Bind (10 page)

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I was on my knees.” Yet she was picturing it. Lord help her. “Or naked. Or being beaten.”

“But you did go to the door to lock it. Then you went to the center of the room. And you waited for me. You trusted me. You responded when I asked if the way I pulled on your nipples was too much.”

His words made her burn for him.

“Did I take you further than you could go?”

“Of course not.”

“Further than you wanted? Or were you left craving more, imagining more?”

She looked away, severing herself from the power of his eyes.

“We talked in my office about the fact D/s relationships need tremendous amounts of trust. I outlined what I’m willing to do for you to feel safe, but it goes two ways. You will need to be scrupulously honest with me. More importantly, Lara, the only way we can have a successful relationship is if you’re honest with yourself.” After pausing for a moment, he added, “That can be the most difficult obstacle.”

His words, so accurate, gave her a chill. She’d been so busy fighting herself and her responses that she’d buried honesty several layers deep. What he’d done to her, with her, had made her panties damp. She’d been aroused even though she was apprehensive.

“Curiosity is part of the reason you’re here,” he said. The words were a statement, not a question.

“And nervousness about what you’d demand is something that almost kept me away.”

“Fair enough. Ask me the dozens of questions that are going through your mind. Ask how I’d punish you.”

“Does that have to be part of it?”

“For me, yes. But here’s the important part. Any relationship we enter into will have rules. I will follow them as well.”

“The idea that you would even consider punishing me is a deal-breaker.”

“Is it? Let’s consider the crime. Do you remember?”

She did. In detail. “You told me to keep my hands behind my back, and I didn’t.”

“And on a scale of one to ten, where would that fall as a real infraction?”

“One. You weren’t angry, at least you didn’t seem to be.”

“So, what kind of punishment do you think fits with what you did?”

“A spanking? And if you remember, I’ve had two and hated them.”

“I remember everything you’ve said to me.”

With each word, he drew her more under his spell.

“And you haven’t had a spanking from me. Or it could be that I’d tie your hands to my bedposts and keep them there as I licked and sucked your pussy.”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

“Would you hate that?” Before she could answer, he continued, “You have a very narrow definition of punishment. I like to be a bit more creative than that. And I promise you, Lara, you’ll have to ask for it.”

She shivered.

“Let me show you the rest of the loft.”

He’d intentionally changed the subject, she was sure, just to keep her guessing. “I haven’t said whether I agree to…” She couldn’t find the right word. “This whole thing.”

“Just giving you more information to help make your decision.” He stood.

Slowly, she did, too, then she followed him down a hallway.

“Workout room,” he said, opening the first door.

“Nice,” she approved. He had a couple of pieces of cardio equipment, some free weights and a giant television along with a stereo and a fridge. The area was small, but organized well.

“You’re free to use it whenever.”

“I never said—”

“I know. This way.” He opened a door to reveal his office. “There’s room for a second desk.”

Despite herself and without invitation, she entered. He had exposed brickwork, as she’d expected. But this place reflected the private Connor Donovan.

His college degree was framed and hung on a wall. At an angle was his college pennant. He had shelves that were filled with memorabilia—a baseball, an autographed football, a conch shell.

Another shelf was filled with pictures in all different sizes. Frames were crafted from every possible material…metal, glossy wood, plastic. Some were painted, others were ornate.

One photograph showed him in college graduation garb, flanked by his parents. Another showed him on horseback, wearing denim and a straw cowboy hat. There was a picture of a groundbreaking. He was holding a ceremonial silver-colored shovel. Standing near him was an older gentleman and two other men. His brothers, if she wasn’t mistaken. “This is your grandfather, right?” she asked, pointing. “Erin calls him the Colonel.”

“We all do.”

“Rather formal.”

“You’ve never met him?”

“No. I’ve met your mom, but no one else. I’m guessing this one is Cade, right? Lives on the ranch in west Texas?”

He nodded.

“And Nathan?” The brothers were almost equal in height and they shared a similar, strong set to their jaws. Cade was the largest, and Nathan was the only one smiling. They all radiated strength and the aura that came with being born into power.

Behind several frames, she saw a snapshot of him with Erin. “May I?”

“Of course.”

Lara picked it up.

They were on vacation, if their outfits were anything to go by. Erin was dressed in a floral sarong. He wore shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt and a jauntily tilted sombrero. Rather than looking at the camera, he and Erin were facing each other and both had big, goofy smiles. She had never seen this side of him, and it made him more real, less scary. Though trusting that could be dangerous for her, she realized. “Were you in Mexico?” Lara guessed.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Cozumel. It was a port of call while on a family cruise.”

“You look happy.”

“I was.” He was silent for a moment. “I didn’t know it would be the last family trip we’d ever take. My father died months afterward.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like.” Erin had said that Connor was taking life too seriously, that he’d become a hard-ass in recent years. The sight of a more carefree Connor melted her heart a little. It was easier to think of him as a formidable opponent, a man who was uncompromising and demanding.

“Some things are difficult to recover from. So now I try even harder to appreciate all of life.”

She felt a bit humbled that he’d allowed her a glimpse into his private hell.

He returned the picture to its rightful spot. “I’ll make room for you,” he said. “In here, on the shelves. I don’t want you feeling as if it’s just my space.”

“You’re not playing fair,” she protested.

“I play to win.”

He continued the tour, showing her the master suite. A large bed with a padded bench at the end dominated the room. He had nightstands, but no television, books or even a clock.

“Your room is for sleeping.”

“Among other things.”

Like he’d intimated earlier, the headboard did have posts. She just wasn’t sure if he’d been serious about wanting to attach her to them. The idea sent a chill through her.

“I don’t say things unless I mean them.”

“Is mind reading one of your many talents?”

“No. Your eyes tell me everything I want to know.”

He continued the tour by opening the door to the closet. His clothing and shoes filled less than half of the available space. She wondered if he’d made room for her today or if he always kept his belongings confined to one area. It could be the latter, if the rest of his loft was anything to judge by.

The master bathroom had a soaker tub. She was afraid she might drool.

“Maybe I should have mentioned that at the beginning,” he said.

“If it came with wine service…”

“It could.”

“And the foot rub…?”

“It could.”

“You really do fight to win.”

At that, he grinned.

She looked up at Connor and knew she was doomed. Attraction zipped through her, much like it had earlier this afternoon when he’d told her to lock the door and go to the middle of his office. No matter how nervous he made her, she wanted what he offered.

“Now you have a big choice.”

“Oh?”

“We can explore the last room.”

“What’s in the last room?”

“It was a bonus space, mostly used for storage. But I’ve converted it to a playroom of sorts.”

Her blood became a bit sluggish. “I assume you’re not talking about board games.”

“You’re correct.”

“And the second choice?” Her voice sounded tremulous even though she was trying to pretend she was unaffected by him. Truth was, she was dizzy with desire.

“You can lift up your skirt and bend over the bench at the end of my bed and beg for your punishment.”

Her knees went weak. “I don’t suppose ‘none of the above’ is a choice?”

“As I told you, you always have a choice. I’m not a beast.”

Shocking herself, she then said, “And what if I say
all
of the above?”

He arched one eyebrow. “I’d say which order do you prefer?”

“Um, the playroom,” she suggested.

“And I’d respond that the correct answer is, whichever you prefer, Sir.”

She swallowed deeply. “That means…”

“In future it will mean additional punishment. Tonight, we’ll just consider that I’m instructing you about my expectations.” He paused. “Would you like to answer the question again?”

“Whichever you prefer, Sir.”

“You couldn’t be more perfect. Come here.”

She took a step, closing the distance between them.

Each time she interacted with him, she found him more compelling, more dangerous. Logic should dictate that familiarity would make her feel more certain, but it had the opposite effect.

“You look beautiful,” he told her.

As he focused on her, his gray eyes seemed darker in color than they had appeared earlier.

With his large palms, he framed her face. She parted her lips slightly, silently praying he’d move in for a kiss.

He brushed back strands of hair that were curled around her cheekbones, and she reached up to place her hands on his wrists.

“Behind your back,” he said.

“Is that a rule?”

“Not always. Only if you’re told.”

“I like to touch.”

“I like to be obeyed,” he countered.

Reluctantly, she put her hands behind her.

His kiss started slowly, softly.

She closed her eyes and swayed toward him. He offered his body as support, and his strength flowed into her.

Though she ached to run her fingers through his hair, she took pleasure from doing as he said. Her body became more pliant as she stopped fighting herself.

He deepened the kiss, forcing her lips apart, tasting, touching, demanding. She was helpless. The combination of his determination and masculine power silenced her deepest objections. She wanted this man.

Though he only touched her face, her nipples hardened.

He ended the kiss before she was ready, but the way he drew his eyebrows together kept her silent. He stared at her intently, as if seeking an answer to a question so deep that he didn’t know how to ask it.

Before she could possibly be prepared, he moved in again, this time with force, demanding her compliance.

She was lost. She wanted it. Him.

Keeping her hands in place took every bit of her mental energy. Physical sensation bombarded her, and she ached to participate.

When her breathing was erratic and her body responsive, he eased back.

“I could kiss you all night, and it wouldn’t be enough.”

“For me, either,” she confessed.

He lowered his hands. “You pleased me.”

The words were heady, and she exhaled an unsteady breath.

“You can put your hands at your sides. I’ll show you the playroom.”

She’d never admit that she was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t suggested she bend over the bench.

He moved past her, and she followed.

In the bedroom, he stopped near the foot of the bed, and said, “But first, I want to see you on the bench.”

Her heart skidded to a halt.

“What do you say?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Damn.”

The approval in his tone made excitement trip through her.

“You remember that we talked about safe words?”

She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Yes.”

“Unless there are words you want to use, we can use red and yellow. Red for stop immediately, yellow for slow down, we need to talk, I’m scared, or to let me know you need something.”

“That works for me.”

“Tell me what we’re going to do,” he said.

“Ah…” She could hardly make herself use the words. “You’re going to punish me in some way for not keeping my hands behind my back earlier this afternoon.”

He nodded. “I want you to face the bed and hold onto the bench. I expect you to stay in place. Tell me you understand.”

She nodded.

Earlier today, she’d realized that having him order her around was a mind fuck. He’d agreed. Lara realized that he knew what he was doing, what to say, how to act. This was part of the whole seduction, she realized, the part that made BDSM relationships different. Her previous boyfriend had just dragged her across his lap and started wailing on her buttocks. There’d been no discussion, no exquisite anticipation or demands for compliance. In contrast, everything Connor did heightened her arousal.

Unhurriedly, she got into place and he drew up her dress.

She bit her lower lip.

“Your ass was made for a beating, Lara,” he said as he outlined the top part of her panties. “I’m going to take these off.”

She closed her eyes.

He drew her underwear down then tossed them on top of the bed. “Gorgeous. Now spread your legs as far as you can and turn your toes inward.”

Lara found it impossible to breathe.

“So lovely.”

He rubbed her buttocks, light, then quick. Abruptly, he stopped.

She was anticipating that he’d strike her then, but he didn’t. Instead, he slid a finger back and forth against her clit. Shocked, she drew her legs together.

“Stay in position,” he warned.

He’d moistened his finger before touching her, and since she was already a little damp, it only took a few seconds for her to become slick.

She began to sway in response to his touch. It’d been a long time since she’d had sex and his touch aroused her quickly.