Author: Roni Loren
Her skin heated as if her blood had been turned to simmer, a slow rolling warmth starting at her chest and radiating outward. “Thank you, sir.”
“Now, how do you think I should have you apologize?”
She dropped her focus to the floorboards, listening to the steady beat of her heart. The tips of his boots came into view. “I’ll do whatever you’d like me to.”
“Present your back to me, arms behind you.”
She sat back on her legs and then hinged forward, chest to thighs. Her face ended up hovering inches above his boot. She’d joked with him early on that she’d never kiss a man’s shoe—had scoffed at the idea. But as she stared at it in front of her now, she was suddenly mesmerized by the symbol of all that represented this man—tough, unpretentious, and scuffed in a way that made it more beautiful. And as if the desire had always been there, waiting until she was ready to accept it, she knew the perfect way to apologize. She lowered her head and pressed her lips to the warm leather.
For once, the sharp intake of breath wasn’t her own. She closed her eyes, his approval falling over her like soft rain. She’d pleased him. And even if she still didn’t fully understand why that affected her so deeply, she felt the stir inside her, the rightness. They both stayed there in a moment that seemed to stretch as wide as the land surrounding the cabin.
Finally, he shifted and she raised her head. His gaze hit her like a branding iron, a permanent sear to her system. He captured her face in his hands. “I’m going to take such good care of you, sweet Charlotte. I won’t let a day pass where I don’t show you how much you mean to me or how much I value the gift of your trust.”
His words moved over her like soft strokes, his stripped-to-the-studs declaration smoothing any sharp places left inside her. She smiled, blinking through the hazy shield of unshed tears. “Just love me, Grant.”
“I already do.” He claimed her mouth, a slow languid dance, and she could feel everything in that kiss. The years of loss he’d been through, the ache for her in the moment, and the promise of all that was to come.
When he broke away from the kiss, there was fire in his eyes, a predatory flash. A ripple of delicious fear skated over her nerve endings. She loved his sweetness, the tender way he could make her melt. But that darkness that lay in wait for times like these fed something deep and primal inside her. She craved his control, his marks, the pain she knew would push her up and over the edge to pleasure.
She’d sensed him holding back with her since she’d moved in, as if he was afraid to really let her see the extent of that side of him. But the way he was looking at her now was anything but tentative.
“On your feet, Charlotte.”
She climbed to a stand, and he grabbed her by the back of the neck, nudging her forward. “Kissing my boot is very much appreciated, but it’s not going to get you out of what I have planned for you. Walk.”
He led her into the bedroom and released his grip. “Strip the bed of all but the bottom sheet, then lie on your stomach.”
“Yes, sir.” She did as she was told, hurrying to yank the duvet and blankets from the bed and dumping them into a corner. Then she climbed onto the bed and lay down.
His hands were on her in an instant, wrapping rope around her wrists and ankles, stretching her into a facedown X position on the bed and knotting the rope at the far corners of the headboard and footboard. She tried to wriggle, testing the slack, but she was pressed tight to the bed with no give. A little wave of panic shimmered over her. He’d never bound her to where she couldn’t move at all.
“Boy, you look pretty like this,” Grant said, stalking around the bed and stepping out of her line of sight. She strained her ears, trying to determine exactly where he was but still flinched when he finally touched her. His palm cupped her sex from behind, spreading her and painting her with her own juices. “All spread and slick for me. Very nice.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, the ache for him overtaking any lingering anxiety over her helpless position. She knew if he’d taken the time to tie her, he wasn’t going to rush things. The thought was simultaneously enticing and maddening. He dipped his fingers inside her and grazed his thumb over her clit. Yes. She pressed her hips downward, seeking more pressure, but he moved his hand away.
“I’m thinking fair punishment is that you wait for me as long as I had to wait for you today. Which by my estimation was…an hour and ten minutes.”
Oh, shit.
An hour of teasing? She wouldn’t make it. She’d dissolve into desperation if he made her hold off that long. “Please. I’m so sorry, sir.”
He scoffed. “I’m sure you are…now. Which, by the way, is an hour and eleven minutes too late.”
“I’m—”
“Hush.”
The ominous sound of him unzipping his “goody” bag had her breath quickening and her pulse hopping into her throat. Of course, he’d placed his stuff far out of her view so she had no idea what his evil plan may be. She turned her head, the one movement she could manage, but all she could see was his back reflected in the mirror over the dresser as he hunched over his bag.
He turned around, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Worried, love?”
“Maybe.”
His grin bordered on sinister. “Smart girl.”
The bed dipped as he climbed behind her, making the sheet brush against her already sensitized skin. He placed a hand on her hip first and then slid it down her thigh. “Hold still.”
“Yes, sir.” As if she had a choice.
Cool silicon nudged her sex, then slid between her and the bed, pressing against her clit. He flipped on the switch, and the powerful hum of the vibrator filled the space.
“Oh, God, yes,” she murmured, sensation spreading from her center outward. Blessed relief.
But he wasn’t done with her. Without giving her a chance to adjust to the vibrator he slid something thick and flexible inside her channel—a dildo. Whoa. She arched but had nowhere to go, no escape from the rush of pleasure. Her body automatically tensed, trying to stave off the orgasm dancing at her nerve endings. She’d been revved up since she’d pulled into the driveway, and her body wasn’t in the mood for patience.
Grant traced the crack of her ass with his fingertip, the simple move sending a thread of need curling up her spine. “Denial can be a fun game, Charlotte. Forcing you to hold back for an hour could prove quite tortuous.”
He smoothed cool gel over her back entrance, tucking a finger inside and sending her control system into near-meltdown stage. She pressed her face into the bed, the mattress absorbing her whimper, her pleas for mercy. Hold on, hold on…
“But the opposite can be fun, too,” Grant said, his voice soft, lulling, and far too wicked to be trusted. He slipped his finger out of her and replaced it with what she knew had to be a plug, nudging it past her entrance and filling her to capacity.
“Oh, God.” She raised her head, her neck arching, and sweat instantly slicked her body as her temperature seemed to increase tenfold. How could he expect her to hold anything back while being stimulated like this? The vibrator pulsed against her clit slow-slow-fast, slow-slow-fast, causing her muscles to clench around the dual invasions inside her. The sensation was overwhelming and relentless. Blissful torture. Even when she tried to shift her hips, there was no escaping the sure stroke of the vibe. Her fists clenched.
“Grant,” she begged. “Please, I can’t…”
“Shh…” He dipped his tongue into the dimples at the base of her spine, circling them with teasing strokes that somehow made her nipples tingle against the sheets. “I don’t expect you to, sweet Charlotte. You can come as many times as you’d like.”
“I can?”
But before she could even process what that meant, his teeth sunk into her ass cheek and it was like pulling the pin in a grenade. Her body rumbled against the mattress and sensation exploded through her, splintering her in all directions. Her muscles contracted around the foreign objects inside her, begging, needy. Her body wanted to writhe, to thrash, but the ropes bit into her, holding her taut.
“That’s right, baby. Fight through it. You make the sexiest fucking noises. I could spend all night listening to you, watching you.”
The slippery sound of lube against skin mixed in with her own moans, and she realized Grant was pleasuring himself behind her. Long, heavy strokes mixed with panted breaths. The image only served to push her orgasm higher, the idea of his big, firm hand sliding along his cock while she lay bound beneath him was one of the most erotic she could imagine.
“Ah, God,” Grant groaned, the slippery sound of his hand getting faster, more urgent. “Give me another one, Charlotte. Come with me.”
The vibrator shifted to the exact right spot and a second wave of bliss knocked the breath from her. A grinding scream left her throat, and Grant’s moan joined hers. She trembled with the sharp intensity of the orgasm, this one almost unbearable in its power. “Grant!”
Hot spurts of his release landed on her back, marking her, owning her. She panted her way through the death throes of her orgasm as his seed dripped down her sides in a slow, sensual slide.
She sagged into the mattress, the vibrator still dancing against her oversensitive clit.
“So gorgeous, baby. I almost regret not setting up a camera and catching how perfect you look right now on film. But I’m not done with you yet.” The mattress shifted and a wet towel touched her back as Grant cleaned her off.
Then the bed dipped again as Grant got up, and she waited for him to come around and remove the vibrator and dildos, but as seconds slipped, anxiety started to rise in her. “Grant?”
“Yes?” he said, the smile in his voice clear.
“The vibrator. I can’t take…”
Then pain striped her back, slicing off the end of her sentence like a sharp knife. She cried out in surprise.
“We’ve still got a while to go. This will take your mind off the vibrator.” The strips of leather hit the flesh of her backside, the sting raining down on her and crackling outward.
“Ah, Jesus.” She gritted her teeth, the combination of pain coalescing with the continued stimulation and the remnants of her orgasm. She turned her head, catching sight of the cat-o’-nine-tails sailing through the air again. She braced. Smack.
She bit her lip, choking down another yelp. He’d never used that on her before, but son of a bitch, did it have a bite.
“Breathe through it, love,” he said, his voice soothing though not apologetic. “Wait for it…”
He struck her across the back of her thighs, causing her body to shift hard against the vibrator. Oh.
Another lash.
Her skin was tingling, her muscles drawing tight, tighter.
Another.
The pain began to change, morph, drawing those lovely chemicals into her blood system, making her thoughts go fuzzy.
And another.
Wait for it, wait for it… His words drifted like a mantra in her head. So close…
He whipped a final time. Hard.
And there it was. Potent and without mercy, orgasm dragged her under, the agony and ecstasy mixing into that perfect cocktail to send her flying.
Tears stung her eyes as she cried out, shouted, calling Grant’s name like a plea to God. For less, for more, she wasn’t sure. But she no longer had control over the sounds she made or her body’s reaction. As soon as she thought she was slipping from the peak, he’d rev her up again. Touching her, tasting her, knowing just what to do. All the while talking to her, praising her, loving her.
By the end of her hour, her mind had succumbed, the physical overtaking all executive functioning. He’d pulled so much from her, she wasn’t sure she could form words or even move if she wasn’t tied down. She wet her dry lips, her voice barely a whisper. “Grant, please.”
