BOUND: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Leah Wilde

  “I think I’m going to have to restrain you, baby,” he told me in that low, sultry tone. “You seem to have trouble obeying, and I’ve got so little patience for that.”

  He leaned over me and tugged my arms back so that they were behind me. It was awkward and I felt like it pushed my chest out further than it already was, but it didn’t bother me. None of this did, even though I felt like it should have.

  Shoving one knee between my legs, forcing them open wider, he leaned forward and used the belt to tie my hands together behind my back. He tugged on it, then used what was left of the length to attach to the arm of the chair. It pulled me more to the left, but ensured that I couldn’t escape if I wanted to.

  Not that I wanted to.

  “Next time I’ll bring cuffs or maybe some rope, but for now this’ll do.”

  Satisfied, he moved back, leaving my legs spread and my dress hanging open. I had to look a complete mess, panties stuffed in my mouth and my arms restrained behind my back, but the whole image was strangely erotic to me.

  When was the last time I had this?

  My gaze focused on him, watched as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and jerked it over his head, revealing a hard body. His muscled were cut like stone across his shoulders and abdomen, a trail of dark hair moving down his navel and into the tops of his slacks.

  Slacks that were tight across his crotch.

  Grinning at me, his hands went to the button of those slacks next. He popped it, then jerked the zipper down. He was bare beneath that black fabric. Pulling out his massive erection, he stroked himself once. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he told me.

  Leaving his cock for now, his hands went to my body. He pulled my dress open a little wider, then let his hands cup my breasts. He squeezed them roughly, then weighed them in his palms. “Heavy. You’re definitely a mom I’d like to fuck.” He let out a low laugh, then found the edges of the cups and slipped his hands beneath them. I moaned, a muffled sound thanks to the panties in my mouth.

  “You like that?” he said, more accusation than question. “You’re a dirty mom, aren’t you?”

  His fingers were hot against my skin as he moved the fabric of my bra aside. He cradled my breasts, letting cool air hit my nipples, hardening them. Then he ran his thumbs over the pebbled tips. Heat shot through my body, tingles running over my skin until I felt like I was on fire.

  He leaned forward, popping a nipple into his mouth. I let out another muffled moan as his tongue licked at it. Then I felt his teeth graze over the point, worrying at it just to the point of pain. Then he pulled back.

  His dark eyes met mine, lust making them like black pits. His right hand left my breast, trailing over my exposed stomach. My poor, destroyed dress had only a few buttons left and they were covering my bare crotch. His hand moved there, over the top of the material, pressing it against my mound.

  I murmured his name, but it came out as a muffled whimper.

  “You’re responsive. A little desperate?” he teased, his hand moving to my thighs, massaging me over the fabric. “Nothing but a vibrator at home to take care of you? Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you. But I’m going to get mine, too. You’re going to give me everything, Sasha, and you’re going to love it.”

  His hand finally found bare skin again at my knee. Slipping beneath the fabric, he trailed up along the inside of my thigh, dragging the fabric with his hand. I felt the hotness of his touch collide with the coolness of the air in The Beehive. The dichotomy had me shivering with desire, my muscles twitching with need.

  It felt like it was taking him ages, but he finally found my wet folds. He barked out a quick laugh. “Oh, you are wet. Filthy little thing, aren’t you?” His thumb stroked over my already wet and swollen outer lips, so close to where I needed him, but so far. I tried to move, attempting to get closer to him, but he just laughed again.

  His left hand was still playing with my exposed breast, twisting and tugging at my nipple, then squeezing my flesh again. But that right hand…oh, it was like fire, burning a trail slowly closer to my core, lingering along the edges of my womanly heat.

  I wanted to beg him to just touch me, but found only muffled whimpering escape me.

  After what could have been an eternity, his thumb slipped between my folds to find my aching opening. He plunged inside and I let out a relieved, stifled scream. “Tight,” he grunted. “Been a while?”

  Not that he cared. After finding my opening, he pulled his thumb out only to replace it with three fingers instantly. I felt stretched; it had been a while. He pumped them in and out of me, curling them now and again to massage my inner walls. My hips moved against him, my body trying to get even closer as it finally got what it needed.

  As his fingers probed my core, his thumb slipped up higher until he found my hardened little bundle of nerves. He flicked at it and my whole body jerked as I moaned. “Mmm, needy, aren’t you? I know you at least touch yourself here after the lights are turned out. While you’re huddled under your covers. Sliding your hands into your panties…or maybe you just sleep without them. You seem like the type. Just in case someone like me sneaks into your room at night to fuck you. You know that’s what I’m going to do, right? Fuck you.”

  I nodded, desperate for him to make good on his words.

  He continued to finger me, three inside my core and his thumb torturing my clit. It was driving me crazy and his words only egged me on, made me hotter and wetter.

  I was trembling as he touched me, his thumb moving faster and faster until I felt the pressure build. My body screamed, on the verge of release when—

  He stopped.

  That bastard stopped. My eyes, which had fallen closed in my ecstasy, snapped open and fixed on him. I’d have yelled at him if I hadn’t been gagged, and maybe I would have spit out my panties, if I didn’t see where his hand had moved to. He was now gripping his hardness, stroking his length.

  He moved to stand between my legs, shoving them open farther. I felt when he positioned his head at my entrance. Heat flooded me, my body tight with anticipation, and when he finally forced himself into my wet pussy, I was overcome with pleasure.

  He wasn’t gentle. Instead, he took what he wanted from me, forcing his length inside of me all at once. I felt full of him, his bulbous head hitting the very back of me, filling up every inch of me.

  “Fuck!” he growled, then he began to move.

  His left hand moved away from my breast to settle on one hip while his right gripped my other hip tightly. He used them like handles so that he could thrust into me hard and fast. He shoved himself inside of me over and over again, causing my body to shake and pulse with the force of his thrusts. My hips tried to move, to meet him, but he wasn’t having it. His large hands kept me firmly in place as he had his way with me.

  “You’re mine now,” he told me in a low, strained voice. He moved his hard length within me, sliding in and out as fast as he could. “Every fucking inch of you.”

  I didn’t protest. I wouldn’t have even if my mouth had been clear. I wanted this so badly that I’d have done anything at this point. Whatever he asked of me, I’d have given him willingly.

  He thrust into me over and over again. I watched as his muscles strained, his jaw clenched tightly as he approached his own orgasm. He reached up to my mouth and jerked my panties free, telling me, “You’re going to scream my name.”

  Then his hand moved down my body again, but instead of returning to my hips, he found my clit again. He began rubbing his thumb over it once more and I let out a loud groan of pleasure.

  “Fuck,” he said again, his thrusts becoming more erratic. But his thumb kept up its movements. He fondled and fucked me until I thought I was going to explode from the intensity of it.

  Finally, he lost himself. He pushed inside of me as far as he could go, then he trembled. And with a final flick of his thumb, I tipped over into my own orgasm, clenching tightly around his spasming length.

  And, just as he’d s
aid, I screamed his name.

  “MASON!”

  My eyes snapped open and I was staring at the ceiling again. My own hand was shoved into my panties, wetness coating my fingers. It took a long moment before I came down from my high and realized just what I’d been doing.

  I’d been dreaming of Mason Marsh. Of him dominating me. And my own hand had been touching my clit as I did so until I found the kind of intense release that I hadn’t had in years.

  “Jesus,” I muttered. And then I realized that I had screamed out Marsh’s name. Probably aloud, instead of just in the dream. “Shit.” I really hoped Nick didn’t hear.

  I debated getting out of bed to go and check on him, but I was so exhausted. All I wanted to do was roll over and go back to bed. Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I confirmed that it was only three in the morning.

  I groaned. I’d have to be up in only a couple of hours to get Nick ready for school. Which pretty much settled my little debate. I’d go back to bed, get a couple more hours of sleep, then act like nothing happened the next day. If Nick had heard me, he’d be standing in my doorway right now, asking what had happened.

  Glancing to make sure he wasn’t—he wasn’t—I was about to pull the covers up and roll over when the phone rang.

  “Crap,” I muttered, then I sighed. So much for going back to sleep.

  Kicking off what was left of the blanket covering my feet, I swung my legs over. The floor was freezing beneath my bare feet. “Damnit.” I hurried out of my room and into the hall where the phone was. I saw a bleary, sleepy eyed Nick standing in his doorway. It looked like I hadn’t woken him at least.

  “Go back to bed, baby,” I told him. “It’s just the phone.”

  He nodded once, then turned around to head back into his room just as I reached the phone and caught it on the fourth ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Norton?” asked an official sounding man.

  “It’s Ms. Norton,” I corrected automatically. I’d never been married, which was a blessing in disguise given what a piece of shit Nick’s father was.

  “This is the police. My apologies for calling at this hour, Ms. Norton,” said the officer politely. “But there’s been an incident.”

  My stomach twisted into cold knots. Incident? That couldn’t be good. “What’s happened?” My mind automatically ran through every horrible scenario it could. Who was the most important to me? Nick, of course, but I was suddenly relieved that he’d woken up and popped his head out of his room. At least I knew he was safe. But what about Steph?

  Oh, god, is she hurt?

  “Yes, ma’am. Are you the owner of The Beehive and convenience store?”

  My eyes shut themselves tightly. “Yes, I am. What happened?” My voice was firm and steady despite the panic that was slowly building inside my chest. This wasn’t good.

  “Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, ma’am, but it’s burning.”

  My eyes opened and for a long moment, all they did was stare at the wall. What? Burning? My mind tried to connect the dots, but it was like I was missing some of them. The picture wasn’t coming out the way it was supposed to. I couldn’t have heard him right.

  “W-who is this?” I found myself stuttering, trying to convince myself that this wasn’t really the police. It couldn’t be. “This isn’t funny. That’s my livelihood!”

  The man’s tone turned sympathetic. “Yes, I understand that, ma’am. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but—”

  “Who is this?” I demanded again, this time my voice rising to a near scream. Nick heard me and was up again, lingering at his doorway as he watched me. It was his presence that made me get a handle on this. My voice was still shaky, but I kept the volume a little more reasonable. “There has to be some sort of mistake.”

  “No mistake, ma’am,” said the officer. “The fire department is there now, but it doesn’t look good. You’d better come down to the station.”

  After that, he said a few more things and I must have responded, though I couldn’t say what I answered with. I felt like I was walking through a haze, my body running on autopilot while the rest of me quietly freaked out inside.

  At least it’s quiet, I thought idly. Nick was still lingering at the door, probably freaked out because I was freaked out.

  When I finally put the phone back in its cradle, I ended up just staring at the wall. The Beehive was on fire. It was burning. The fire department was there. But could they save it? Was there anything left to save? Was my whole world going up in smoke?

  “Fuck!” I yelled before remembering that my six-year-old son was standing right there. I winced, fought against what felt like an oncoming torrent of tears, and then put on a brave face. Bracing myself, I turned towards Nick. “I’m sorry, baby,” I told him in a sweet voice that felt fake. “Go back to bed, okay? I’ve got some work to do tonight, but Steph will be here for you in the morning.”

  Nick didn’t look happy with my words, probably sensing that something more was going on. After all, he was six, not stupid. Frowning, he took a step out of his room. “Why do you have to work? The store is closed at night.”

  Blinking in an effort to keep from crying, I made myself smile. “I just have some paperwork to do. It’s nothing you should be worrying about.”

  When he still looked scared and a little lost, I pulled up my mommy panties and walked over to him. I worked hard to try to look calm and natural, but I still felt stiff. Numb. When I reached him, I knelt down and took him by the shoulders. “Everything’s fine. I didn’t mean to get so upset. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  He thought about it, then asked, “You promise?”

  I nodded. “I promise. Now get back to bed.”

  He agreed and I pulled him close for a long, lingering hug. Whatever happened, I’d make it work. Everything would be okay. Pulling away, I walked him back to his bed and tucked the covers in around him. I leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his forehead. “I love you, Nicky. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “I love you, too, momma.”

  He turned over in his bed and settled back in to go to sleep. I watched him as rage swallowed me. Maybe I wouldn’t have made the connection so quickly if I hadn’t just been dreaming of the man, but somehow I knew that this fire wasn’t an accident.

  It was Mason.

  That motherfucker.

  Chapter Five

  When I was sure that Nick was asleep again, I headed back out into the hall and grabbed the phone. My cell was in the kitchen hiding in my purse, so the hall phone would do for now. With angry punches, I dialed Steph’s number. It rang several times and I thought maybe she wouldn’t answer—it was around three in the morning—but then I heard the click followed by a muffled, “Hello?”

  “Steph, it’s me,” I began, finding myself choking on my own words.

  I heard her yawn, then, “If this doesn’t involve a Chippendale’s dancer, free tequila, or a million dollars, I’m hanging up.”

  “The Beehive is burning.”

  That woke her up in a hurry. “What did you just say?”

  I swallowed and took a deep breath, doing my best to keep my shit together. “I said the store is burning. Firefighters are there now, but I don’t know how bad it is. Bad enough that the police called me at three in the damn morning and woke my son up.”

  I forced myself to stop and take a minute to regain my composure. I was pissed at the police, but it wasn’t their fault. They were just doing their job and I reasoned that it was better than waking up and going to the shop the next morning to find it nothing but ashes.

  “Jesus Christ,” Steph finally said. She sounded numb—in shock maybe. God knew I’d been there just a second ago. Or maybe I still was. “It’s burning?”

  I nodded, then remembered I was talking on the phone. Rubbing at the bridge of my nose, I leaned my forehead against the wall. “Yeah. Burning. Or maybe they’ve stopped it by now, I don’t know. The point is…”
For a second I couldn’t remember what the damn point was. “Nick. The point is I have to go down to the police station and talk to them. But Nick has school in the morning and—”

  “Say no more,” Steph interrupted. “I’ve got you. I’ll head over now. Bruce has been good lately. I’ll bet he’ll even start for me without an issue.”

  She was being forcibly chipper, which I appreciated. “When are you going to replace that piece of crap?” I teased. Bruce was her car, a beat up old junker that probably wouldn’t fetch a hundred dollars in scrap and was worth less than the monthly insurance on it. It was the main reason I gave Steph a ride every morning, other than carpool and saving the environment. Crap that suddenly seemed so utterly stupid given my situation.

  “Next paycheck,” she said, the chipper tone dropping from her voice. It was the same thing she always said, but suddenly reality wasn’t making that very funny anymore.