Bound (The Devil's Due Book 3)

by Eva Charles

  I give myself a moment to enjoy her gorgeous tits, the erect pink nipples daring me to touch. The pull in my groin is relentless. My dick is weeping. I need to get better control, otherwise, this isn’t going to be what I want for her—for either of us.

  I maneuver us toward the window, her ass against my cock, with only my pants between us.

  “The view is breathtaking.” Her voice is little more than a squeak.

  My hand splays flat on her stomach, cradling her against my aching cock. My free arm supports her breasts. “Not as breathtaking as you.”

  I love that she’s tall. That I can lower my mouth and reach her neck easily. I’m buying time. Trying to get my dick to calm the fuck down. I can’t ask her to suck me off, to take off the edge. At least I won’t—not yet. She seems too inexperienced, and there’s something that still bothers me—all that talk about sharing women with friends. Something about it didn’t add up, and it’s been on my mind ever since.

  “Any trauma, Kate?” I ask as gently as I can.

  “Trauma?”

  “Yes. Has anyone ever hurt you? Forced you to do something—sexually—you didn’t want to do?”

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  “Not very convincing, Mary Katherine.”

  She rocks her hips all over my dick, and I swat the side of her ass. She jumps. “Stay still and let me focus.” I draw a breath. “Trauma?”

  “No trauma. How many ways would you like me to say it?” Maybe not, but there’s something. I know it.

  Let’s approach this from a different angle. “Anything off the table?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Is there anything that you absolutely don’t like in bed, or don’t want to do? Some people call those things hard limits.”

  “Oral sex.” You have got to be kidding.

  I let my hand wander over her belly with light strokes. “Giving or receiving?”

  She lifts her shoulders with a slow, uncertain motion. “Receiving.”

  That’s an easy fix. “Anything else?”

  I feel her stiffen. “Anal—anal sex.”

  I pause for a few seconds, wondering if she’s had a bad experience, or no experience. Not everyone is into it or has tried it. It’s not that unusual. “What about anal play?” She shakes her head emphatically. “That’s a lot of good stuff you’ve taken off the table. Is there anything else?”

  “No.” She says the word so softly I strain to hear it.

  “Let me get this straight. You don’t like to have your pussy licked, but you’re okay with being tied to that bed and flogged or caned? And you don’t mind me dripping hot wax on your breasts?”

  Her head jerks, and she stares up at me with wide eyes. She’s pale, and even with a throbbing dick, I’m beginning to have misgivings about this. In truth, if I met her at a bar, she’s not someone I would ever take home. Not because she isn’t attractive—she is—in every way that matters to me. But I prefer to play with seasoned women who understand the game. I’m not someone who likes to spend a lot of time convincing a reticent woman she should let me fuck her. But somehow—I got caught up in her, and—

  “You—you do that? Beat women and pour hot wax on them?” she gasps.

  I cringe as she says beat women. “I don’t touch a woman without consent. And we don’t have to do anything like that. Not tonight—not ever, if you don’t want to. But sex is a whole lot more fun for everybody involved if we understand each other’s preferences. You’ve never had this discussion before, have you?”

  “No.” Her answer wedges itself under my skin. I knew what she was going to say, but it still pisses me off.

  “So you’ve only fucked mind readers?” It’s not really a question, just me being an irascible asshole, and she doesn’t say anything. “If you don’t talk openly and honestly with a partner, you can end up being handled with all the finesse of someone stuffing a Thanksgiving turkey, or worse. Is that what you want?”

  She laughs. It has a nervous, almost delirious edge. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at a turkey the same way again. Thank you very much.”

  Oh, no, Kate. You don’t get to blow me off tonight by being a wiseass. That’s not how this is going to work. “I want us to put everything on the table—I want you to give it all a try, just a small taste—even the things you think you don’t like, because you might enjoy them with me.”

  She draws a long breath but doesn’t release it.

  “Breathe, Kate.” I watch her take two shaky breaths, before continuing.

  “I’ll stop whenever you want. You just say the word and it’s over.” I kiss the top of her head. “Let’s explore. Let me test your boundaries, just a little.” I pause for a moment to allow what I’m asking to set in. “We’ll go slow. Even if you feel afraid, because of something I say or do, or because of whatever games you play inside your head—you never have to be afraid with me. You have the power to stop it, at any time. That’s the deal I’ll make with you.”

  “I thought you didn’t deal? That dealing was only for desperate people.”

  I take her hand and place it on my cock. “Feel the throb? That’s what desperate feels like.” I move her hand away because I’ve finally gotten some control, and I don’t want it to evaporate into thin air. Or in this case, thick, chewy air. “It’s a good deal. You should take it.”

  “Are you going to make me afraid tonight?” If I read the words, they would seem awful, but that’s not how they sound when she asks the question. She’s not frightened—anxious about the unknown, but not frightened. There’s a difference.

  “Not tonight.” I watch her reflection in the window. Her mind is churning. This is new, and she’s nervous, but she’s going to take the deal, because she’s curious, and although she’s not ready to admit it, she wants to explore too. At least some part of her does. “We’ll spend the weekend working up to it, if that’s what you want.”

  She places her arms over mine and tips back her head against my shoulder. As much as I’d love to be inside her body, what I’d like most right now is to be inside her restless mind. It doesn’t ever seem to quiet. I can fix that, too.

  “Let’s move closer to the window,” I say, nudging her forward. “Put your hands flat on the glass. That’s it. Press your breasts there too. Lightly.” She shivers when her nipples make contact with the pane, and my dick throbs hard. “Cold, isn’t it?” She nods. “But it feels good, doesn’t it? Like the nerve endings all over your gorgeous little body are singing.”

  She nods, again. “Can anyone see us from outside?”

  “Not enough light in here.” I feel her relax against me. “But if you take the deal, before we leave here on Sunday, I’m going to fuck you against this window. Lights on, so that everyone can see you from the street. And you’re not going to care. You’re not even going to care if the pane is strong enough to hold, as I pound you against it. You’re not going to think about any of it. All that will be inside that pretty little head is coming around my cock. That’s all either of us is going to care about.”

  The pulse in her neck is thrumming, and I’m teetering at the edge of restraint.

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  “Okay what, princess?”

  “I’ll take the deal.”

  Without another word, I lift her off the floor and carry her to the bed. Trust. That’s what the deal is really about. She gave you her trust. Don’t abuse it.

  I sit her on the edge of the mattress, where I can have better access to everything, and slide my hand into her thong, tracing the tight little seam with my thumb, while gorging on her soft mouth. She tips her head back and moans, fisting the quilt like it will save her. “Open your legs for me, Kate. Let me make you feel good.”

  Her legs ease apart, but nowhere near enough to give me what I need. From my haunches, I tear the skimpy little fabric that’s keeping me from her cunt. When my mouth is inches away from the sweetness, when her musky scent has taken over my brain, she whispers, “C
an we start with something else? How about if I—taste you?”

  She asks so timidly, so sweetly, and I want nothing more than to feed her my cock. Let it rest between her plump lips, while her tongue laps at the taut skin. But there’s no fucking way I’m doing that. She’s uncomfortable with my mouth on her pussy, but she’s fine with hers on my cock? I’m sorry, but that is not okay.

  “No. We made a deal,” I say plainly, before my better angels intervene. “But we can stop, if that’s what you want. We can get dressed, crawl into bed and go to sleep, or I can take you home, if you prefer.”

  I want her bad, but I’m almost at the point where I don’t care whether we do this or not. I’ve been hard for so long that I need the release, but my hand will do, if necessary. It’s been forever since I’ve been with a woman who is this timid, this uncertain, and I’m not interested in freaking her out any more than she is already. This is why I don’t play with rookies. I tilt her chin, and peer into those frightened eyes. “Should we stop?”

  She shakes her head vigorously—doesn’t hesitate for an instant.

  There’s a tug inside me I don’t understand. Something that goes beyond the physical release I’m chasing. “I need to hear the words, Kate.”

  She gazes at me with an innocence—an openness—a trust, that steals my breath. “I don’t want to stop.”

  This time I move more slowly, beginning with her mouth, sliding my lips over her throat, murmuring into her skin, before sucking each hard nipple between my teeth until she writhes under me. I graze slowly, taking my time, my fingers following a patient path to her pussy.

  When I get there, I spread her wide, my palms holding her open against the mattress. She presses her thighs into my hands, trying to clamp her legs together as I lick her. But she doesn’t protest, and the little sounds emerging from her lips are the gasps and sighs of pleasure. The push and pull makes my cock swell, and the ache to plow into her is clawing. I’m having a lot of trouble fighting it back.

  “You taste so sweet, princess, but you need more. I’m going to slide my fingers inside you. Remember how much you liked that in the alley?” She’s so wet my fingers slip in without much resistance.

  She’s also squirmy as hell. “If you don’t keep your legs spread, I’m going to tie them open. I need my hands.” I find the pleated rosebud between her cheeks, teasing it with my tongue.

  “No!” she gasps. But my tongue is already licking a path to her clit. I draw the sweet nub into my mouth, scraping the swollen flesh with my teeth. Her movements are jerky, and I feel her body tense as her slick walls choke my fingers. “Take it, Kate. Let go.”

  I coax her with my tongue, sucking on the hard little bead until she screams my name. Her hand flies to her mouth to muffle the pleasure and I want to push it away. I want to hear every sound she makes, but I’m a man possessed, and all I can do is slide the condom onto my weeping cock.

  I let my mouth crash into hers in a brief attack, before I flip her over, and hoist her hips into the air, gripping them so tight I know there will be bruises. But I don’t care. I plunge into her. There’s no gentleness. No letting her get used to me. Nothing. I just sink into her hot pussy. It’s only when I hear my balls slap against her tender skin, that I force myself to take a breath. “You okay?” I ask, slowing, but never stopping the assault.

  “Yes,” she groans, reaching behind to grasp my thighs. I lean over her and sink my teeth into the back of her neck. “Touch yourself, Kate. Play with your clit. Rub it real good, just the way you like.” She hesitates, but I don’t want to let go of her hips. I want them in my hands while I fuck her. “Now, Kate.” I slap her ass. “Don’t make me wait.”

  The smell of sex whirls around us, musky and dirty, and I fill my lungs with it until my chest is about to explode. Her quick fingers brush against my cock while she circles her clit. I want to watch her play with that dripping pussy. I want to watch her rub it raw. I grip her hips tighter. “You’re such a good princess. I’m going to fuck you nice and hard until you come all over my cock.”

  Her breathing is labored, as she grinds against her hand.

  “Kate. I don’t have much control left. I need you to take it.” Her hand works overtime. Her moans are strangled pleas. She’s sandwiched between me and her hand, when her body tenses. She buries her face in the mattress as she bucks, finding her release around my cock.

  I press my mouth to her shoulders, fucking through her orgasm with mine in reach. My spine prickles with the familiar tingle before my sight disappears, before there’s nothing but a black hole melting into the fuzzy outer corners of my vision. I erupt inside her with a roar that bounces off every surface in the room.

  26

  Kate

  Smith arranged for late check-out and we’re laying on the sofa watching the basketball game. He’s on his back and I’m nestled between his legs, on my back, too, wearing just a thin T-shirt he had in his gym bag. Eat, sleep, watch a little TV, and have sex, rinse and repeat. It’s the best kind of lazy Sunday.

  I scroll through my messages until I come to the one from Father Jesse, and as I read, guilt claws at my happiness, threatening to destroy a wonderful weekend. I hope you’re okay, he wrote. Missed you at Mass.

  He expected me at Mass. Until Friday night, I expected to be there too. Instead, I spent the weekend engaged in debauchery. So much debauchery. Where boundaries were tested, and the goalpost moved repeatedly, although not too far each time. I even ate a piece of sausage, which I still don’t really care for, even when it’s eaten from Smith’s deft fingers. But the sex? The sex was—there really are no words. Even a woman who makes her living with words can’t come up with the ones to do it justice.

  “Do you know what surprises me?” Smith asks during a commercial.

  “What?”

  “Even though you were tentative about sex, you’re comfortable naked.”

  Were tentative. It makes me smile and the guilt all about Father Jesse and missing Mass disappears. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

  He pinches my thigh and I squeal. “Among other things.”

  “I was on the dive team up until my sophomore year in college. Spent a lot of time in a bathing suit. It made me comfortable with my body. It’s not perfect by any means, but it works the way I need it to and it’s strong.” It’s something I like about myself—that I’m not always at war with my body, starving it, and punishing it with excessive exercise.

  He flips me over, so I’m facing him. “Your body is perfect. And it’s damned sexy that you aren’t embarrassed to take off your clothes or walk from the bed to the bathroom naked. It’s a huge turn on.” His hands cup my ass gently.

  “Is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?”

  He closes one eye, pretending to think hard. “I’m not big into golden showers.” I give him an exaggerated eye roll. “Oh, and you are, miss don’t-lick-my-pussy? Although I doubt you’ll ever say that again.”

  “Humility is food for the soul. You should try it sometime.” I whack his chest. It doesn’t make a ripple, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing my wrists and pinning them against the small of my back.

  “What was your favorite event?”

  “The high dive.”

  “Really?” He says it with great reverence, and a hint of surprise. I smile proudly. It’s the most common reaction from anyone who has ever seen the height of a high diving board up close and gauged its distance from the surface of the water.

  “Takes a lot of courage to jump from that height into a dark pit.”

  “I’m a person of faith. I don’t take unnecessary risks, but I’m not afraid to die.”

  He lets go of my wrists and gathers my hair in his hands, gently tugging it off my face. He has that alert gaze. The one he wears during careful studies, while he takes note of small tells, and collects bits of information to sort through at his leisure. I change the subject before we get into some intense conversation about faith and death that is heavier
than anywhere I want to go right now. “You think I’m tentative about sex?”

  One corner of his mouth curls, and his probing look softens. “You’re passionate—and you’ve got fire in your blood. You have some hang-ups that get in the way at the beginning. Once you’re past it, you’re sexy as fuck.” He kisses me, his lips smooth and tender against mine. “And highly responsive. I think you have all the makings of a dirty girl in you.”

  I don’t know about a dirty girl, but I could easily become addicted to sex with this man. “Hmm.” I sigh contentedly, laying my head on his chest, while he runs his fingers through my hair, playing with the wavy strands.

  “Tell me about it,” he says softly.

  “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

  “Sure you do.” I don’t say anything. “Tell me why you’re so anxious about things that feel good to you. Did you have a bad experience?”

  A small panic worms its way into my chest. I know what’s coming. He’s going to nudge and nudge, and I’m going to tell him. And then—I don’t know what happens.

  “Does it have anything to do with what you asked me about sharing women with friends? Because my mind keeps going back to that.”

  He strokes my back with his fingertips. “Think about the last thirty-six hours, Kate. How much you trusted me. I don’t think I took advantage of your trust, did I?”

  I shake my head. “No.” I take a breath. “I-I-I don’t know where to begin.”

  He wraps his arms tighter. The warmth against my skin is welcome, but it’s not enough to thaw the ice deep inside. “Start where you feel comfortable. For most people that’s the beginning. But you start wherever you want.” He kisses my head. “Take as long as you need. I’ve got you.”

  I’ve got you. I so want to believe it. And right now, I allow myself that indulgence—even though Father Tierney’s words are tattooed on my brain in neon: don’t mistake lust for love. I’m not a fool to think this is love, but I believe it’s something more than simple lust. I do. And that belief nudges the well-protected pain from the dark corners of my soul, luring it out into the open where it hangs vulnerably.