Bound With Pearls (6 page)

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Authors: Sidney Bristol

Tags: #Erotica

BOOK: Bound With Pearls
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He took the two glasses of juice and put them on the nightstand with the food. The syrup followed, leaving her empty-handed and awkward all over again.

“Hands up.”

He tossed the rope on the bed. Her gaze followed the red cords. Did he mean to tie her to the bed? If she weren’t being punished, she’d be excited.

Lifting her hands, she bit her lip to keep her explanations to herself as he whisked the shirt over her head. She’d done something wrong and the punishment was deserved. She curled her arms around herself and found a spot on the wall to focus on instead of meeting his gaze.

He curled his hands around her hips, his fingers over the lace lining her panties. Her heart raced, unsure of what would happen next. His breath fanned over her neck and his chest bumped her arms.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

Her gaze slid to his eyes, warm despite their darkness. He brushed a kiss over her lips and sank to the floor. Surprised, she tried to step back but he held her in place.

“These have got to go,” he muttered. Sliding his fingers under the band, he tugged her underwear down, slowing the fabric’s fall with his hands, gliding his palms over her legs.

Cupping her ass, he brought her mound to his face. He kissed her thigh and pulled it over his shoulder. She had to hold on to his shoulders to keep her balance.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a rush.

He smirked. “Anything I want.”

She gulped and her vision hazed. His breath was hot on her core. She dug her fingers into his hair as his mouth closed over her clit. Heat flooded her pussy as his tongue flicked the sensitive nub of flesh repeatedly.

As unexpectedly as he began, he stopped. He helped her to stand on her own two feet but his gaze was as shuttered as before. Confused, she bit her lip and tried not to rub her thighs together.

He stood and plucked the pencil from her hair. “Lie on the bed. On your back.”

Her stomach was tied in knots but she did as she was told. The sheets were cold, as if they’d never lain together. Her nipples tightened and gooseflesh raced down her arms and legs.

Daniel picked up one length of rope and tied a loose loop around her wrist. She could easily slip out of the binding. It wasn’t tight at all. She opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to get in trouble for correcting him on top of everything else. Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax.

He repeated the process at her ankles and other wrist, attaching the ends to the bedposts. Though the rope was taut enough to restrain her movements, she could still slide free.

“Sir?” Her voice was a squeak.

“Hm?” He sat on the edge of the bed, examining her.

“The restraints.” She wet her lips, a hard task when her mouth was dry. “They’re not very tight.”

He scowled, the dark slashes of his brows drawing down into a hard line. His hair stuck up in several directions and stubble peppered his jaw. The bed dipped as he reclined next to her and propped his head on his fist. “I know that.”

He splayed his hand over her stomach. She couldn’t help but inhale deeply at his touch. His hand skated over her skin to cup her breast. She braced herself, but his hold was gentle.

“The ropes aren’t tight because I don’t want to bruise you unintentionally like this ever again. Until I learn how much you can handle, you have to help me.” He gave her breast a soft squeeze before leaving her altogether.

Rolling to the side of the bed, he picked up the plate of food and twisted to face her. Carefully, he set the plate below her breasts, so close that when she exhaled she could feel the brush of pancakes.

“I need a straw,” he grumbled. “Be right back.”

She wasn’t alone long before he returned, lifting one of the glasses of juice to her with a bendable straw. She sipped the sweet citrus mix, letting the flavors of mango and tangerine play over her palate.

When she was finished, he put the cup on the nightstand and grabbed the utensils and syrup. Sitting cross-legged next to her, he made a little picnic, spreading a paper towel over the sheet in front of him and setting the other things on it. She tried not to stare at his cock, but it was right there, mostly erect and pointed straight at her. She was naked, he was naked and they were eating breakfast when she just wanted to have sex.

“Do you usually cook breakfast?” He uncapped the syrup and drizzled it over the pancakes.

“Not really.” The plate was still cool against her. She sucked in a breath as syrup spilled over the side and puddled in the hollow between her breasts.

“Something wrong?” His tone was casual yet the lines on his face were tense. She couldn’t get a feel for his mood. She expected anger but his cock said he was aroused.

“The syrup spilled a little.”

His lips pulled up into a smile. “Oopsie,” he said, not the least bit repentant. Sliding the plate lower on her abdomen, he bent and licked away the sticky liquid. “There.” He moved the plate back into position. Picking up the fork and knife, he attacked the stack of pancakes. The sensation of the knife sliding across the surface through the plate made her want to squirm. Instead, she gripped the ropes and held tight.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No.”

“Here.” He offered her a bite of fluffy pancake with a glistening layer of syrup.

She ate what he offered, swallowing the pancakes without tasting them. The other shoe was going to drop.

“These are good,” he said around a mouthful of food. “What did I do to merit a special breakfast?”

Her mouth dried up. “I thought you would want something to eat.” She hated the way her voice went up an octave at the end of her sentence, pinning an unspoken question mark on a statement.

He sighed and gave her a flat stare.

“I wanted to do something,” she added. Heat rose up her throat as the damn blush gripped her cheeks. “For you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched anything.”

He pressed his lips to hers. She could taste the syrup on his lips and tongue when he pushed into her mouth. As quickly as the kiss began, he pulled away, scooping up some of the eggs and offering them to her.

“You aren’t in trouble.”

She hurriedly chewed and swallowed. “I’m not?”

He chuckled. “Nope.” One side of his mouth kicked up in a lopsided smile, giving him a boyish look.

“Then, why…” Her voice trailed off as he pressed another bite of pancake to her lips.

“Why did I tie you up?” He filled in for her. “Because I like you tied down and at my mercy.”

“Oh.” She struggled to reorient herself. “Can I have more juice? Please, Sir.”

“Sure thing.” He grabbed her glass and offered her the straw. “I was thinking…”

“Yes?” she asked when he didn’t finish.

He set the glass on the bed, his fingers playing over the rim. “Would you want to see me again?”

Her heart fluttered up into her throat while her stomach dropped through the bed. “See you again? At the club, or…?”

One shoulder lifted. “Wherever.”

“Yeah,” she said, fingers twining around the ropes.

“Good. I was going to keep you tied up until you said yes. Now I’ll just keep you tied up until I’m done with you.”

Her pussy clenched. She wanted him in her, to be free to touch him.

“Can I ask you one thing?” As besotted as she was, Christine needed to keep some of her wits about her.

“Go ahead.” He shoveled food in, tapping the fork against the plate as he chewed.

“Are you seeing anyone? Or did you just get out of a relationship or something?”

He paused, head tilted to the side. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, it’s just your place. It’s not really what I would have expected.” She bit her lip.

“Oh.” He tilted his head back and laughed. “Honestly, I don’t even think about it anymore.” He stabbed a square of pancake and put it to her lips. “I do all of my business out of my home, so I hired a decorator, and this is what I got. No girlfriends or relationship for a while now. Satisfied?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good, eat.”

He didn’t allow her time to talk, plying her with almost as much food as he ate. They didn’t eat everything, she’d gone overboard with it to begin with. The plate, syrup and utensils went on the bedside table and he unhooked her hands and feet from the ropes.

He settled on top of her, his weight pushing her down into the mattress. He wove their fingers together, bracketing her head with their arms. He’d discarded the stern face at last and she could read him. Smiling, he looked younger, not as authoritative. At some point she’d gone from dealing with Daniel the Dom, to Daniel the man. It birthed a little hope in her chest, maybe there was more.

“I made a mess.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “You’re covered in syrup.”

She wiggled against him, her stomach sticking and sliding against his in a way that made her skin crawl in a not so pleasant way. “What are you going to do about that?”

“Let you take the first shower.”

“You don’t want to shower with me?” She nibbled her lip. She was naked, he was naked and they were both horny. It was easy math that wasn’t adding up.

“You don’t always get what you want, Chris.” He pushed up and rolled away from her. She watched him stand next to the bed, his erect cock an obvious calling card. Casually, he cupped himself. “Besides, you said no sex.”

Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. She had a sinking feeling she wouldn’t be able to live her no-sex limit down.

* * * * *

 

Restless, Christine pushed up from the couch. Her body hummed with unfulfilled desire. Daniel had played her body like an instrument, rising dramatically with orgasms that had been more punishing than satisfying. Her body responded to him on a basic level and he hadn’t taken advantage.

Her mantra since he’d delivered her safely to her car Saturday morning had been, “It’s not you. It’s the limit.”

Despite telling her he wanted to see her again they hadn’t set a date. And it wasn’t even until she’d arrived home when she realized she didn’t know if he wanted a play date, a dinner date or something else. It was possible she was reading far too much into his request than what there was. They didn’t have a relationship, he wasn’t her Master. She also hadn’t made him court her. Had he asked her to go on a date with him because he wanted to have sex with her?

She’d focused all of her energy since then into running errands and getting ready for the coming workweek, and now she had nothing else to do. Pacing the length of her kitchen, she turned the evening she’d spent with Daniel over and over again in her head. She couldn’t blame anyone but herself for how things had turned out, and considering how it could have gone, it had been good.

A hell of a lot better than good, actually. When was the last time a man had her so wrapped up in the thought of him she couldn’t focus?

Still, she had upheld her part of the bargain.

Retrieving her phone from her purse, she dialed her sister, for once not feeling any dread about speaking with Lucy. She’d get her mother’s pearls back and that was what her goal had been all along.

“Hello?”

“Lucy, it’s Chris.”

“Oh.” She could hear the confusion in her sister’s voice. No doubt Lucy was trying to remember what she’d wanted from her and if she needed to wheedle. “Hi.”

“Hey. I took care of the Daniel situation for you.”

“Oh.” The surprise grated on her nerves. Had her sister expected her to flake? “That’s great, Chris, thanks.”

“Yeah, so when can I come by and get the pearls?”

She was ready for the pause, the one that meant Lucy was scrambling to think of something to say. It was never a good sign but she was used to it by now. Sadly, it would have surprised her if Lucy had given the pearls up without stalling.

“Well, the thing is Nate and I are out of town. Do you think it can wait a few days? Or even until the weekend? It’ll be nuts when I get back.”

Irritated at her sister and herself, she folded one arm around her middle and tried to keep her voice pleasant. “You’re going out of town now? It’s Sunday. Anyway, it’s a necklace, Lucy, not the kitchen stove. I’ll be in and out.”

“Christine, those pearls are sentimental.” Lucy was laying on the dramatics. If her sister were in front of her now, she’d imagine Lucy with her hand to her heart and a theatrical expression on her face. “I can’t just hand them over. I need time to say goodbye.”

She muffled her snort. Her sister didn’t care about the pearls. She probably didn’t remember where they were.

“Fine. I’ll come over Friday and get them.”

“Great! I’ve got to run. Talk to you Friday!”

The line went dead before she could interject. Sighing, she set the phone on the coffee table and pulled her to-do list closer. Usually having all of the lines crossed off was a good thing but not now. The only thing left to do was all the cleaning she’d put off. But anything to keep from circling the phone was better than nothing.

Deciding to tackle the least appealing task first, she headed for the bathroom and pulled out a host of cleaning products from under the sink.

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