Bound to Please

by Lilli Feisty

  “Good girl. Now take the strawberry and touch yourself with it. Touch that gorgeous pussy of yours.”

  Her fingers trembled as she took the piece of fruit.

  “No one is watching, Ruby.”

  How had he known she’d been wondering that? He always seemed to know what was on her mind, and she didn’t even look around to see if he spoke the truth. She didn’t need to. Instead she reached between her thighs and gently touched the strawberry to her damp flesh. She nearly moaned.

  From a fucking strawberry. But the cold bite of the champagne was a shock against her hot skin and she felt her body react, felt herself melting into the upholstered Ritz-Carlton dining chair.

  “Now tell me, baby. Aren’t you glad you took off your panties?”

  “Don’t,” she managed, but she loved it and she spread her legs a tiny bit more.

  “Then tell me. Tell me I was right.”

  She slid the strawberry a bit higher, her legs going slack. “You were right. You were so right.”

  “Are you wet, then, baby?”

  “Yes.” And it was true. She was slippery. Slippery when wet. The thought made her giggle, and she touched her clit with the tickly tip of the berry.

  “God, Ruby. You go so easily.”

  “Go?”

  “Yeah. You fight so hard, but then, fuck. You belong to me in an instant.”

  “No… I don’t belong to anyone.” But here she was, wearing no panties, masturbating under the table with a strawberry at one of the most formal restaurants in northern California. “You fucking bastard.” She twirled the strawberry in her wetness, coating it, loving the way the tiny bumps caressed her swollen clit, even loving the fact that someone might wonder what she was doing with her hand beneath the table. She could climax from just that, from him getting her to this point.

  “Give it to me.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “What?”

  “The strawberry. Feed it to me.”

  “No,” she said with a smile. “This feels too good to stop.”

  “You disobedient girl.”

  “Sometimes,” she agreed. Then she waved the fruit under his nose. His shoulders looked tight, his biceps flexed as he watched her. The veins in his neck visibly pulsed. She paused with the strawberry just beyond his lips, and when she finally saw him breathe, she moved as if to feed him. His mouth opened, eager as a baby bird. But then she pulled back. Bringing the strawberry to her own lips, she opened her mouth and bit through the tart flesh of the fruit, tasted her own juices mixed with the sweet berry.

  She ate the whole thing, tasting, chewing, swallowing. Smiling. Her lips burned from his gaze. Yeah, she would pay for this later.

  And she couldn’t wait.

  Chapter

  Ten

  You know, I played guitar once.”

  After she’d finished the last of the strawberries, she expected him to whisk her into a broom closet or some other nook and ease this need between her thighs. But instead he’d led her outside, past the valet, and away from the hotel. Now they were strolling along a narrow, man-made path.

  He liked to torture her, that much was obvious.

  Still, part of her was enjoying the easy way they talked as they walked along the smooth cement trail that ran beside the wild coastline. But even the Ritz gardeners hadn’t been able to tame the wild vines of jasmine that still grew along the perfectly rounded edge of the concrete, the flowering vine’s perfume mixing with the sea-salt air. This scent made her nostalgic, made her think of home.

  “So you’re a musician, then?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I was never very good, but I got blisters trying. My dad loved music. He taught me how to play.” Growing up, it was one of the few things they did together, one of the limited activities they shared an interest in, so she’d taken advantage and spent as much time as possible learning about music. “I think that was why I always found myself going out with boys who were in bands.”

  “You’re a groupie?” he said teasingly.

  “No. I swore off musicians when I turned thirty. Along with sculptors, potters, and painters. And writers. They’re the worst.”

  “You really have dated quite a few creative types.”

  “It’s a disease.” She thought of James Cleaver and wondered if she’d finally found a man who met her requirements. He’d become even more flirtatious on the phone over the past week, yet she’d been unable to get as excited about this turn of events as she thought she should be.

  Mark squeezed her hand. “Oh? So you only date photographers now.”

  “Nope. I eliminated them, too.”

  He chuckled and they kept walking.

  “Anyway, my parents were total hippies. Always had people around, playing music. During the summer of ’75 Jerry Garcia would come and jam with my dad. I was only five, but I knew even then that I was witnessing something special.”

  “Wow, 1975. I wasn’t even born yet.”

  She gave him a playful punch. “Brat.”

  “So I’ve been told. The ladies don’t seem to mind my rakish disposition, though.” He tilted his mouth in one of those killer grins of his.

  She said, “Speaking of the ladies, I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “When did you know you were… you know? That you liked to be dominant.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him give a start. “Wow. That was a strange conversation segue.”

  “I’m known for them. Sorry.”

  Slowing his pace, he regarded her dubiously. “Seriously? You want to go there?”

  She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Seriously.”

  “Fuck, I don’t even know. I did tie my girlfriend to my bed when I was sixteen.”

  “Why am I not surprised? And you just… kept exploring?”

  “Kinda. I really got involved about five years ago.”

  “Why then?” she asked.

  “I just needed something… more.”

  “Like?”

  “Christ, Ruby,” he said, running his hand over his scalp.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  He blew out a gust of air. “Because sex had become routine, easy.”

  “Oh.”

  “See? You don’t want to know.”

  She tugged his hand, urging him to keep walking, talking. She did want to know this part of him.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “Shit. Okay. Well, I just always liked being in charge, having control over someone, over their pleasure. At first I couldn’t believe I actually enjoyed inflicting pain on another person. But then I accepted how much they liked it and it fed me. I get off on making people get off, I guess. In music, in sex.”

  She smiled. “So, big, bad rock star Mark St. Crow is really just a people pleaser at heart.”

  “I can’t help it if it pleases some people to be spanked with a hairbrush, doll. I just do what I can.”

  She was glad the dark night hid her blush. She coughed. “I bet. So five years ago you started getting into, uh, spanking people.”

  “Yeah. We put out our first record, and our venues got bigger and bigger. Our band became more well known. Soon I had girls… er… well…”

  “Go on.” She could take it. She could. This thing between them was temporary, and she was curious—and curiously turned on—to learn about his voyage into BDSM.

  “Girls were everywhere. I could have sex ten times a day if I wanted to.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Do whatever I wanted to them.”

  “Right.”

  “They wouldn’t say no to anything.”

  “I get it.” She pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders.

  “But straight sex wasn’t doing it for me, and more and more I realized it was the power exchange I craved.” His strong shoulders jerked a shrug. “I get off on it, of knowing I can bring someone total pleasure.”

  “You really are confident in your abilities.�
��

  “Haven’t had any complaints yet.” And he gave her that crooked, cocky smile.

  They’d come to the end of the man-made path and now stood facing the ocean. In the distance, moonlight reflected an infinite pattern on the water and the waves roared against the cliffs, sounding as if the sea could rear up and suck them away.

  After a moment, she said, “I love it when I plan a huge event and everything comes together. I look out in a crowd and see things running smoothly, and I know it’s because I left no detail ignored. It’s a rush. And when I… submit… I feel a similar kind of power, which is so strange to me. I don’t understand it, any of it.”

  She saw him pull something shiny and metallic from his jeans pocket. It was a knife, and she watched as he quickly sliced through several vines of jasmine. He stood, holding the long strands in his hands.

  “Why do you have to?”

  “Understand my feelings? Because I want to know! I want to know what’s wrong with me that I like pain, that I like to be controlled.” She clutched her wrap in her fists. “It goes against everything I believe about myself.”

  “Like?”

  “Like, I don’t like to give up control, for one thing.”

  “I know.”

  “See? It’s so confusing.”

  “Were you this confused with your ex? The bondage expert?”

  Was it her imagination, or did he say those last two words with a slightly bitter edge?

  “Not at the beginning,” she said. “But then yes. As things progressed, as I found myself more and more willing to do whatever he wanted. Then I started wanting him to do even more. And then…”

  “What happened?”

  “One day I found some other girl’s bra in the laundry.”

  “What a dickhead.”

  “Doesn’t matter. His first love will always be his art. Just like yours will always be your music. Women will always be secondary to guys like you, and, frankly, I look at the whole thing with Ash as one big close call.”

  “Guys like me, huh?” He faced her. “So, you think there’s not room for both? Women and music?”

  “Do you?”

  “No.” He stepped closer. “But this is about you. I see your problem now.”

  “What?”

  He took her chin in his fingers. They smelled like jasmine and melted butter.

  “You’re scared of letting go, afraid of getting your heart broken.” He leaned closer, his lips a breath away from hers. “That’s why you resist your deepest desires. It’s the ultimate vulnerability, right?” His gaze dropped to the pendant at her throat. “But you love to be ruled, don’t you? You’d get on your knees for me right now if I wanted you to.”

  “Probably,” she said against his lips. “Even though I know I shouldn’t.”

  He licked her bottom lip, his tongue sweeping slowly, lovingly, over her skin. Now she smelled the jasmine and tasted the butter on Mark’s lips. A shudder went through her.

  “And yet here you are,” he said finally, his breath warm against her mouth, still damp from his kiss. “Trembling for me.”

  “I’m obviously out of my head.”

  “Not yet. But give me a few minutes.”

  “You are such a cocky bastard.” But she was smiling, and then she was kissing him, holding him to her. All this talk should have calmed her down, but admitting her most intimate thoughts to him only made her feelings for him stronger, made her body’s response to him more erotic.

  She was so, so fucked.

  But she’d already gone this far, and she knew there was no turning back, at least not tonight. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d try to get back to normal. Now, she just wanted to feel his solid flesh against hers, wanted to taste his skin. Everywhere.

  Smiling, she pulled away. Then she dropped to her bottom and flung her legs over the side of the cliff. He looked startled, as if he thought she was about to jump over the edge.

  She looked up at him. “Don’t worry, you haven’t made me suicidal quite yet. This may look like a dangerous ravine, but it is, in fact, a way down to the beach.”

  He eyed the overlook with a doubtful expression.

  Sliding her sandals off her feet, she hooked the ankle straps with her index finger. “You’re not scared, are you, Mark?”

  He peered into the narrow valley. “Should I be?”

  “Come on, Mark,” she said as her bare feet hit the dirt. “Just trust me.”

  Chapter

  Eleven

  See? You’re fine,” Ruby said. But it was a ridiculous statement because halfway down he’d picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. Now he placed her on her feet in the sand.

  “You would have broken your neck.” He bent down to unlace his boots then tugged them, along with his socks, off his feet.

  “No way.” She threw her sandals next to his discarded boots. “I know that path like the back of my hand.”

  “That was not a path. That was a cliff,” he said, straightening. In the dark he looked stronger somehow, the moonlight emphasizing his sharp jaw and long, lean limbs.

  When he’d picked her up to carry her he’d draped the jasmine vines around her neck and now he pulled them, tugging her toward him so he could lower his mouth to hers.

  She could kiss him all night, but she pulled away, running ahead along a small creek, the vines falling away behind her. She had a destination in mind, and she knew Mark would follow her lead.

  Tucked away, the little cove was dominated by a huge cypress tree, its limbs grandly sweeping the area like protective arms. And it was fitting because she’d always felt safe here; when she was growing up, it had been her little private spot. And now she was here for the first time in years, with Mark.

  The soft breeze of the ocean washed over her in a salty caress that made her skin tingle, and the sound of the sea pounding the shore roared in her ears. The sand felt like a thousand little massages on the soles of her feet.

  When she reached the dark shadows of the cove, she turned.

  He approached slowly, picking up the vines she’d discarded and tying them together as he walked. His feet were pale in the moonlight.

  He closed the distance between them, leaned down and kissed her. Slowly, he leisurely ran his tongue inside her bottom lip, then pushed deeper. Everything faded as she fell into him, into this kiss. Desire crashed into her as the waves crashed against the shore. Her pussy went moist, her breasts felt heavy.

  When he pulled back she was panting. “Don’t stop…”

  “Take off your dress for me, baby.”

  She didn’t even hesitate. They were in public; anyone out for a stroll could see them in this little cove if they really looked. But Ruby didn’t care. She’d used dessert to pleasure herself in the dining room of the Ritz. What was a little public nudity after that?

  And she trusted Mark to take care of her. The realization hit her that she was willing to put her own safety in his hands; had she ever trusted anyone so much before? The answer frightened her.

  She began unbuttoning her dress. Her fingers shook slightly but she made quick work of it. Soon she had the top half open, and she pulled the dress over her head, tossed it into the sand.

  The chilly air hit her skin, bare except for her lacy bra. She shivered.

  “Take off your bra, Ruby girl.”

  Reaching behind her, she unhooked the clasp. Soon her bra was tossed on top of her dress and she stood there before him, naked. He hadn’t even removed his leather jacket.

  “You make me so fucking hot, Ruby.”

  She felt her nipples harden into tight little beads as a gentle breeze drifted over her skin. Or was it his words that had her body responding so intimately?

  He raked his gaze over her. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to keep control around you.”

  “Then don’t,” she said.

  As he took a step toward her, she thought she saw a rueful smile on his face. “Not an option.”

  “You’re always in con
trol.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.” He took both her hands in his, pressed the insides of her wrists together. He still held the jasmine vines, and as he wrapped one of them around her wrists the tiny white flowers released their pungent scent. The fragrance was exhilarating, and she inhaled deeply.

  The vine he used was about five feet long, and she watched, fascinated, as he tied a knot around her wrists. The jasmine reflected the moonlight in an ethereal glow, the leaves soft and dark against her pale skin. Being bound in something so beautiful took her breath away.

  He finished his knot, leaving himself about two feet of vine, which he used to lead her toward the tree. Like a prisoner, she followed a step behind him, surprised she could walk at all, her limbs were so shaky. Now that he had her under his control, what would he do?

  When they reached the tree, he tied the end of the vine over a low branch and tugged until her hands were stretched above her head. Until she had to use the balls of her feet to keep her balance.

  After testing the slackness of his “rope” he tied it off, securing her to the tree. Then he stepped back. His eyes were dark, intense, as he scanned her stretched, naked form.

  Goose bumps erupted all over her skin. Tied, helpless, bound. For him. For his pleasure; he could use her as he wished. And she wanted him to.

  He circled her, and she jumped when she felt his hands on her shoulder blades. “Ssssh,” he whispered against her ear. His breath was hot, damp. Her sex started to throb, and each caress of wind chilled the moisture between her legs.

  She’d never felt so aware. The ocean roared louder, the air was crisper, the moon shone brighter. And Mark. Mark was…

  Pressing his solid body against hers. His erection was rock-hard under his jeans, pushing at the small of her back. “Tell me something, Ruby.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do you like it when I touch your breasts?” His hands came around to cup her breasts, and he gently massaged the sensitive flesh.

  She moaned. “Yes.”

  “Tell me what else you like.”

  “I love it when you pinch my nipples.” She’d never said anything like it before, and the words seemed to echo in the darkness.