Bound for Trouble

by Alison Tyler

  The world may have seen a bold, successful executive, but I saw a man who desperately needed someone else to take the reins—if only for a little while.

  I’d seen glimmers of that desire the times I’d wrested control from him in the bedroom. The first time I flipped us over and rode his cock, I saw his eyes light with fire. The next time, I took things a step further, holding his wrists over his head as I ground my body against him and took my pleasure. I watched his face soften as he surrendered to my will and lost himself in pure, unadulterated lust.

  I felt like his true nature had been revealed to me for the very first time, and it tripped something inside me. I wanted to see that look again. I wanted him exposed and vulnerable, abandoning everything he thought he needed to be.

  While he may have lavished me with expensive presents, that moment of clarity and release would be my gift to him.

  To date, every one of our sexual encounters had taken place at his luxurious penthouse suite, but for my plan to be successful, I needed to take him out of that space. It would only remind him of every responsibility he needed to forget.

  Every time we spoke during the week I was mulling my seduction, I was more tight-lipped than usual. Mainly because I was having a hard time making polite conversation. My mind was busy conjuring up different scenarios that would end with Marco in my thrall. I could see him—leather cuffs wrapped around his wrists, hands chained overhead. That lone image haunted me, fueling my lust at inopportune times, like when Marco called to ask me what I wanted to do that night.

  It was clear that he’d sensed something was on my mind, and he was eager to head off what he perceived as an impending problem. That’s my Marco—a man of action. His response to my aloof behavior was to clear his entire evening. He made a point of letting me know that night would be solely about the two of us. I let his announcement hang in the air. Before responding, I wanted to savor the fact that he’d rearranged his schedule for me—and let his discomfort last a few seconds longer. He seemed so eager to please me, and I got an indecent thrill from the notion.

  After a long pause, I told him I’d love to spend the night with him. Marco then tossed off the names of a half-dozen ultraexclusive restaurants, but I shot down each suggestion. He seemed confused.

  “I was thinking something more cozy. Like, say, Chinese takeout on my living room floor.”

  He laughed softly. “That sounds perfect.”

  I knew it would be.

  This would be the first time Marco got a good look at my apartment. It was a midsized studio that was more than enough room for me, even though it was more like a walk-in closet to most people in his social circles. But it did have certain amenities that his luxury building lacked—like eyebolts in the headboard.

  I didn’t point those out to Marco, though. He’d be aware of them soon enough. I wanted him to relax, so he’d be open to what I was about to offer him—a temporary escape from all that weighed on him. It seemed he was already on his way. He looked casual and comfortable that night, having traded his usual uniform of a custom-made suit for a white button-down and faded jeans. His normally perfect hair was a little less so, and the first few buttons of his shirt were open, revealing a patch of caramel-colored skin dusted with dark hair.

  We had a relaxing dinner, sitting cross-legged and barefoot on my living room rug. Marco leaned back against the couch, wineglass in hand, gazing at me without speaking.

  “What’s up? You have that look in your eye.”

  “Thanks,” he said softly.

  “For what?”

  “For this. For something so…simple.”

  “I think simple pleasures are the most satisfying.”

  I brought my hand to his cheek, stroking it and feeling the barest hint of stubble scratch my fingertips. He turned his face, kissing my palm, and his warm, soft lips made my flesh tingle at their touch.

  “The night’s not over, though,” I added.

  “God, I hope not.” Marco’s dark brown eyes glowed with passion.

  “Then come,” I told him, rising to my feet and offering him my hand. He stood and let me lead him across the room to my bed.

  His hands immediately went to me, eager to strip off my dress.

  “No, baby—my place, my rules. Hands at your sides.”

  Marco seemed startled by my request, but he obeyed, his lips curling into a smile.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied teasingly.

  “Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

  I took my time unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off his shoulders, sliding my hands down his muscular arms to caress his toned, tanned flesh. My hands lingered at his waistband as I leaned in for a kiss. He lifted his arms as if to embrace me, then remembered my command and snapped them back to his sides.

  “Good boy,” I murmured against his lips.

  A growl came from deep in his throat, and he kissed me roughly. His tongue was aggressive, diving between my lips. I could tell that he was struggling to keep his hands where they were, but the fact that he did made me ache for him. I felt the pulse of arousal beating deep inside me, escalating with every second he complied. I grabbed the back of his head, tangling my fingers in his thick, wavy hair to hold him in place. With my lips pressed to his, I felt the change within him. His aggression melted, transforming into a burgeoning tension brimming with unfulfilled need. His desire for me was still just as strong, but he held himself in check, even as his yearning increased a hundredfold.

  Breathless, I pulled away, and we stared at each other for a heartbeat.

  “So, do you have any other rules I need to know about?”

  “Well, the most important one is that I’m in charge.”

  Rising up on my toes, I kissed his cheek and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “And that means you’re my plaything for the night.” Marco drew in a deep breath, seeming to hold it as he waited for me to continue. “That means I’m going to strip you down and cuff you to my bed. Use you for my pleasure. And if I’m satisfied, maybe—just maybe—I’ll let you come.”

  Marco exhaled with a groan.

  I brought my hand to the front of his jeans, feeling his erection as hard as ever beneath the well-worn denim. I cupped his bulge and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “It seems my plan agrees with you.”

  “Yes, yes, it does,” he murmured.

  “Yes…?”

  “Yes…Ma’am.”

  “There you go,” I said softly.

  Reaching under my dress, I slid off my panties. They were already damp, merely from me telling him what I wanted to do to him. I balled up the satin and brought it to his face. “Open,” I commanded, tucking the moist scrap of fabric between his parted lips. Marco’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and I smiled. That’s what I wanted. I wanted his world to stop; I wanted him to focus on what he was feeling both physically and emotionally. I knew this was new territory for him; he was used to being the man who made all the decisions. But there were no decisions to make, other than the one to submit. Having already made that commitment, he was completely free.

  Marco clenched and unclenched his fists as I unfastened his jeans and slid them down. His hard cock sprang free, but I didn’t touch it—no matter how tempting it was. There would be time for that later. As he stood before me, naked and vulnerable, I let my eyes roam over his body. His formidable muscles were tense with lust and anticipation. He could have stopped me at any time, but it thrilled me that he chose not to.

  With a gentle hand on his chest, I backed him toward my bed. He kicked away his clothing and let me direct him, settling himself where I wanted him in the center of the mattress. He lay on his back against the ebony comforter, and I straddled his hips. I was keenly aware of his erection—hot and hard—just inches beneath my naked slit. I was sure he could feel the heat emanating from my slick, wet sex. I pulled my dress over my head and tossed it aside, finally as naked as he was. My pale pink panties were still wedged between his lips, and I leaned
forward, flicking my tongue against them. Marco uttered a muffled groan that was laced with frustration.

  Reaching under the pillow, I pulled out a set of leather cuffs. They were soft and supple but would hold him fast.

  “Hands,” I commanded, and Marco didn’t delay, offering me his wrists. The sound of metal against metal as I buckled the cuffs into place made my cunt clench with anticipation.

  After kissing each of his hands in tender acknowledgment of him putting his trust in me, I raised his arms overhead, attaching each cuff’s clip to an eyebolt embedded in my wooden headboard. Marco gave a small tug, but his hands went nowhere. He exhaled and briefly closed his eyes, his resignation fueled by relief and absolute surrender. He seemed more at peace than I’d ever known him to be.

  I lowered my body, pressing his stiff cock against his stomach as I trapped it between us. Rather than taking him inside me, I rocked my hips forward and back, riding the length of his shaft. With my hands pressed firmly to his chest, I writhed above him, my dance fueled solely by my desire. Tilting my body just so, I was able to get the pressure and friction against my clit that I craved.

  As I worked my body in a perfect rhythm, I kept my eyes locked on Marco’s. The lust and desperation that were reflected back at me only served to excite me further. His face and chest were flushed, but he kept his body rigid and still. The beautiful boy—he was playing by my rules. He was letting me use his handsome body to work myself closer and closer to climax. I felt the pleasure rising, flooding my body until it burst in a bright explosion of ecstasy.

  I was loud when I came, crying out and squeezing my thighs against his body. When the last wave washed over me, I collapsed against Marco, crushing my breasts against his heaving chest.

  After yanking the panties from his lips, I kissed him deeply. I heard the clicking of metal overhead as he tugged at his cuffs, and I smiled against his mouth. Reaching back, I took hold of his cock, so slick and hot. With deliberate slowness, I lowered myself onto his shaft, taking him in deep. My cunt clenched around him, and Marco’s cuffs rattled once more. I could see the conflicted feelings flashing across his face. I knew he wanted to ram up into me, to take what he so desperately desired. But he’d promised to let me be in control—and deep down he liked that. So he obeyed. He lay as still as possible and surrendered to the pleasure that filled him as I rose and fell, riding him until he groaned with abandon and came inside me. All of that sublime tension in his body disappeared as he let himself go and focused on nothing but bliss.

  Afterward, in between heavy breaths, Marco dared to speak.

  “You’re right.”

  “About what?” I asked, trailing my fingers down his chest.

  “Simple pleasures are the most satisfying.”

  PAPER CHAINS

  Annabeth Leong

  Malinda knew Lorrie well enough to read her mood by the way she chewed her cereal. She sat in the chair next to her wife and poured herself a bowl to match. “Spill,” Malinda said.

  Lorrie put down her spoon and blinked. With her angelic face and wavy blonde hair, the innocent act would have worked if Malinda hadn’t seen it a hundred times before.

  Malinda narrowed her eyes. “Come on. You’re obliterating those poor cornflakes. What’s going on?” Then she looked away to give Lorrie a little space.

  Malinda toyed with the salt and pepper shakers they’d gotten from their wedding registry a year ago and stroked the petals of the pink anniversary roses she’d given Lorrie earlier that morning. She had a complicated, extravagant evening planned. In her gut, she feared she would overwhelm Lorrie, who so frequently seemed fragile. Malinda still could not bear to cancel any of it. She could not master her need to make Lorrie happy, to give her anything and everything necessary.

  Lorrie gave the little shrug that meant something was definitely wrong. Malinda took a bite of her own cereal and chewed as slowly as she could to give her wife plenty of time. Lorrie responded much better to patience than to repeated requests.

  The third bite in, she finally talked. “I don’t want to go to that restaurant tonight.”

  “I’ll cancel the reservation,” Malinda said immediately. “We can go wherever you like.” She smiled and offered her best compromise. “I’ll even take you for sushi if you want.”

  Lorrie shook her head, her blue eyes hidden behind feathery wisps of her hair. “It’s not just that restaurant, though I appreciate the offer of sushi.” She sighed. “I don’t really want to go to a restaurant. I want to do something really special for our anniversary.”

  “I’m going to make sure it’s special, I promise.”

  Lorrie pushed the cereal bowls out of the way, then touched the back of Malinda’s hand. “That’s just it, Malinda. I want to do something special. For you. For once.”

  Malinda forced herself to meet her wife’s gaze. She’d started to understand what this was about. “Lorrie, I like the way things are. I don’t need anything from you.”

  “I know. Believe me.” Tears trembled at the corners of Lorrie’s eyes. She looked so tired and defeated that Malinda’s heart broke a little.

  “Hey,” Malinda said. She kissed Lorrie’s cheek quickly, before she could allow her nerves to create distance between them. This was not how she’d wanted their anniversary to go, but if one year of marriage had taught her anything, it was that tears and fights seemed to come most reliably at the times they felt obligated to “be happy.”

  Malinda searched herself, trying to figure out why she resisted so strenuously when Lorrie wanted to do something for her. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I want to tie you up and make you come.”

  Malinda’s heart dropped into her stomach and kept going down to her feet. She stammered for a moment. “I know how you feel about making me come, but—”

  “Please, Malinda. I want to.”

  Malinda swallowed hard. As far as sex went, she preferred to give rather than receive. Hell, as far as anything went. Accepting another person’s efforts overwhelmed Malinda, making her feel too exposed and filling her with squirming uncertainty about her own worthiness. In bed, this discomfort compounded with her body’s sensitivity, magnifying the slightest touches until pleasure became almost agonizing. Under the best of circumstances, Malinda could barely tolerate having her cunt licked. She would much rather make Lorrie feel good, touching and teasing her body and basking in the simple joy that sensation seemed to bring to her wife.

  Lately, though, Lorrie had been asking more and more frequently to go down on her. Malinda used to try to endure that when they’d first been together, but over the years, she had gotten skilled at avoiding that particular issue. Now she realized she hadn’t dodged her wife’s requests as smoothly as she thought. She sighed and studied the expression on Lorrie’s face. Her wife was so beautiful—too beautiful for Malinda, really—and it seemed crazy to turn down her fervent wish to make Malinda come.

  Still, Malinda couldn’t bring herself to agree. To buy herself time, she shifted their conversation. “And you said you want to tie me up?”

  Lorrie squared her shoulders. “Yes.”

  “That BDSM stuff has been so trendy lately,” Malinda said after a minute. “But I don’t like the idea of pain. I don’t want rope burn.”

  “Malinda.” Lorrie leaned forward and took her hand. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make you feel good, and this is the only way I could think of to get you to let me.” She seemed so earnest and lovely that Malinda could not refuse.

  Malinda sighed, making the sound far more theatrical than it had to be. She succeeded in winning a smile from Lorrie. “All right,” Malinda said.

  The smile that lit Lorrie’s face made it all worth it. Lorrie gave Malinda a peck on the lips that lingered a little. She pulled her cereal bowl close again and settled into a placid chewing rhythm.

  Relief flooded Malinda’s body. Disaster averted. All she had to do was let her hot wife make love to her. She could manage that. Ought to
be able to, anyway. She ignored the churning in her gut. She wolfed down the rest of her breakfast and promised Lorrie she’d leave work right at six so they’d have plenty of time for anniversary celebration.

  “All right, where are the fuzzy handcuffs?” Malinda let the apartment door slam shut behind her.

  “You’re lucky I don’t want to hurt you, or I’d spank you senseless for that.” Lorrie came out of the bedroom, dressed in Malinda’s favorite dirty-sorority-girl sweats. The back of the pants actually said JUICY. The word always made Malinda laugh—and grab Lorrie’s luscious ass.

  “Oooh, threatening.”

  In response, Lorrie narrowed her eyes in her cute-angry way, which meant she actually felt affectionate. This was a good start. A giddy good mood began to settle over Malinda. Come to think of it, she liked staying in for their anniversary. It would be good to have sex before she felt sleepy. She’d also be spared the belly full of rich French food that inevitably made her want to lie flat on her back, robbed of the energy necessary to grope her wife.

  “So, seriously, where do you want me?” Malinda backed against the wall and mimed hanging from chains. She knew she was being a bit of a jerk, but not knowing what Lorrie planned had kept her keyed up all day.

  “You’ve really got an attitude, you know that?”

  The word attitude set off Malinda’s deepest sense of rebellion. She’d heard that way too much in public school, from teachers who couldn’t seem to understand what a girl went through as an out lesbian tenth-grader. She lifted her chin. “What are you going to do about it?”