason, wink. But then he sighs in that protracted, long-suffering way. It’s a sigh that says it pains me to do this or this will hurt me as much as you. Whatever the idiom of his choosing, I don’t have to wait long to see what he’s up to.

  My smile falters as his sadistic one grows as his hand tightens at the nape of my neck, rolling me unceremoniously onto my front. My chin hanging over the bed, I can’t see much for my hair again, though this position is way easier on my arms. As I contemplate the sisal carpeting, my heart jolts at the distinct descent of his fly. My heart rate dances a tango, the beat seeming to match the solid pulse between my thighs. But then my hair in his fist at the base of my skull as he whispers, ‘Could have been worse, you know. I could’ve used the cable ties instead of a bit of limp hemp.’ Then he tilts my head up and back. It’s then that his plan makes sense.

  ‘That’s right, my lovely Louise. Open wide.’

  Suddenly, discomfort doesn’t seem such an issue anymore as I widen my jaw to comply.

  Chapter Sixteen

  DAN

  Has there ever been a sight more perfect than this?

  The rope compliments her golden skin, her hair is wild and her expression dangerous. The usual flecks of green in her eyes seems to have been extinguished by a tawny gold. She’s like a lion tamed. A lioness tied. And for all the beauty of the situation, I’m still half surprised she let me use the rope. Half surprised but so bloody grateful. Despite her inexperience and her playful complaints, her tendencies in the bedroom are submissive. Especially when she leaves her attitude at the door.

  I need to remember I didn’t do this to her. She came to me this way. I might have unwrapped the package, but she stepped from the confines of the wrappings all by herself.

  I smile to myself, settling the elastic of my boxer briefs under my balls, and once pulled free of the constraints of the material, I place the tip to her mouth, running the smooth head along her full bottom lip. We both groan at how this looks; her lying trussed on the bed, itching to touch herself. Me towering over her, cock in my hand, the head balanced on her lush pink lip. The pearl of liquid at my very tip as she harvests it with her tongue.


  ‘Where did I find you?’ My words feel scratchy in my throat, the need to drive myself into her mouth great.

  ‘You didn’t find me. You made me,’ she whispers in response. Her compliment like pure lust to my veins, but before I can answer, she seeks to remind me of just how wild she is, bringing down her top teeth like a trap. I instinctively jump, but she’s just playing, though my heart still thunders like hooves.

  ‘And you call me the villain.’ I tighten my hand in her hair as I pull back with a hiss. The delicate graze of her teeth and lips are like a shot of vodka downed too fast.

  ‘You are the devil. For tying me like this.’

  ‘Say the word and I’ll set you free, my lioness.’

  Her expression lights up as I return the compliment. She twists her mouth to one side as though considering. ‘I don’t think I will. I’ll wait and see what you have in store.’

  I chuckle low and soft. ‘This isn’t painting a picture for you, love?’ The human mind is so fascinating. In her position, she still finds the strength to goad.

  ‘Well, yes,’ she replies. ‘But it’s more than just me. I want to see what kind of effect this has on you when you come.’ I shake my head. I’ll come like a freight train, and she wants to see? She’ll more than see it—she’ll feel it hitting the back of her throat so fast she’ll gag. ‘I only hope it’s worth the discomfort,’ she says.

  ‘It will be. At least for me.’

  ‘Have you ever been tied?’ She tries to contain her smile, trapping her lip between her teeth. ‘Physically, I mean.’

  ‘We each have our quirks and foibles, my lioness. Mine prefer this side of the rope.’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

  Nor do I intend to.

  As her eyes flick to my cock, they seem to burn with wicked thoughts.

  ‘Given your position, I’d suggest caution.’ My warning is clear. Teeth may be her only weapon, but they’re fucking dangerous.

  ‘Smug much?’ she replies. ‘Do your worst.’

  ‘Darling, don’t tempt me. My worst won’t be best for you. I’m not sure you’re ready for the ugly side of this relationship.’ I shake off her words. It was her inexperience talking, but I still shoot her a warning. ‘You’re taking quite a risk.’

  ‘You’re the one thinking about putting your money maker where my mouth is,’ she teases.

  Instinct tightens my grip on her hair, and in response, she makes a small noise of annoyance.

  ‘You talk a good game,’ I say, instinct tightening my grip on her hair. ‘But how about you stop talking now and suck my cock.’

  Is it possible to smile and keep your mouth wide? Well, she fucking tries. She looks so delicious. All pink lips and eagerness.

  My bare toes curl into the rug as I slide in because she’s warm and wet and fucking divine. And so tight as I enter the channel of her throat. The muscles of my abdominals tighten as I ease in a little deeper, feeding my hand under her chin as I fight the instinct to ram myself in. Her anterior neck muscles contract as I slide in slowly—deeply—tightening around my hard cock.

  ‘That’s it, sweetheart. Take me. Take all of me.’

  Was it always this wonderful?

  As I slide back, tears teeter on her lids, her clear and guileless eyes staring up into my face. Grim satisfaction grabs me viscerally . . . right before she flicks her tongue over my sensitive head again. My body bows, caught by surprise, and she actually giggles. I can’t hold back my own smile. I don’t even try. Though I’m certain it takes on a different slant as I feed her my cock again.

  God, she’s gorgeous. So beautifully used.

  Mascara stains, running in uneven lines down her face as my hips begin to flex. She’s a messy kind of gorgeous now. Not so golden. A little more red. I bring my other hand to her hair. Not for control, but a way to be closer. To draw her to me. To get under her skin.

  No greater honour exists than being offered control. And there’s no greater pleasure for me than taking it from her. With this final thought, white hot power shoots down my spine. Knees bent and my heart bursting, my climax begins to pulse into her throat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  LOUISE

  Rain still falls softly against the window as I wake with the duvet covering me and tucked under my chin. I’m alone as I stretch the sleep from my body, pushing the duvet to my waist. I felt light. Like a load lifted as the cool morning air kisses my skin. I smile imagining Dan slipping from the bed earlier and quietly tucking me in. Feeling all sorts of warm and fuzzy, I nestle my head further into the pillows, stretching my legs out along the bed.

  I startle as a hand grasps my foot which peeks from the sheets, relaxing again as the hand reaches my calf. I sigh, pointing my toes in a horizontal en pointe, not yet ready to speak.

  ‘You can tell a lot about a woman by the condition of her toes.’ His voice is husky and like a tongue flicking between my legs.

  ‘You just like them because they’re painted blue,’ I say, my voice sleep filled.

  ‘Your assumption being?’ He sounds amused as if he knows where this is heading.

  ‘Because they look like they’re bruised.’

  He chuckles as he begins crawling the length of my legs, growling words against my skin. ‘Not exactly the kind of marks I like to leave.’

  ‘Not your preferred calling card, huh?’

  His lips reach my neck, neck bone being connected to my clit, or so it seems. ‘I don’t need bruises to tell where I’ve been.’ His words are barely a whisper as he draws my hands up and over my head. ‘Unless I decide to leave one like this.’ His teeth graze my neck, lips sucking the flesh just a touch.

  I sigh, turning my head in invitation. Fuck the marks, I decide. I’ll wear a turtleneck for work.

  ‘I aim to please,’ I drawl, turning my face into the pillow to camouflage my smile.

  ‘Oh, you do.’

  His praise blooms in my chest, warming me through.

  ‘Did you go for coffee?’ A girl can hope for lots of things.

  The answer to my question is no, it seems. He halts, his head hitting the pillow next to me. He drapes his arm over my waist, pulling me closer, bringing the scent of soap and cologne and the faint smell of coffee.

  ‘There’s coffee downstairs. Don’t pout.’

  ‘Where’ve you been, then?’

  ‘Answering emails, browsing Sunday supplements, eating copious amounts of cereal with my son.’

  My body tenses, my eyes flicking to the door. ‘He’s here?’

  ‘No.’ Dan laughs, his arm tightening in its hold. ‘He just popped in to say good morning. And eat. And talk my ears off. He’s gone back next door, then off for a play date.’ His gaze lowers unashamedly from my face then. ‘He wasn’t invited to ours.’

  Pulling on the quilt for modesty, I cover what I can. ‘You might’ve warned me, at least.’

  ‘You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.’ His stronger grip holds the bedding, restricting my plan. ‘You looked far too beautiful, my sleeping lioness.’

  ‘I might’ve walked in on you both, naked. Did you think about that?’

  His eyes close slowly, sliding those slender, refined hands beneath his head. ‘I hadn’t.’ He sighs. ‘But I am now.’

  ‘Kid would need therapy,’ I say, laughing and pushing him hard with my knee.

  ‘Exhibitionism isn’t your thing,’ Dan replies, opening one eye and matching it with a sly smile. It almost sounds as though he’s trying to goad me into the opposite.

  If only he knew.

  ‘You don’t know everything about me,’ I respond, something hot and sweet flaring deep in my gut. An image rises like smoke in front of me, tiny whispers of sensations, of people’s eyes on me as I writhe in ecstasy. The full effect of the desire is just beyond my reach. Unexperienced. ‘Have you never heard the saying there’s a first time for everything?’ So many firsts with Dan recently, but this one? This one is staying as a fantasy.

 
‘First times are fantastic,’ he rasps, suddenly pushing me flat and himself over me. The cool metal of his belt buckle prods my hip. ‘Virgins, as a rule, are overrated. But first times and you are something else.’

  My heart jumps ever so slightly at his powerful words, though I manage to shrug off the compliment. ‘I so don’t want to hear tales of your deflowering exploits.’

  ‘Not to worry. The only recent deflowering I’ve been guilty of is joining Hal in knocking off the heads of his mother’s roses.’

  ‘The poor kid’s already in therapy then?’

  ‘We were playing Power Rangers.’ Dan shrugs. ‘Not acting out. Well, he wasn’t. He’s fine; she’s the one who needs a shrink.’ He seems to shake himself as though to eradicate the thought. ‘But that is a tale you don’t need to hear.’

  ‘Agreed.’ It’s too soon. Not to mention, he clearly doesn’t want to share.

  How are you faring this morning?’ Pulling himself onto his elbow, he peers down at me with a cryptic smile.

  My eyes slide away quickly, my cheeks starting to heat as I recall last night. The way he’d looked as he’d come. His whispered praises and his ecstasy. The marks of the rope on my skin for hours afterwards, a map telling the tale of our evening. His exquisite aftercare.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I manage. Booboos all kissed better, thanks.

  ‘Positively verbose,’ his clipped tone announces. ‘You don’t want to talk? Discuss last night? Go for a review?’

  ‘God, no!’ This comes out more like a laugh.

  ‘How very un-American. Perhaps you don’t like first times with me?’

  ‘I just don’t need a dissection,’ I say with a shrug.

  ‘But it’s part of the fun.’

  ‘Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a sadistic streak a mile wide?’

  Lying back against the bed, he slides an arm under my head. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve been a pussycat. You haven’t the capacity to like being truly hurt.’

  ‘That sounds like a slight; should I be offended?’

  ‘No slight implied,’ he says, before asking suddenly, ‘What would you like to do next?’