Tied to the Tycoon

by Chloe Cox

  “Jackson?” she whispered, so softly she couldn’t be sure that anyone but her could have heard. She was still so afraid of catching the attention of the skaters below, of being seen.

  The crunch of boots grew closer, then stopped. Whoever it was must have been right behind her. It must be Jackson…right? What if…

  Oh God, what if it isn’t him?

  The delighted shriek of a female skater from below stretched her mind as tight as the ropes that bound her: which thing did she fear more? Being seen, or the unknown man behind her? One of the men in her line of sight threw back his head in laughter, and Ava flinched. He could have seen her, and if one of them did, then they all—

  A large, rough hand pressed into the small of her back, and her awareness of the world around her contracted into the small area of contact where the unknown man’s skin touched hers. He rubbed the hand up her spine and down again, setting her whole body to trembling again.

  He did not speak.

  She was afraid to ask.

  Her body reared with desire, her lower back straining to present herself to whomever was behind her. Her animal brain was taking over completely. Jackson had done exactly what he knew would drive her insane: left her bound, vulnerable, under someone else’s control, and he’d done it in a place where she could be seen.

  Oh God, she needed to get fucked. She needed Jackson.

  Please, Jackson…

  He wouldn’t let her be left for anyone else; he wouldn’t want her with anyone else—he’d said that, hadn’t he?

  “Jackson? Oh God.”

  The man behind her thrust his hand between her spread legs, palming her ass with a large hand while his fingers stroked at her wet folds. Her leg began to shake again, an involuntary response, and her body strained against the rope that held her arms aloft as she tried to reach back to him. It was mindless. Before she knew it, she’d groaned aloud, and this brought her back slightly, reminded her there was some reason she hadn’t called out, hadn’t demanded, out loud, to know who was behind her, even though she was sure it had to be him, this had to be part of his plan, and then she looked down.

  Part of his plan…

  Nobody had heard her—yet. The skaters still chased each other around the pond. But if this continued, she wouldn’t be able to hold it in. She would scream out into the night.

  The man behind her seemed to read her thoughts. He pushed two fingers deep inside her, and she let out a surprised cry as her hips pushed into his hand and her arms pulled against the rope, her eyes flying wide open.

  “Oh God…please…”

  The man didn’t answer except to reach around and rub one nipple, then the other, spreading a slick, smooth oil on her skin. As he reached down to her clit, a prickly warmth began to rise up on the surface of her skin where he’d spread the oil. She had just a moment to wonder what was in the oil before he thrust a third finger inside her and began to rub the remaining oil on her clit.

  This time, she cried out.

  She couldn’t bear to look down, couldn’t do much of anything besides fight off the pressure that was building inside her. She wasn’t ready—she wasn’t near ready to have a screaming orgasm in front of all of these people.

  The man still held her, one hand in the front, the other in the back, his fingers working inside her. She felt him lean close into her back, felt the itchy material of his sweater.

  Jackson…

  “Don’t you fight me, Ava.”

  It was Jackson’s voice, Jackson’s low, dominant growl. She opened her eyes and looked up to the moon. His fingers swirled around her clit in a slow, steady, maddening rhythm. Soon she would be helpless to keep from coming. Her entire low body was contracting in anticipation, her insides coiled tight around the pressure.

  “Think about what you learned so far. Don’t fight that. You need to relax into me, just let it go. Go into that space. Do it now.”

  How did he know about that? About what it had felt like, tied down in his apartment, her legs spread? Like she’d shed all earthly concerns, existed only on a current of sensation and love and…

  “This is what you’re going to do, Ava: you’re going to face your fear of being seen for what you are, and you’re going to use it. You’re going to take that feeling of being ashamed and afraid and turn it into something worthwhile while I fuck you. You will come hard, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear you and look up and see you getting fucked, and you’re going to like it.”

  Ava closed her eyes again and felt herself slide into that place. It felt slow, but must have only been a few moments. His fingers were pushing and rubbing, each movement a burst of sensation, like a steady beacon guiding her toward a space where everything but the present fell away. She opened her eyes, looked down at the skaters below, and sighed.

  Could she do it? She knew, suddenly, that she could. Somehow there was freedom in obedience. She could do this for him.

  He pulled away from her, and the shock of it brought back the reality of being bound, of being tied between trees, of the rustling sounds of his clothing, of a zipper being undone, of the alternate extremes of cold air and warmth from the lamps. It was like her mind became unmoored, battered about with the sudden intrusion of the rest of the world, and there was a moment of sheer panic at the suddenness of it, at being off-balance—

  He plunged into her with his cock, driving in deep, so deep and so quickly that she felt herself pushed forward against the ropes around her ankles, forcing her down against the ropes that held her wrists. She screamed, loudly, her eyes wide open.

  The skaters all looked around. One looked up. Then they all looked up.

  He grabbed her by the hips, massive fingers gripping her hip bones, thumbs digging into the tops of her buttocks, and pulled her back as he pushed forward, going deeper and deeper with every stroke. Everything disappeared except for the feeling of him, pounding into her, the oils he had rubbed on her, the sounds of his skin against hers.

  “Keep your eyes open, Ava,” he growled, and slowed his stroke, pulling out until she could only feel him at the very edge, until she missed being full of him, until she was desperate for it. How did he know?

  She opened her eyes to see the skaters all watching, all entertained, smiling broadly. One clapped, and gave her the thumbs-up sign. Days ago, she might have been destroyed by that; now she let it add a little spark to the sensations she already felt, let it add to the simple, animalistic joy she felt at being fucked by Jackson Reed. He made it into something else, made it safe for her to be bare. Nothing could hurt her; her vulnerability was now a boast, not a wound.

  Like he knew, he bucked to her again, and this time, there was no stopping it. She started a slow, continuous cry as he plowed into her, her body refusing to be held at bay any longer. The pressure that had built up—so much pressure, as though it had been collecting for years—began to unfurl, slowly at first, then gathering steam. It was unlike any other orgasm she’d ever had, lashing at her, working its way up her body to a slow, steady beat until it reached her mind, and the echoes reverberated back down her spine, all the way to her core, and the resonance blew her apart.

  She had no memory of what happened next.

  She supposed she screamed.

  She supposed he came inside her. She supposed he cut her down, carefully, wrapped her in the parka, and carried her back from the edge.

  When she came to, fully, her brain still kind of foggy, her mouth still not working properly, he was holding her in his lap while he leaned back against a tree. He’d brought a heat lamp and cleared the snow, and there was both water and wine and a little picnic basket nearby. The rocky place where she’d been bound and fucked was not fifteen feet away.

  Jackson was brushing her hair, caressing her face, her neck with his large, gentle fingers. She turned toward his hand on her cheek and instinctively kissed it. He tilted her face up to his, which was dark and unknowable with the moon behind his head.

  “Hey,” he said, h
is voice catching. “I’m so proud of you.”

  She didn’t know what she had expected to hear, but it wasn’t that. She pulled at his sweater, and he bent down to kiss her. It felt…perfect.

  Jackson took care of her for a long time, feeding her a little food, making her drink water. And when he decided she was ready to move, he helped her get into some comfy sweats he’d brought, wrapped her back in that warm parka, and carried her back to the sled. He even carried her back inside, all the way to their room, and put her to bed. But not once did she feel weak, or incapable. Instead, the whole time she felt mighty and strong, and she even, for a brief moment, allowed herself to feel loved.

  But it would last less than a day.

  chapter 13

  Jackson woke up slowly. He didn’t move for a long time. Ava was sleeping peacefully, curled up against his chest, and he didn’t want that to change. Besides, he needed some time to take it all in in the light of day. That had been the most intense scene he’d ever done.

  He’d never been so hopped up before a scene, either. It wasn’t like him. Just wasn’t. And it wasn’t that he’d doubted the outcome, or his judgment, or Ava. It just…mattered more. More than anything he wanted to give her release from the pressure that she felt from whatever it was that she was so afraid of. Even if he didn’t feel he owed her everything, which he absolutely knew he did, he would still want to help ease that burden. It hurt him to watch her carry it. And maybe if he could help her to overcome it, in steps, eventually she would tell him about it.

  He tried not to think about the fact that, technically, he only had a week.

  And it did trouble him that she was even more guarded now than she had been then. Though he supposed that shouldn’t be such a great shock. Ten years was a long time, with plenty of opportunities to get hurt all over again. He had no idea where he’d be if it hadn’t been for what Ava had given him.

  With a cute little sigh, Ava half woke up, grabbed one of his hands, rolled over with her bare ass against his already-hard cock, and hugged his arm to her chest, right up against her breasts.

  If Jackson were any other kind of man, he might have suffered in silence. But he wasn’t. He was who he was, and Ava was his sub, and they had an arrangement.

  Those breasts were his to play with if he felt like it, and he felt like it.

  “Hey,” Ava said, sleep still thick on her tongue.

  “You knew what you were doing,” he said into her hair, and tweaked a nipple.

  That woke her up. She wiggled her bottom and made a satisfied little noise when she discovered how hard he was. He rolled her breasts lazily in his hand, not in a hurry to rush. She pressed her ass into him a little harder, and he chuckled.

  “Nuh uh,” he said.

  She half turned, and he could see her frown in the way her brow furrowed.

  “Relax,” he said. “I just decided that you should beg first.”

  She tried to turn over, he was sure to swat at him, but he caught her wrists and moved them up above her head. He knew she liked that. In a just a moment, he shifted his weight and brought his other arm around and under her neck and transferred her wrists from one hand to the other. That left him free to play with his right hand while she was pinned on her side. The first thing he did was get another handful of her luscious breasts.

  Her breathing quickened, and he could feel her getting wet already. They were so perfectly matched. Right now, he couldn’t think of anything hotter than Ava, held under him, wanting him, and he would’ve given good odds that she would say the same.

  “What do you say?” he said.

  “Mmm, I don’t know.” She was trying to sound nonchalant. She hadn’t succeeded. He felt her chest rising rapidly under his hand, knew she was getting hot.

  He moved his hand down and pulled away the sheet, uncovering her naked body. Then he slapped the side of her ass, hard. She giggled, and buried her face in the pillow. She was breathing even harder now.

  Goddamn she was beautiful. He wished she wouldn’t hide her face.

  “What do you say?” he asked again, and then gave her another good slap.

  He heard her smile in her tone. “What was the question again?”

  “Oh, that’s it,” he said, and rolled her over on her stomach to spank her properly. She stretched out her whole body under him, squirming in anticipation, and as she turned her face to the side, he saw a big, dumb grin on her face.

  Well, then.

  He sat up, still pinning her wrists down tight, threw one leg over her, and spanked her from right to left, left to right, then back again. She let out something between a giggle, a squeal, and a moan every time he struck her. He could listen to that all day.

  “Now what do you say?” he said, slipping his hand between her tight thighs and lifting off of her so she had room to spread.

  She let out a long, slow sigh, pushed her ass up off the bed like a gift, and said, “Please.”

  He could have fucked her like that, driving her face into that pillow until she couldn’t hardly stand it, covering them both with sweat and giving her a good start to the day.

  “Turn over,” he said.

  She looked over her shoulder, confused.

  “Turn over,” he said, this time softly. He helped her roll back over, lifted one leg and got around it so he lay between her legs. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and a bit concerned, like she thought she’d done something wrong.

  “I just want to see you,” he said, and brushed her long hair out of her face. “That’s all.”

  As soon as he said it, he felt the risk. Felt like he’d just let fly something fragile, felt like there was a great distance between him and the ground, and no guarantee that she’d catch the line. But it was true. He didn’t want to pretend it wasn’t. He had to see her while he was inside her, and know she knew he could see her, and he wanted her to know how much it meant to him. Just this once, just right now. He wouldn’t make her talk about it, not yet.

  “That’s an order,” he said softly.

  She pressed her lips together, her eyes big and blue and surprised, though Ava almost never let herself look surprised, as though surprise was a sign of weakness. He knew she wouldn’t speak, but after a moment, she nodded. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. By the time he had moved to her throat, she was smiling again, and her body writhed underneath him. Her breasts rose to meet his mouth, and she wrapped one leg around his waist, trying to pull him into her.

  That was enough for him.

  He rose, positioned himself with the head of his aching cock right at the entrance to her vagina, and planted his two arms on either side of her. Her blue eyes got big again, but she didn’t shy away. She met his eyes. And he slowly, slowly, slowly pushed into her.

  Inch by incredible, soft, warm, wet inch, he watched her face. He got to watch every sensation play across her features, got to watch as the pleasure built and her defenses faded away, got to see that, at her very core, underneath it all, as she was about to come while blinking back tears, Ava Barnett did love him.

  Even if she didn’t know it yet, even if she wouldn’t say it yet. She loved him.

  He rocked her to another orgasm, and then let himself loose inside her.

  ~ ~ ~

  After they’d made love in the bright morning light, Jackson had sensed that he needed to give her some space. Granted, it had taken him a minute. He’d been completely spent, not just physically, but emotionally. He’d thought the scene above the pond was intense, but Christ, Ava brought intense to a new level just by being Ava.

  He’d come to his senses still lying on top of her, sweaty and exhausted, and with the unmistakable impression that she was also coming to, and might need to do it without two hundred pounds of former football player on top of her.

  He’d kissed her, and then he’d kissed her again, and then he’d done it again, until he was sure she knew how much he meant it. Then he’d gotten up for a sh
ower with his fingers crossed that she wouldn’t put too much distance between them when he got back.

  If only.

  Jackson came back into the bedroom to find Ava sitting up on the side of the bed, the sheet wrapped around her, cell phone pinned to her ear. When she saw him come in, she turned away, her voice lowered.

  “What do you mean, you don’t want me to be blindsided?” Ava tried to whisper and yell into her phone at once. It didn’t quite work. “Spit it out, Ellie!”

  Jackson’s mind churned. Ellie was her sister, her kid sister. The one she was always crazy protective over. Ellie had been in high school during Ava’s senior year at college. Six years apart. Maybe seven? At the time, it had seemed like a big gap. It must have seemed even bigger when they were kids. Jackson had always had the distinct sense that Ava had been protecting Ellie since the day Ellie was born, but he’d never quite worked out from what or how. Well, from their mother—that much was obvious. Their father was dead. But what specific kind of harm Ava was afraid their mother might inflict upon Ellie was a mystery.

  “Say that again,” Ava said into the phone, her voice flat. She didn’t bother to try to hide her voice this time.

  Jackson toweled off his hair quickly and wiped his body down. No point in letting her know he was listening, paying attention, studying. Give her some semblance of privacy. It wasn’t like she couldn’t have gone to another room if she’d really wanted that privacy, anyhow. He grinned. Ava was the queen of self-sabotage. It would be just like her to sabotage her own efforts at holding a man she cared about at arm’s length.

  This is not the time to laugh, Reed.

  He set about dressing quickly, figuring he’d heard all he needed to hear. She’d tell him the rest if she felt like it. He didn’t have to wait long. He heard her say goodbye, and then turned to find her just sitting, motionless, on the bed they’d just shared.