Let Us Eat Cake (8 page)
He sat me down in the swing.
“Give me your wrists,” he ordered.
I did as he’d said. His hands were warm and I liked the sight of mine in them.
“Do you like satin?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to be tied with it?”
Oh boy. Now or never.
I was nervous, but excited beyond words. I could barely answer.
“Yes,” I managed. My mouth felt dry.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a length of dark purple shiny rope. I gulped. This was it.
“Don’t be nervous.”
I remembered what he had told me about how I would always be in control and it allowed me to surrender to his orders. “Yes, Master.”
“You’re a good little slut. I really liked coming in your sweet pussy, but I’m not done with you yet.”
He took my wrists and bound them together. Though they were separated by an inch of rope that lay coiled between them, the tying rendered movement impossible. I had fantasized about this, but watching the scenario unfold before me was surreal. Then Jeff attached my tied wrists to a link chain. As he pulled on one end, he hoisted my wrists into the air. I gasped.
“You’re stuck now,” he said. “Try to get away.”
I wriggled. “I can’t.”
“You’re mine. Your tits belong to me now. So does your orgasm.”
Silently I begged his emerald eyes for mercy, but his expression told me he had plans.
From a cabinet, he produced a paddle. I squirmed in my seat at the mere sight of it. He came up to me, holding the black thing in his hand.
“Kiss it.”
I did. The leathery scent turned me on in a way I never would have imagined. I realized it was everywhere in the room—on the swing, in the opened box of ties and right in front of my lips.
“I can tell from your nipples that you’re turned on.”
“More than ever, Master.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
Well, since he asked…
“I want to come.”
“Patience!” he yelled. Then he struck my nipples with the paddle. There was an immediate sting, followed by a hot burning sensation. I wriggled in my seat, giving myself over to him.
He tapped each nipple again, this time with less pressure. The rhythmic repetition of the paddling shot right through my body to my clit. If his cock had been inside me, if I’d been on top of him like before, I would be coming. I moaned.
“You’re dripping wet,” he said.
Jeff lay down his paddle on the credenza adjacent to the swing. He approached me with nothing but his hands this time, cupping my breasts in his palms.
“Rachel Perkins, you are so sexy,” he said.
He pulled on the chain again, and the tug lifted me right out of the swing seat to a standing position. My arms tingled from the confinement as I watched Jeff tie the swing to a pole. I guessed we wouldn’t need it anymore.
Standing, I was about a head shorter than Jeff, though it felt as though he towered over me because of his control of the scene. He took my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed a lot harder than anyone had ever done. I yelped in pain, but loved every second of it.
His cock was hard again. It sprang to attention as I writhed in my place.
“Open yourself to me.”
I spread my feet apart slightly, but my possible range of movement was limited.
“Up you go,” he said, lifting my thigh up to his waist. I jumped off the ground and he caught me. I wrapped my legs around his middle as I hung suspended from the top of the swing’s structure.
“That’s my girl,” Jeff said. “Let me fuck your pussy once more.”
He reached into the side table drawer and pulled out another condom. With his teeth, he ripped the square package open and before I knew it, he was ready. I moaned and tossed my head back, thereby lengthening my torso to give him space to enter me. Slowly his cock slid into me once more. My buttocks cradled in his palms, he fucked me steadily. He reached down, took my nipple in his mouth, and that was it. I moaned so loud I knew his neighbors could hear.
“That’s it,” he said. “Come hard for me.”
Just as he said the words, I let go completely. My Kegel muscles tightened and released around his girth.
“Oh, baby. You’re too much,” he said. “I’m coming again.”
Deep inside, I felt the convulsions of his ejaculate. He filled me again with warmth, just as I clenched onto him. He cradled me in his arms and held me tight against his chest. With the flick of a lever, he released my hands. My wrists were still bound together, but he held me. Jeff carried me back to his bed and laid me down.
I was limp on the bed, my energy spent. He lay down next to me and untied my wrists.
“Wow,” I said.
“Shhh.”
He touched my face very delicately, like he was inspecting every aspect of me. He brushed an unruly lock of hair from my forehead and kissed me deeply.
* * * *
I woke up to find myself in an oversized V-neck shirt, beneath his covers. The sun poured in through Jeff’s bedroom window and I sat up in bed, propping his pillow up behind my back so I could lean on the headboard. He opened the door and came in with two cups of coffee.
“Good morning,” he said.
“You too.” I smiled, then fixed my hair.
“You’re beautiful in the morning,” he said.
Part of me wanted to hide. Another part knew that I was forever done with hiding. Jeff had seen me. He sat down beside me and took my hand. He held it to his lips. It was a sight I was getting used to and I liked that very much. I wanted him to always do this.
“Would you like cake with your coffee or after?” he asked with a naughty look.
“Cake? Now?”
I considered his rather unorthodox breakfast meal suggestion, but then I realized that cake had brought us together. I’d never look at that particular dessert in quite the same way ever again.
“Perfect,” I answered, smiling widely. “Let us eat cake.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Love Uninhibited
Destiny Moon
Excerpt
Chapter One
When I first saw Hunter, I thought he was the cutest. His face put me at ease. It wouldn’t be right to call him ruggedly handsome like Pierce Brosnan or anything, but I’d never know how to talk to a guy like that anyway. I could barely talk to Hunter, who was a slightly balding, hairy guy with a tendency to wear T-shirts with logos or sayings like ‘Dessert is Cheaper than Therapy’.
“You’re new,” he said, passing my desk. I wasn’t used to talking to men at all and was doubtful of everyone in the big city of Boston.
“I am,” I replied.
“I like your glasses,” he said.
I touched them. “Thanks. They belonged to my grandmother.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Bona fide 1950’s elk horn.”
He smiled and walked on. Whenever he passed my desk, I squirmed.
Everything in the city was exciting and different. I had my own little room in a shared house just a fifteen-minute walk from the office. It was not where I expected to be at age twenty-six, but life was full of surprises. There were restaurants everywhere with all kinds of food imaginable, and I was surprised to find that I was even kind of fashionable in my own way. I’d gotten accustomed to sewing my own clothes back home and here women stopped me on the streets.
“Where’d you get that gorgeous retro dress?” one lady asked.
I showed off my A-frame hem. “This old thing? I made it.”
“No way!” she said. “You should start your own business.”
“Would people buy stuff like this?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? I will. I’ll be your first customer.”
So that was how I came to know Dalia, who became my first friend since I’d left Utah and my old married life behind. Dalia came over for tea on Sundays, took me to the movies and even talked about that dreaded topic—men.
“Are you seeing anyone yet?” she asked one weekend.
I shook my head. “There’s this one guy at work, but he only talks to me for a minute at a time.”
“Is he cute?”
“I think so.”
“Ask him out.”
“I could never do that.”
“Maya, you’re going to have to do something sooner or later. You’re way too awesome to be a spinster forever.”
“A divorcée,” I corrected. “Nothing wrong with being single.”
“I know there’s nothing wrong with it, but don’t you want the thrill of a new lover? The swoon of being in a man’s arms again?”
She sounded so enthusiastic I felt myself blush. “I don’t know if they’re worth the trouble.”
“Who’s this guy at work?”
“His name’s Hunter.”
“Don’t you sometimes picture yourself in his embrace?”
“Well, yeah,” I capitulated. I did. I also dreamed about him. Every now and then, I’d find myself daydreaming about what it’d be like to fall asleep in his arms or wake up to him. I wondered what his place looked like and whether he had a girlfriend or wife.
“So talk to him.”
“And say what?”
“Anything. Tell him you like his name. Tell him you want him to hunt you.”
I laughed. There was no way I was doing that.
But the following week, just as he passed my desk, something came over me.
I blurted, “So what do you hunt, Hunter?”
Immediately I blushed.
With any luck, he didn’t hear it
. But he stopped, picked up my paperweight and held it in his hands. It seemed so forward that he felt right at home touching one of my possessions.
“That depends,” he said, smiling.
“On?”
“What’s available?”
“Oh,” I said, then followed it with a nervous giggle.
I thought he’d leave and our interaction would be over and I could go back to my private world to analyze every detail of what he’d said. I was not used to men flirting. I was pretty sure he had been. Instead, he stayed by my desk, eyeing me. It was like he was scanning my other stationery, looking for something to hold.
“What are you doing on Friday night?” he asked.
“Me? I have no plans.”
Other than filing my nails.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
Holy moly.
This was the kind of thing that happened in movies, not in my life. Sure, Hunter was no Brad Pitt, but I preferred the Patton Oswalts anyway.
“Yes,” I said. “That would be nice. It’ll be my first here in Boston.”
“Your first dinner? I don’t believe that.”
I thought he was trying to trip me up with that comment. It took me a moment to realize he was joking around with me. Everything was in slow motion because I was nervous.
“My first date,” I said. “I mean, if that’s what it is. A date, I mean.”
He put the paperweight down again and tilted his head to one side like he couldn’t understand what I said. “A pretty gal like you? First date? Really?”
I nodded.
“Huh. I guess I should have asked you out when I first wanted to. You caught my eye right away when you started.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. And it’s been what? Three months now?”
“Four and a half.”
“I better snatch you up before anyone else tries to,” he said. “So, Friday. How about I pick you up around seven?”
“Sure.” I was aflutter at the idea of being snatched up.
About the Author
Romance heroines have saved my sanity numerous times through break-ups and life changes. I find escaping into a romance both soothing and revitalizing—and even better when there are some steamy scenes to tantalize the imagination.
For most of my adult life, I’ve concentrated on carving out a serious career, but a number of love-hungry, sassy characters keep taking over my mind, insisting that I daydream, live vicariously through them and tell their stories. Watching these women emerge on the page gives me a different sort of satisfaction than I get from my day job. It is a joy to share them with readers.
I live in a tiny apartment in a crowded city and I like to think there is something romantic about this. I did manage to find my soul mate here.
Email:
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Destiny loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
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Also by Destiny Moon
