
Given the chance, would you dare to indulge your wildest sexual fantasies?
A Binding Ties story.
Isabella Tallin, a brand-spanking new Sigma Iomega Nu sorority pledge, thought she was waiting at the corner of Elm and Main for her initiation rite to begin. She knows these things are notoriously secret affairs, but surely the initiation doesn't involve a gorgeous guy in a hot red convertible and being bound, gagged, and blindfolded...does it? Only one way to find out...
Logan Sommers can't believe the innocent-looking girl waiting for him is his mysterious client---a sexually jaded woman who paid his company, Fantasies Fulfilled, to indulge her most outrageous sexu al fantasies. But the pickup instructions were clear. He's never forced himself on anyone in his life, but if she insists on playing the innocent schoolgirl...well, it's her party.
Then his planned night of seduction takes a turn he never expected...
Warning: You'll be hot to join this sorority by the end of the story!
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
The Initiation of Isabella
Copyright © 2009 by Jenna Ives
ISBN: 978-1-60504-761-4
Edited by Laurie Rauch
Cover by Scott Carpenter
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: September 2009
The Initiation of Isabella
Every author should give credit where credit is due, so I'd like to thank my nightly cocktail (imbibed while overlooking the Pacific ocean) for inspiring this story, and especially my editor Laurie Rauch for thinking it was good enough to be published by Samhain!
The Initiation of Isabella
Every author should give credit where credit is due, so I'd like to thank my nightly cocktail (imbibed while overlooking the Pacific ocean) for inspiring this story, and especially my editor Laurie Rauch for thinking it was good enough to be published by Samhain!
Isabella Tallin was handcuffed and blindfolded.
What the hell was going on?
Okay, so she'd pledged the Sigma Iomega Nu sorority---and everyone knew that sorority initiations were secret, mysterious affairs. But this? This went completely beyond anything she could have imagined.
Or did it?
She took a deep breath.
Start the story at the beginning, Bella...
Earlier, she'd gotten a call from Diane, one of her would-be sorority sisters. Diane had instructed her to wait at the corner of Main and Elm streets at eight o'clock, where Isabella would be picked up. Nothing more than that. Isabella couldn't even get a clue out of her as to how to dress. But Sigma Iomega Nu was a well-respected sorority---no deadly drinking binges or wooden-paddle spanking rituals for them. Other sororities, sure. She'd heard the stories just like everybody else. But Sigma Iomega Nu? Not a chance. Any initiation they came up with would be tame by comparison.
At least that's what she'd thought this afternoon...
After Diane's cryptic phone call, Isabella had stared into her closet, debating what to wear. Her roommate Jenny, who couldn't be bothered with snotty sororities, as she called them, had recommended a basic, ready-for-anything outfit of T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, but Bella knew Sigma Iomega Nu girls were sticklers about their preppy attire, so she finally decided on a simple white blouse, plaid skirt and sensible shoes. She'd hoped her future sorority sisters weren't planning to drop her and her fellow pledges somewhere in the wilderness and make them find their way back home, but just in case, she'd also thrown her trusty Swiss army knife into her purse.
It was better to be prepared for anything, right?
After Jenny had dropped her off at eight o'clock, Isabella had been surprised to find herself the only person waiting on the designated street corner. Where were the other girls? Were they all being picked up from different locations? That seemed odd, but Diane had been explicit about her instructions.
She'd glanced at the street sign. Yep, Main and Elm. Hmm.
Isabella had just started re-running Diane's phone conversation in her head when a sleek, cherry-red convertible cruised around the corner and pulled to a stop right in front of her.
With the sexiest guy she'd ever seen sitting behind the wheel.
His hair was black as night and slightly mussed, as if the wind had tangled it while he drove. His face was all classic lines---straight nose, square chin, and full, sensual lips. His eyes were a deep, dramatic blue, and she actually felt short of breath as those eyes blatantly took their time looking her up and down.
Oh. My. God. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Who on earth was he, and what was he doing here?
"Get in," he said with a jerk of his head.
Her eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets in surprise. He wanted her to get in his car? There must be some mistake.
"Um...hi. Cool car. But you can't possibly be here to pick me up?" The disbelief was clear in her voice, even though she'd tried her best to sound casual. But when he actually nodded his head, she couldn't stop herself from sputtering, "But---but where are the others?"
He gave her an enigmatic smile and dropped his voice to the deepest, sexiest murmur she'd ever heard in her life. "Don't worry. They're waiting for you."
Her legs almost gave out at that point. Dear God. That voice! That mouth! His sinful smile turned her knees to jelly and she swallowed hard. "But---"
He leaned across the seat, stretched out a long, muscular arm, and opened the door for her. "Get in."
He said that her fellow pledges were waiting, so obviously he'd been sent to take her somewhere. This was all legit, even if what was happening wasn't exactly clear to her yet. But then, initiation rites were never clear, right? That was the whole point. They were shrouded in mystery. She swallowed, still hesitant. Call her overly cautious, or even downright paranoid, but no girl in her right mind would get into a car with a man she didn't know, even if she did have a Swiss army knife in her purse.
A fat lot of good a tiny fold-up blade would be if Mr. Sexy here wanted to overpower her.
"Um. Just to be clear..." she said. "You're supposed to meet me here, at the corner of Elm and Main, at eight o'clock, as set up by Diane, right?"
He cocked his head, giving her a surprised look. "Yes. I'm here at the agreed time and place. This is all part of tonight's arrangement. It's what you want, isn't it?"
Well, yes. She wanted to be part of Sigma Iomega Nu, and he seemed to know her future sorority sister. So this must be okay. Everything was legit. Taking a deep breath, she made her decision and slid into the passenger seat. He nodded his approval and pulled slowly away from the curb.
"Can you at least tell me where we're going?" she pressed.
He shook his head. "You know the rules," he replied in that deep, rich voice. "No questions."
Yes, those damn initiation rules. No questions. Isabella bit her lip and kept quiet.
With nothing else to do while they drove, she covertly studied Mr. Sexy's perfect profile. In addition to his black hair, blue eyes and that luscious mouth, it looked like he had the perfect body to match. His navy blue polo shirt stretched across a broad chest, the short sleeves giving her a good view of his muscular arms. His tight black jeans outlined his slim hips and long legs. His fingers rested with casual control on the steering wheel, and made her wonder what they'd feel like on her body.
She shivered slightly, remembering the way he'd boldly looked her over on the street corner. He was pure sex on wheels, as her roommate Jenny would say. And this guy was literally sex on wheels---a gorgeous man in a hot sports car. Totally unlike her own boyfriend, Jeff---the comfortable, reliable, sandy-haired neighborhood boy she'd known all her life, the nice boy her parents adored.
But lately, she'd found she'd been growing dissatisfied, restless, okay, bored with Jeff. Bored with her life in general, to be honest. She wasn't even sure anymore about following in her mother's footsteps to become a lawyer. Sure, Isabella was enrolled in her mom's alma mater, and here she was trying to join her old sorority, but between her parents and her boyfriend, Isabella's life seemed already neatly planned out, a done deal.
But was it really what she wanted?
Not eager to pursue that disturbing line of thought, she refocused on the man sitting next to her. Yes, the sight of him behind the wheel, with the wind rippling his jet-black hair, was much more pleasant. In profile, he looked like some dashing secret agent. Silent. Enigmatic. Maybe even a little dangerous. Dangerous in a good way, of course, like the proverbial bad boys she loved to read about in books. Hmm. She wondered what it would be like to have a little taste of dangerous in her life right now. Would a guy like Mr. Sexy ever be interested in a girl like her? She knew she could easily pass for twenty-five, but he seemed even older than that. Why would her sorority sisters have recruited him? What role was he playing in this initiation tonight?
Whatever it was, Isabella was enjoying this brief little fantasy of gorgeous-guy-and-me-in-a-hot-sports-car. From there it was only a small step to the ultimate daydream of gorgeous-guy-and-me-in-bed. She wondered what he looked like naked, what wild things Mr. Sexy liked to do with a woman between the sheets. She smiled to herself and threw her head back onto the leather seat to savor the delicious fantasy. Whatever else happened during tonight's initiation, this ride in a hot sports car with an equally hot guy would make a yummy story to tell Jenny tomorrow.
They drove for maybe twenty minutes. Since school had just recently started, Isabella was relatively new to the city and only had a vague idea of where they were headed. But she could definitely see it was toward the industrial part of town. Warehouses and well-worn storefronts lined the streets, railroad tracks crossed the road.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a huge, nondescript wooden building. There were two giant-sized intertwined capital letter F's painted on the side, but no other sign on the building anywhere to identify what it might be.
Her escort was a perfect gentleman---helping her out of the car, holding the warehouse door open, and guiding her down a long corridor---but it was all done in silence. Finally, he'd stopped outside a particular door and turned to her, slipping a finger under her purse strap and sliding it off her shoulder.
"Wait a minute!" she protested, thinking of the Swiss army knife.
"I promise it'll be safe, and you won't be needing it," he assured her, dropping the purse unceremoniously onto the concrete floor next to the door. "Now hold out your hands."
"What?"
"Your hands. Hold them out in front of you."
She frowned, but did as he asked. And before her brain had time to register what he was doing, he reached into his back pocket, whipped out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them around her wrists. In shock, she stared down at them. These were not police-issue cuffs; they were padded with a thick material, lamb's wool maybe, like the kind she imagined people used during kinky sex. Her stunned gaze flew to his face and she opened her mouth to protest, only to be rendered speechless when she saw what was in his hand.
A blindfold.
"Where's Diane?" she managed to choke out. "Where's everyone else?"
"Diane's not here tonight," he answered calmly then inclined his head toward the door. "The others are inside. Waiting for you."
"But---"
"Remember the rules...no questions."
She swallowed hard. This went way beyond what she was expecting. "Um, listen. This is my first time going through anything like this, so I'm kind of---nervous."
He gave her what looked like a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. A lot of women feel exactly the same. Just relax, and I'll take good care of you."
Isabella let out a breath. He's done this lots of times. With lots of women. She suddenly felt embarrassed, and was glad none of the other pledges were around to see how silly she was acting.
She took one last dubious look at the blindfold in his hands, and then nodded her consent. He quickly tied the cloth over her eyes.
And now there she stood, handcuffed and blindfolded, hardly believing Sigma Iomega Nu---that happy group of girls she'd met when she arrived on campus---could produce an initiation rite this, well, kinky. She tried to hold on to the thought that her fellow pledges were inside that room waiting for her. Maybe they were all still going to be taken to some other location and that was the need for the blindfold. But the handcuffs? She felt vulnerable, defenseless, utterly helpless with them on.
What was going to happen to her tonight?
"Are you ready?" Mr. Sexy asked quietly.
She swallowed again, and then nodded.
Isabella felt a gentle tug as Mr. S hooked a finger around the short chain that linked her handcuffs, and drew her toward the mysterious door. She tried not to stumble as she was led inside, blind, bound, and totally dependant on his guidance. She listened carefully for any noise from the other girls, but all was quiet.
Twenty paces into the room, they came to a stop.
She felt Mr. S work at her handcuffs, as if he was attaching something to them. There was a muffled click, and then he positioned her carefully two steps to the left.
She sensed him walking away, and then she heard a metallic grinding noise from somewhere off to the left. She gasped as her wrists were slowly raised into the air, above her head and then even farther, hoisting her up until she was only able to touch the floor with her tiptoes.
Her sensible flat shoes fell off as she dangled helplessly from her bonds.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, fear lodging firmly in her throat. "Let me down right now!"
She was brought up short by his deep, sexy voice coming from directly in front of her.
"Shhh," he soothed, laying a gentle finger across her lips. "This is all part of what you want."
Well, she'd thought she wanted to join Sigma Iomega Nu, and yes, she did know that some sort of initiation was part of the process. But this was outrageous. Wasn't it? Had the other girls in the room here gone through this too?
Stories of female pledges tied naked to trees and left overnight, or trussed up and thrown into the sea tumbled through her mind. She hadn't believed Sigma Iomega Nu was in that league. Could this initiation be any worse than those?
"But where are the other g---"
"They're here."
He was obviously getting tired of answering that question. It was probably the third time she'd asked him. Again she strained to hear something of the presence of the other girls in the room, but again, there was only a deafening silence.
"But I don't hear them---"
A sharp, ripping sound distracted her, and she tilted her head to listen. A moment later, she felt something---was that duct tape?---pressed across her mouth.
Good Lord, he'd gagged her!
She struggled mightily, not liking this one bit, convinced that Sigma Iomega Nu was not the sorority for her after all. But there was only so much she could do gagged, bound and blindfolded. She struggled until she finally wore herself out, which didn't take long, considering she was basically hanging by her wrists.
"Bad girl," he reprimanded softly. "I may have to punish you later for fighting me."
Isabella froze as the shocking reality of her situation dawned on her. She was completely at this man's mercy, and she had willingly put herself there---after all, she'd gotten into his car of her own free will, come to this deserted warehouse with him, and allowed him to handcuff and blindfold her.
What if he wasn't part of the Sigma Iomega Nu initiation at all?
She almost fainted at the thought.
Stay calm, Bella. Whether this is the initiation or something far worse, you have to deal with it.
She held her breath, waiting warily for his next move, and her entire body jerked when his warm hand finally made contact with her skin. His fingertips gently stroked her cheek and then ran slowly down the side of her neck. They teasingly followed the line where the edge of her blouse met her skin, sliding from her shoulder, down past her collarbone, hesitating at her top button, and then running up the other side of her chest.
Then slowly coming back down again to rest at her top button.
Pausing there.
Opening it.
No, no! She shook her head violently, and made a strangled sound of protest through her gag.
He ignored her and proceeded to the next button, making sure she was aware of the quiet pop as he slipped the button from its hole. He continued on to the next, and the next, until he had her blouse completely open.
She frantically tried to twist out of his reach, but it was difficult when her feet barely touched the floor. She couldn't find a toehold, nothing to use as leverage.
He abruptly grabbed her by the hips and held her tightly until she stilled.
"Why are you struggling?" he asked, actually sounding surprised. "I told you I'd take good care of you. This is all part of tonight's arrangement. Just relax."
Relax? How the hell could she relax when he was undressing her?
He let go of her hips, and his hand found its way back to her chest. Bella couldn't breathe. Her entire body trembled violently as Mr. S smoothed a finger slowly along the lacy edge of her bra, slid down between the valley of her breasts, then moved lower until he hooked a deliberate finger into the front closure of her bra, easily snapping it open.
She shook her head and moaned in distress as he spread the thin material and exposed her breasts to his view.
He inhaled sharply. "I hadn't expected you to be so beautiful."
This time there was definitely surprise in his voice.
Even in her panic, Isabella's brain registered the strangeness of his remark. Why would he have been expecting anything of her? Think, Bella! If this were simply part of some outrageous initiation, he wouldn't care what she looked like, right? Nor would he care if his intent was only to have his wicked way with her. What was the reason for his remark, then? Was there a third possibility here?
Suspended as she was, she knew her breasts were lifted and thrust forward, blatantly available to his touch. Inviting it, almost. She could have tried to twist away again, but that would only have made her breasts jiggle and bounce, and she wasn't about to incite him, to play into his game, whatever that game turned out to be.
So she held deathly still, even as she felt his thumbs slowly begin to graze her nipples in a steady back and forth motion. She gritted her teeth, but despite her resolve, her treacherous body responded to his touch. He encouraged her nipples to eager little peaks, and then rolled them between the pads of his fingertips until they became hard. Then, with a small sound of satisfaction, he leaned down and rewarded them with a stroke of his wet velvet tongue, and then sucked one at a time into his hot mouth.
Isabella shuddered, but this time it wasn't entirely from fear. That mouth! Oh God, the luscious lips she had so recently admired were now worshipping her breasts. He was sucking, licking and nipping her. This was completely outrageous---what he was doing to her was surely a crime, wasn't it?---and yet he was being so gentle about it. Almost as if he were patiently trying to arouse her, to stimulate her.
What the hell was really going on here?
He abruptly backed away from her breasts, and she felt the cold air of the room against her nipples where his hot mouth had just been. It sent another shiver through her, and she felt those tight tips getting even harder.
She tried desperately to speak through her gag, but he ignored her, instead walking around to stand behind her. He paused there for a moment, and she paused, too. Waiting. His fingers found the button at the top of her skirt. Too late, she realized his intent and tried to twist away from his grasp, but his agile fingers lowered the zipper, and in one fluid motion, he jerked her skirt down her legs and completely off. The awkward movement left her swinging by the chain restraint, fighting frantically to regain her balance, her tiptoes scrambling for purchase on the slippery floor.
Oh God, oh God... How had she left herself get into this situation?
She was now completely exposed to him except for her panties. And she was horribly certain they wouldn't stop him for long.
Once more she tried to protest, or at least to get his attention through the barrier of the duct tape long enough to try to reason with him. But his continuing silence made her realize he was just going to keep on ignoring her.
The situation was desperate. And desperate situations called for desperate measures.
Waiting until she heard him come back around to the front of her, she gauged as best she could his exact location, took a deep breath, and then kicked out at him with all her might.
She heard his grunt of surprise as her foot made contact with his body. A moment later, a loud thump told her he had obviously fallen to the floor.
Her decision to fight him off suddenly gave way to a terrible suspicion that she might have just made things worse. Maybe even much worse. She had endless minutes to worry about it while she heard his long, unsteady breaths as he fought to recover himself.
"I didn't realize you wanted to play rough," he said tightly, his voice coming up to her from the direction of the floor.
Oh God, she had definitely made things worse.
She heard him scramble back to his feet, but she sensed that he stayed far away from her dangerous feet.
The soft rustle of clothes made her inhale sharply. Was he undressing? She heard the popping of snaps, the unzipping of his pants, and then the unmistakable soft tear of foil.
Oh, no, no, no...
In a rush, he moved behind her and quickly pressed the full length of his body against her back, too tightly for her to get a kick off backwards, even if she thought she could. His hard erection pressed against her backside as his left arm pulled her close up against him. She twisted and turned as hard as she could, but it was no use.
"Don't fight it," he insisted. "Enjoy it. This is what you paid for. And I always satisfy my clients."
What---?
This is what you paid for?
Isabella froze in stunned disbelief. Holy crap. This wasn't the Sigma Iomega Nu initiation and it wasn't rape either. It was something else entirely, that third possibility she'd considered a moment ago---a mix-up of the most unbelievable kind.
Was it possible that Mr. S was some sort of...gigolo? A male escort? She could hardly believe it. But he was a gorgeous guy with an incredibly hot body, and as outrageous as this situation was, if an unknown woman had actually paid him for pleasure, that would explain Mr. S's gentleness so far in handling Isabella. He'd tried to calm her down---reassure her---more than once when she'd protested his actions, and he hadn't even retaliated when she'd tried to kick him in the balls---well, except maybe for his dire words about punishment.
Was this place some sort of pleasure palace then, and had some mysterious woman paid for a...a bondage fantasy of some sort? The idea was shocking, extreme, but obviously the two had never met, or else Mr. S would realize that Isabella was not his client.
Her mind raced as she frantically tried to think of a way to communicate to him that he'd made a horrible mistake, especially since he seemed dead-set on ignoring every effort she made to speak to him.
The heat of his powerful male body radiated into hers as he pressed harder up against her, his hot breath teasing the side of her neck. His naked chest was smooth as silk against her back, his muscular arm was wrapped around her waist, and his cock was obviously eager for the night to begin.
Wait. A. Minute.
What if...?
What would it be like to just let herself go and enjoy this? To pretend to be Mr. S's client? He was a gorgeous guy, and not twenty minutes ago in his car, she'd been thinking about just this sort of thing. Well, not exactly this sort of thing. Not dangling handcuffed and helpless from a ceiling restraint. But she'd thought he looked dangerous, hell, she'd fantasized about having a little dangerous in her life, and nothing could be more dangerous than this. Sex with a total stranger. An incredibly sexy stranger who obviously knew how to pleasure a woman. She had no doubt that her orgasm would be cataclysmic---for goodness sake, if he was a gigolo, he was an expert in the art of pleasing a woman! And she'd heard him put on a condom, so she'd be protected.
And he'd told her she was beautiful, so the attraction was obviously mutual.
What if this case of mistaken identity allowed her to indulge in the hottest sex of her life? Was she brazen enough to go for it?
Before she could decide, his grip tightened around her waist.
"Tell me that you want me," he whispered huskily into her ear.
Logan Sommers frowned as he waited impatiently for a signal from her.
The woman he held tightly in his grip was nothing like he had expected. Nothing like her application form had indicated. There was simply no way a woman as beautiful as this---and with a body as perfect as hers---would have trouble getting any man to indulge her sexual fantasies for a night. For her to pay him for this was almost ludicrous.
And yet, here she was. Bound, gagged and blindfolded.
Exactly as she'd requested.
So why was she fighting him?
He'd been completely intrigued by her application. So intrigued, in fact, that he'd taken this assignment from his main man, Max, and insisted that he'd do the job himself.
It was a first for Logan. He might be the owner of Fantasies Fulfilled, but he never dealt personally with the clients.
Most women, in their initial booking with his company, picked one scenario from the extensive menu of options he offered. Usually it was something tame, something straightforward, or maybe something just a tiny bit out of the ordinary, in order to push their sexual boundaries a little. Whatever they decided on, it was usually something simple, allowing them to dip their toe safely into the fantasy waters to see if they liked it. His staff had never yet failed to satisfy a female customer, but usually it was just with one scenario per session.
The woman dangling before him had picked four.
All in one night.
And the fourth... He shook his head in wonder.
Where are the others? That had been almost the first question out of her luscious mouth on the street corner. He'd told her the others were waiting for her. And they were. Right there, just off this room. Watching them. And probably just as blue-balled as he was, eagerly anticipating their turn with her.
Who could blame them? She was brazen, this one. And obviously multi-orgasmic. Sexually curious. Erotically adventurous.
What was her story? What had brought her here tonight?
There were three main reasons most women contacted his company. The first was pretty innocent---on a dare, for fun, or to have something to tell their girlfriends about the next day.
The second was the main reason he'd started Fantasies Fulfilled---for the women whose husbands or boyfriends couldn't, or simply wouldn't, take the time or make the effort to satisfy them. There were more women who fell into this category than Logan, as a man, would like to admit. It was a poor reflection on his gender, but it had made his business a runaway success in just the six months it had been open.
The third explanation was probably the reason he was here tonight---because a high-powered executive businesswoman either didn't have the time to establish a relationship with a man, intimidated the men she did meet, or wasn't interested in a relationship, just basic sex.
Whatever the motivation, Logan had found that after a woman had worked up the nerve to book one of his fantasy options, she usually came eagerly dressed for the part. But this woman tonight had chosen four of his most decadent scenarios and then come clad like a schoolgirl! He'd been amazed at her prim white blouse and uniform-like plaid skirt, and her no-nonsense, flat black shoes. No sexy black lace bra or leopard-print thong panties for her---plain white cotton underwear was what he'd found. It had given him a moment's pause---especially since a simple halter top would have been easier to remove, given that she was handcuffed---but at least she'd cooperated enough to wear a bra that opened at the front, allowing him easy access to her perfect breasts.
They were such a surprise, those breasts, just like the rest of her body.
I never expected you to be so beautiful.
Idiot. He could kick himself for saying that out loud. Where was his professionalism, the required detachment that was a necessary part of this job? He was tempted to blame it on the fact that this was his first time participating in one of these sessions, but he of all people should know better than to blurt out what was on his mind.
On the other hand, there was no denying that her breasts were perfect, her nipples wonderfully responsive. He could happily stay right there all night, licking, sucking, nipping and kneading them. But it was early yet, and she had a long night of pleasure ahead of her.
He smiled. It would be no hardship to satisfy her in the other ways she'd requested. Hell, she was the best-preserved thirty-two year old he'd ever seen---another thing that had surprised him. Pert breasts, flat belly, and long, lean legs. He'd peg her for twenty-five, max. He'd been slightly concerned about his performance tonight, even thought about taking a little blue pill to ensure he'd be able to get through all four scenarios, but now he was glad he hadn't. After one look at her standing on that street corner, his twenty-eight-year-old body had been raring to go, eager to service her. Wrapped in the ribbed condom, his cock throbbed and jerked with restless anticipation.
Logan gritted his teeth.
Maybe this woman knew exactly what she was doing. Perhaps spending her days in control of one of the city's biggest companies made her want to give up all control at night, hence the various bondage fantasies she'd chosen. Or maybe she simply wanted to be forced, and rape was her real secret fantasy. It could be the reason she'd picked these particular options, dressed like she had, and then lashed out at him, pretending to struggle---because she knew she'd be safe acting out that scenario here.
It had been a damned close thing, though, that struggle. Her foot had landed on his upper thigh, mere inches from its intended target. His balls. He'd been so surprised that he'd jumped back, losing his balance and landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Good thing her blindfold had prevented her from seeing that.
Her action had prompted him to threaten her with punishment, which was, after all, another one of her requests. So maybe this was all part of her master plan. Maybe she wanted the fantasy of the innocent schoolgirl forced to learn the carnal lessons of life. That was fine with him, but she should have been more specific on her application. He'd never forced anyone, not even after they'd signed one of his lengthy consent forms. In fact, he wanted her verbal okay right now---well, her tacit okay, considering she was gagged---before they went any further.
After all, there was no chance he'd picked up the wrong woman. He'd been explicit about the location, and she'd been the only one on the designated corner tonight at eight. And yet...
She'd hesitated before getting in the car.
No. There was no mistake. She was the one who'd insisted on being picked up on an anonymous street corner in order to avoid being seen coming to his warehouse. She'd even mentioned Diane. And she'd blatantly asked him about the other men, for God's sake.
All the cloak-and-dagger secrecy was probably to protect her respectable business reputation.
There was no mistake.
Still... He wanted her consent. He needed to be absolutely sure she hadn't changed her mind about all this. So he tightened his left arm around her waist, pressed the promise of his erection against her backside, and said again, "Tell me you want me."
Tell me you want me.
Isabella held her breath as she felt Mr. S's left arm tighten around her waist, while his right hand slowly slid around her body, coming to rest on top of her panties, right at the juncture of her thighs.
His palm, so hot, was separated from her most private place by only a thin layer of cotton.
"Tell me you want it."
By God, she did. She wanted this one mad night of total sexual abandon in her rigidly regulated life. And who better to give it to her than a man trained in the ways of pleasuring a woman? A gorgeous man she would never see again, thereby giving her the freedom to enjoy every minute, abandoning herself totally to his sexual expertise.
The illicit thrill of it, the sheer erotic promise of tonight, coalesced into a tingle that zinged through her body and settled exactly in the spot where his hand pressed tightly against her panties. She flexed her hips and pushed up against it.
His grip around her waist tightened as he held her still. "Tell me."
She gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and nodded her head firmly. His left arm relaxed slightly in response. "Good. That's all I needed."
A little shiver went through her as she realized there would be no turning back now. She had agreed to this; her body was now his to do with as he wished.
She swallowed hard as the fingers of his right hand slid up her belly a few inches to tease the elastic at the top of her cotton panties. Back and forth he stroked along her sensitive flesh there, his intention perfectly clear. The wicked promise of his fingers raised goosebumps of anticipation on her heated flesh until finally, slowly, but deliberately, he inched his hot fingers underneath the thin cotton.
The fantasy had begun.
But the reality of it was still a shock. Before she could stop herself, she skittishly squeezed her legs together.
Stop it, Bella, you stupid girl. This is what you want!
His probing fingers paused, even as he gave a short laugh. "Ah. I understand your game now." Seemingly undeterred by her reaction, he slid his long fingers farther down, pushing through her tight curls to stroke what lay beneath.
Isabella gasped. The contact was electric, like hot fingers of fire. But what did he mean by his words? I understand your game now. Did he realize that she was not the woman he'd been meant to pick up? And did his insistent fingers mean that he'd also decided, as she had, to continue with this fantasy?
She couldn't think about that right now. All her attention was concentrated on his slow, stroking fingers. She moaned through her gag as he expertly played with her, his fingertips running lightly over every intimate inch of her. Exploring, teasing. Her legs trembled, and then parted to allow him greater access.
"That's right," he growled in approval. "Open yourself to me. Get wet for me."
He took advantage of her relaxed position and dipped one finger deeply inside her body to draw out some of her hot, creamy essence. Isabella shivered at the invasion, then gasped as he deliberately spread her honey all around so that his fingers could glide more easily across her sex. "Yes, this is what you want," he murmured. "To be hot and slick, just like this, ready to take my cock inside you. You want me to fuck you, to give you pleasure. But I want you to be desperate for it, frantic for it, before I finally give it to you."
Isabella's head spun at the blatant carnality of his words.
He eased his grip in order to slowly lower her panties down her legs and toss them aside. She was fully exposed to him now, and for a moment she almost second-guessed her decision. But in all their years together, her boyfriend Jeff had never made her feel this way, never made her body flush with heat, her skin tingle with desire, and every nerve-ending jump with such heightened awareness.
She wanted this.
He sucked in a breath. "Christ. Your body is so beautiful."
She heard the clear admiration in his voice as he stroked her again, one long caress that slid through her wetness. His fingers found her sensitive little bud and he concentrated his motion there, circling it, tugging on it gently, mimicking the rhythm of the spasms she would feel during orgasm. He was pulling, taunting, squeezing her. Her legs spread wider to give him even greater access, and her body began to jerk in response to the rhythm his fingers were setting. It was a wildly intense pleasure. She could feel the hardness of his cock pressing up against her backside, and felt trapped between two potent weapons---his magic hands in front and his rigid shaft in back. The sensations sent her head spinning, and she inhaled sharply with each firm tug of his fingers, knowing she couldn't take much more of this intimate assault. She wanted to let go and give in to it.
"Not yet," he hissed as he pulled away from her.
He spun her around to face him, the flexible chain restraint making the move easy to accomplish. She momentarily felt his hot breath on her face, and then, with a whoosh of air, she realized he'd fallen to his knees. He lifted her legs and draped one over each of his shoulders, positioning her for easy access by his mouth. This wasn't what she'd expected. She'd heard him rip open the foil of the condom, after all, and just a minute ago he'd told her he was going to fuck her. But this? She'd been with Jeff long enough to have tried just about everything couples try together, but even when Jeff had wanted to do this, it had taken a lot to convince her. Mr. Sexy, on the other hand, gave her no time for self-consciousness or doubt. He spread her sex with his thumbs and pressed his mouth against her, exploring every inch of her with those luscious lips and his eager tongue.
With that gorgeous mouth.
Isabella gasped through her gag. The sensations were incredible. She only wished she could see it as well as feel it. The mental image of his head buried between her thighs, his mouth pressed hard up against her soft, wet flesh, sent such a carnal thrill through her that she shuddered. Her body was so wired, so sensitive, that every rasp of his hot, velvety tongue sent sharp spikes of pleasure radiating throughout her body.
Mr. S seemed to be enjoying it, too. She could definitely feel the hum of his mouth against her as he moaned. It was amazing---a little vibrating sensation that added another touch of the erotic to what he was already doing to her. Or was he specifically humming like that for her pleasure?
Maybe it's a trick of the trade...
She smiled and gave herself over to him fully, angling her body to press harder against his mouth, wanting more of his magic lips and his hot tongue. Her pulse began to race and her blood started to pound. Just another minute and she would---
"Not yet," he hissed again, pulling away from her once more.
Frustration ripped a muffled protest from her throat. He slipped her legs off his shoulders, while she tried to drag in air through her nose, hoping to calm her racing heart. A small sound made her realize that he had stood. He grabbed for her legs again, but this time he wrapped them around his waist, pulling her tightly toward him. Without a word, he thrust his cock inside her, penetrating deeply. She gasped, shocked at the sudden, violent invasion---such a contrast to his gentle foreplay. She bucked her hips in a half-hearted protest, but he took advantage of her move to slide his cock even deeper inside her. She tried twisting her hips instead, but that only allowed him to rub up against her in places that made her gasp again, this time in surprised pleasure. She finally stopped moving altogether and simply waited for what he was about to do.
He's the expert, remember...
Holding her underneath her knees, he settled slowly into a rhythmic motion---pulling back out of her and then pushing in deeper, a routine made easy by the rocking flexibility of her chain restraint.
The feeling was sensational. Isabella tried to measure the length of his impressive cock as he slipped inch after delicious inch inside her. In and out he slid, over and over, coating himself with her slick wetness, flexing his hips to go deeper, until she was helplessly moaning with the pleasure of it.
And wanting more. So much so that she crossed her ankles around his waist in order to pull him more fully inside her.
He gave a small laugh of obvious approval.
Damn, this Mr. S knew exactly what he was doing---he was in total control of her body. His rhythm abruptly changed from those long, slick slides to a short bucking motion, which immediately set her on a path spiraling quickly upward. Up and to the edge of falling into that abyss of pleasure.
Please, please...please let me come this time!
"Yes!" he ordered, and she let go, all the tension in her body finally breaking in an explosion of fireworks. She screamed a muffled release through her gag as her body contracted around him in sharp spasms of pleasure that went on and on until they left her breathless.
Logan ground himself into her writhing body one more time, determined to give her every bit of pleasure he could.
He'd been a bad boy, after all, and he felt he needed to atone.
Tasting her wasn't part of this particular scenario, but he hadn't been able to resist it. She was delicious, all cinnamon and sugar, and he'd wanted to sample her honey firsthand. Simple as that. He had the liberty with these scenarios to improvise, to bend the rules as he saw fit, but tonight was supposed to be about her needs, not his.
Her needs.
Yes, he understood her game now. She'd clearly given him the consent he'd demanded in order to proceed, and then immediately fought him over what he was doing. She'd squeezed her legs together to prevent his access to her body; bucked her hips to try to escape his cock. Obviously she did want to be forced---maybe not quite raped, but she did want to play rough.
He could do rough.
Didn't particularly like it, but if it was what the client wanted...
He frowned. Tonight was a perfect example of why he owned the company, but never participated in its games. He had a hard time separating sex from emotion, always had. He understood the need for a business like his---God knew that both his sister Diane and his large backlog of clients had convinced him of that fact---but to him, sex should be the expression of some feeling. It should be based on mutual attraction, a deep like, or, ideally, love. Not a Band-Aid solution to problems in a woman's real relationships.
Then again, who was he to judge? He was a pathetic romantic. It wasn't fair to impose his values and judgments on others, especially considering his line of work.
And after all, it had been his decision to personally take on this particular client tonight. He'd gone against his own rules when he'd opted to service her himself.
Why had he done it?
He knew why, or at least he'd thought he did. The four scenarios she'd chosen had astounded him. He'd wanted to see what kind of woman would order up decadence like this, and all in one night! But she was so unlike what he'd expected. He'd been prepared for a jaded, experienced, world-weary, sexually blasé woman. But instead, this woman came across as a young, sweet, almost untouched schoolgirl. Hell, the way she shuddered and shook under his touch seemed so fresh, so genuine. He knew a woman could fake an orgasm, but could she fake her reaction to a man's touch like that?
Well he knew this one hadn't faked her orgasm. He had witnessed her violent contractions, felt her inner muscles grabbing at him, pulling his cock even deeper inside her than he'd forced it. And he'd certainly forced it. After his lapse with his mouth, he'd been determined to make it up to her with his cock. Hard and insistent, he'd used it to drive her to her breaking point and then beyond, straight over the edge. He'd done well. But she'd fought him in that, too, by bucking her hips, and twisting her body to try to get away from him.
Obviously she'd done that for a reason.
She wanted to be punished. He'd threatened her with punishment earlier, and her actions just now simply confirmed it was what she expected.
He could do punishment.
Still, a little something inside him was disappointed.
Isabella tried to catch her breath after the shattering pleasure of her climax, but it was difficult to do with Mr. S still hard as a rock inside her.
Hard as a rock...
How on earth had he resisted his own release, considering what they'd just done? Oh, wait. He was a gigolo. Of course he would have incredible endurance, amazing stamina, considering his line of work. Yes, that was it. She must seem like a silly novice to him. He'd made her climax in mere seconds.
Still, she'd never experienced sex like this in her life, and it wasn't just because of the outrageous position. Her orgasm had literally triggered white-hot bolts of lightning in her head, and sent spasms shooting throughout her body with incredible intensity.
Her legs were shaky but still locked around his body, and she rolled her hips in order to feel his thick cock still deep inside her. She was determined to take everything she could get from him tonight, naïve as it might seem. So she was surprised and unexpectedly pleased when he growled low in his throat and ground tightly up against her in response, sliding his strong hands under her backside to hold her up.
Frankly, she felt like growling herself. He had unleashed something inside her, some latent sexual tigress she hadn't even known was there. Well, maybe not a tigress, but certainly a tiger cub, eager to learn what he could teach her.
She would never have another night like this one, and even though sex couldn't possibly get any better than what she'd just experienced, she didn't want this wild night to end. She didn't want to leave, dreaded the moment Mr. S would take her back to a lonely street corner and her logical, laid-out life.
She cried out a protest when he slowly pulled out of her and eased her legs gently back down to the floor, and she was still struggling with her scattered emotions when she felt the chain restraint lower her arms until the tension was completely slack. She was aware of the dull ache in her shoulders as he disconnected the chain from her handcuffs, but it was a small price to pay for the enormous pleasure he'd just made her feel.
"Come with me," he ordered.
No, no! It couldn't be over. She didn't want to go home yet, but he resolutely pulled her along. Her legs were wobbly, but even so, she tried to dig in her heels on the slippery concrete floor. She jerked on the handcuffs and tried to speak through her gag, frantically shaking her head.
Maybe she could talk him into a few more minutes. Or maybe he'd let her hire him for a repeat session. If only he would take off this damned gag!
His steps slowed, and he and Isabella came to a stop maybe ten feet away from where they'd started, well short of the exit door. She paused and tilted her head, waiting.
Had he recognized her plea? Had her prayer been answered?
Whichever it was, it seemed he wasn't taking her home.
Bad girl.
Logan scowled.
Their first scenario was over, but the fact that she was still overtly fighting him---digging in her heels, yanking on her handcuffs---meant that she was definitely asking for her second scenario. To be punished. And the violence of her struggle indicated she was looking for something more potent than just a ceremonial slap of his hand on her delicate backside.
Good thing he'd prepared several alternatives.
Which one was she secretly hoping for? Which one would please her while also seem like appropriate retribution for her resistance? If not his hand, then what? He glanced over at the array of toys on the nearby wall for his choices. Paddle, crop, whip...
He bit his lip.
She had a beautiful backside, with lush cheeks that his fingers itched to knead, to caress. It was the one part of her that he definitely hadn't paid adequate attention to yet. It seemed a shame to mar those perfectly ripe globes, but, then again, after he punished them he'd get to comfort them.
He glanced again at the wall. Hmm...he knew just which device would do the trick. She would get what she wanted, but then, so would he.
His cock twitched in anticipation.
"You tried to fight me."
Isabella shivered at the silky menace she heard in Mr. S's voice. His words were threatening, but he delivered them in such a sinfully seductive tone that she wasn't really scared. How could she be, after he'd given her such an incredible orgasm? And as long as he wasn't sending her home, she felt she could take anything he had in store for her. Or, rather, anything that other woman, his client, had paid for.
And, technically, Mr. S was right. At the beginning of all this, Isabella had tried to fight him, but once she'd realized he was a gigolo, her protest had initially been for modesty's sake. Yes, protested would a more appropriate word. She hadn't really fought him.
She'd only truly struggled just now---when she thought he was taking her home. How ironic was that?
"You fought me even though I only wanted to give you pleasure," he whispered dangerously in her ear. "I told you I would punish you if you did that."
Isabella inhaled sharply. He was going to punish her? Wait a minute, this might be a bit more than she'd bargained for. Had his client paid for punishment, or was he doing this just because Isabella had resisted him?
What exactly was he planning?
Despite wanting to stay with him, she felt a twinge of fear. She was a relative neophyte when it came to sex, so she had no idea what exactly sexual punishment might entail. He tugged on her handcuffs and she pulled back against him, shook her head and tried once again to speak through her gag.
Maybe he'd let her ask.
Her resistance didn't even give him pause. He all but dragged her forward, until she suddenly came in contact with a padded bar of some sort. Like a gymnast's balance beam maybe. At least that's what it felt like, considering she couldn't see it.
Mr. S continued to pull insistently at her wrists, until her arms were extended to their full length out in front of her, and then he pulled her even farther, until she was forced to bend over the waist-level bar at a slight angle. He stretched her a few inches more, and then hooked her handcuffs to a latch on a wall, at about shoulder height. She knew it was a wall because she could feel smooth wood beneath her fingertips.
Pulled taut at this awkward angle, with her naked buttocks prominently exposed as she bent over the bar, she suddenly knew what kind of punishment this would be. But then Mr. S added an unexpected twist by moving around to stand behind her, forcing her legs wide apart, and guiding her feet into something that felt like stirrups set in the floor.
"I told you I'd punish you if you fought me," he said again as he ominously caressed her rear cheeks.
She was completely at his mercy spread out like this before him, and she thought again about protesting through the gag, but he obviously thought this was all part of her game. If she objected, he would simply be more determined. It had been the way he'd consistently reacted so far tonight, ignoring her protests.
Wait a minute...
I understand your game now, he'd said.
She inhaled sharply in sudden comprehension. Was he playing rough because she was playing hard to get? But she'd only played hard to get because he'd gotten the wrong woman!
She forced herself to breathe and logically think this situation through. If Mr. S was a hired gigolo, he wouldn't actually hurt her. His job was to please her, and everything he'd done so far had pleased her enormously. So, despite this threat of sexual punishment, it should be all right. Maybe even pleasurable. As long as she didn't struggle.
She tried to hold onto that logic as she waited for what he'd do.
She heard him moving around, shifting objects, and then suddenly she heard a crisp snap. The next moment, she felt one of his hands back on her exposed buttocks, gently stroking and squeezing her rear cheeks. She swallowed hard, but concentrated on the caress of his hand, smooth and firm, as it glided from the small of her back, over one cheek, down to the top of her leg, and then back up again. Mmm. She liked the sureness, the confidence in his touch, the way he seemed to know a woman's body so well. She was relaxing into the pleasure of that caress when he abruptly pulled his hand away.
And replaced it with a stinging pain that nearly stole her breath.
Her head snapped up and she tried not to howl in outrage. She had expected a slap of his hand, but by the feel of it, he had struck her buttocks with a whip, maybe even something like an old-fashioned cat-o-nine-tails, because she was smarting in several different places.
After the stinging blow, his hand returned to stroke and soothe the places where he had hit her. His touch was cool on her tender flesh, and she tried to breathe, to concentrate on that comforting gesture and not on the surprising pain. But as soon as the stinging died away, he removed his hand and quickly struck her again.
This time she did howl. This was outrageous, and it hurt, dammit! But now, after the second blow, he took the handle of the whip and gently ran it along the length of her cleft, while his other hand once again stroked the pain away from her burning rear cheeks. The thick leather handle of the whip had full access to her body since her legs were spread so wide, and it rubbed teasingly along her nether lips, pausing provocatively at her woman's center before dipping just inside her.
Isabella gasped. What kind of punishment was this? The pain of the whip's tip...replaced quickly by the pleasure of its handle.
Again Mr. S removed his hand, and again the whip quickly came down. But this time, Isabella only clenched her jaw against the stinging pain and waited for the pleasure she knew would come. And this time, as he ran the handle of the whip along her cleft, he let it slip deeper inside her body. She froze, and so did he, holding the handle perfectly still.
She was afraid to move, afraid of what he'd do next, while another part of her was afraid he might stop. A kind of carnal curiosity gripped her. She wanted this, wanted everything he could give her. She forced out a breath and tried to relax, to trust him.
After a moment, he slowly eased the whip handle even deeper inside her, twisting it this time as he went. Her body jerked with surprised pleasure as the roughened nubby leather sent unexpected sensations shooting throughout her insides. The bumpy ridges of the handle felt like a secret hand stroking her from the inside, touching her in places she could never reach herself. Its rough friction was delicious, making her moan loud and deep in her throat. Given that encouragement, Mr. S rhythmically began to slide the whip handle in and out of her body, slowly at first and then faster, twisting it as he went, altering the angle up or down to change the potency of the stroke. Her body bucked wildly in response to his actions, the pleasure so intense she could barely breathe. He was sending her straight into the stratosphere with these unbelievable sensations, and she seemed to have no control over her writhing body.
The pleasure built until she felt sure she was going to explode, to come even quicker than before, but an instant before she reached that critical point, he eased the handle out of her to rub it up against her clitoris. She tried to catch her breath, lamenting the loss of the whip inside her, but realizing just how wet she'd become by how easily the handle glided along her body. How did Mr. S do it? Did he know every secret to stimulate a woman? How could she possibly be ready to come again, wanting it so soon---and so badly---after such a monumental climax less than ten minutes ago?
But obviously he was ready, too. Suddenly the whip handle was gone, and what she felt now was definitely his hard, thick cock inching its way into her body. Deeply. Easily as deep as the whip handle had gone. And oh, this felt so much better, because it was him---his cock inside her, his body joined with hers. She pushed her fingers against the wall in an effort to force her body down, to impale herself more deeply onto him. He gasped in surprise, and then grunted in obvious approval. He took advantage of her splayed position, caressing her left breast with one hand, tugging at her excited nipple, while his other hand came around to stroke between her legs, pulling at her sensitive button as his cock thrust into her deeply, over and over.
God, it felt so good! She was at the mercy of his expert cock and his clever fingers, and she felt the blissful pressure building quickly again. She'd been so close to coming when the whip had been inside her, so primed and ready, that now it only took a moment of him thrusting into her before she broke apart in a violent, head-spinning climax, her body spasming powerfully, clutching wildly at him. The feeling was so intense that she could only gasp helplessly as dozens of tingling aftershocks shot through her.
She never knew a woman's body was capable of such a cataclysmic response.
She cursed the gag that stifled her cries of pleasure, wanting to tell Mr. S exactly how incredible he was, wanting absurdly to thank him for these amazing experiences tonight. She had no idea how much time passed as she dragged in great lungfuls of air and struggled to come back down to earth, grateful to be able to lean against the bar at her waist, which took some of the weight off her rubbery legs.
Who was this extraordinary man?
She felt his hot breath on her back, coming in quick pants. He rested his forehead against her shoulder blade, as if trying to recover his own breath. A deep flush came over Isabella. Had he been as deeply affected by this punishment as she'd been?
Before she could even take a moment to consider it, he ground his still rock-hard cock into her, just once.
"Obviously you like being punished, being at my mercy," he rasped huskily in her ear. "But now it seems that I'm the one being punished. You've had your satisfaction twice now and I'm still waiting. That's not exactly fair, is it?"
Logan took a moment to catch his racing breath.
This woman was such an enigma! She'd fought him during their first scenario then ended up wrapping her legs around his waist, as if she couldn't get enough of him. She'd struggled just now when he'd started to punish her, and then had practically impaled herself on his cock to take every last inch of him she could get.
It was almost like she was a virgin---skittish at first to the things he did, but then finding her pleasure, and wanting more of it. She'd turned eager, avid by the end of each session. Voracious and even vocal about it. Oh yes, he'd definitely heard the screams of pleasure her gag couldn't quite stifle.
He simply couldn't figure her out.
Was she really a thirty-two-year-old business executive acting like a naïve schoolgirl? She had handpicked these four licentious scenarios, and yet she acted like they were a complete surprise to her. Unknown. Unexpected.
But she was so wildly abandoned in her response to them, so honest and open in her reactions, that it excited the hell out of him. He felt a rush of longing he hadn't experienced in a very long time. It was more than desire, more than just lust. He wanted to call this whole thing off, cancel tonight's session, and just stop to take the time to get to know this mysterious woman. Then take his time while pleasuring her, instead of moving so quickly from scenario to scenario. Even now, he wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and taste her in this incredibly erotic position, to savor her and see exactly how much he'd satisfied her.
She was the most beautiful, sensual woman he'd ever met.
He shook his head to clear it. Christ almighty, what an imagination he had! She was simply a client who had hired him to do a job and he had an obligation to do it. That was the basic truth here. Nothing else mattered. He had to stop trying to analyze her reactions to him, stop projecting his own wishes and desires on her.
Still, he couldn't seem to stop his gut from arguing with his head. Was she simply a jaded actress or truly an innocent naïf?
Well, after this next scenario, he'd probably have his answer.
After one last, insistent thrust, Isabella felt Mr. S disengage himself from her body. A moment later, his hands stroked their way gently over her tender backside, and then slowly down her legs as he bent to free her feet from the stirrups. She struggled to straighten from her awkward position across the bar as he walked around to unhook her handcuffs from the wall.
His last words rang ominously in her ears.
You've had your satisfaction twice, but I'm still waiting. That's not fair, is it?
Would he take his satisfaction with her now? Would he finally come? She wondered how he would do it, exactly?
A moment ago, she'd wanted to thank him for bringing her to this huge climax; maybe now she would get her chance. At the very least, it was clear their night of passion wasn't over yet.
She shivered with anticipation. Everything he'd done to her tonight had been shocking, outrageous, beyond anything she'd ever experienced. But with it had also come pleasure she'd never experienced before. Incredible pleasure. So much so that she was willing to let him lead her down whatever road he chose. She would not fight him this time, no matter what he was planning to do to her.
Without saying a word, Mr. S hooked his fingers around the short chain between her handcuffs and guided her for several feet until they came to an abrupt stop.
"Climb up," he ordered.
She reached out and her fingers found a hard structure. A bed? Her hands ran along it, measuring, assessing. No, not a bed, but rather a padded platform of some kind, not quite waist-high. Funny how much she could see just by using her fingertips.
"Up," he said again.
As she obediently climbed onto it on her hand and knees, he grabbed her by the handcuffs, pulling her facedown horizontally across the padded surface, and hooked her cuffs into a latch on the opposite edge of the platform.
And then he left her there to contemplate what was in store for her next.
Logan moved to a side table, reaching for another condom while his eyes roamed appreciatively over the woman on the bed. She was the stuff of every man's fantasy, lying helpless like that, chained as if she were some pagan sacrifice on an altar---his altar---all long legs, firm butt, full breasts and tousled blonde hair. Christ, he was so amped up after their two decadent scenes that if he ran his hand over his cock right now he would come just standing here looking at her.
But she had just added another layer to her mystery. She hadn't protested this time when he'd dragged her to the platform. What did it mean?
He'd know in a moment.
He quickly rid himself of the ribbed condom he'd used with her on the last two scenarios, ripped open the foil and rolled a new, smooth one onto himself. Strawberry flavored, for her pleasure. No, he amended, this next scenario was at her request, but it would be entirely for his pleasure. He allowed himself a small smile, and then moved to stand in front of her.
"Up on your elbows," he ordered.
She tilted her head in question, but did as he asked, propping herself up at the edge of the platform.
Cupping her chin with his hand, he slowly raised her head and stripped the surgical tape from her mouth. She gasped in surprise.
"Now open your mouth."
She did, and he quickly slipped his cock inside it.
She made a small choking sound, but he buried his hands in her hair, holding her head steady as he eased himself slowly out, and then back into her mouth. Letting her get accustomed to the length of him, the thick width of him.
He felt it the instant her throat relaxed, and he eased himself in deeper, wanting to go as deeply as she could take him, even as his heart sank a little in disappointment. So. She really was the experienced woman-of-the-world, and not the naïve schoolgirl. His confusion had been just a flight of fancy, just wishful thinking on his part that she was a rare prize, a fresh, untutored, yet innately sensual woman. As he started to draw out of her mouth to start the slow, stroking motion that would bring him to his climax, he felt her mouth contract around him, trapping him.
He frowned.
What was this? He could feel her lips, the deep suction of her mouth holding him immobile, and he experienced a moment of pure panic, thinking back to how she'd tried to kick him in the balls earlier. Had he just put himself at grave physical risk by giving her access to the most vulnerable part of himself? Hell.
He was about to jerk himself out of her mouth when he felt her slowly start to suck on him. Logan paused, waiting. These were not the strokes he expected, not the long, deep strokes a man expects during oral sex. No, this was something else entirely. They were quick, short, sharp jolts of pleasure. She was sucking him as a baby might suck its thumb. Strong, hard and fast. Her mouth was like a vise around him, a tight fit that trapped him with pleasure. Christ almighty, he'd never felt anything like this.
She continued to suck him hard. He could feel the head of his cock pressing against the back of her throat, the underside of his shaft caressed by her soft tongue, while the roof of her mouth worked magic everywhere else.
He moaned loudly as she continued her unusual but highly effective assault on him. He twitched, he shuddered and he shook, completely unable to control the powerful reactions of his body. His hands fisted tightly in her hair, and he held on for dear life as her mouth drove him more and more wild. Was this pure instinct on her part, or had she learned this amazing technique somewhere else?
Absurdly, he didn't want to consider she might have learned this from someone else.
God help him, but he wasn't going to last more than a minute if she continued like this. His breathing was ragged, choppy, and his heart raced uncontrollably. His cock was literally on the verge of exploding. Ironic how the tables had turned so completely in just the last minute. She was still technically at his mercy, but she was the one who definitely had the power over him at this moment.
Desperate to give himself the maximum amount of pleasure from this amazing experience, he reached frantically for her breasts, and stroked them hard as his control broke and he came in her mouth in wave after wave of fierce, jolting, earth-shaking pleasure.
Bloody hell. Long after tonight was over, Logan knew he would never forget this woman's amazing mouth.
Isabella tried her best not to choke as Mr. S pushed his cock deeply down her throat one last time.
Had she done this right? He'd obviously come, but he still seemed to be hard as a rock. Had she given him half as much pleasure as he'd given her?
Had she thanked him as well as she'd wanted to?
He pulled out of her mouth and she heard him fall to his knees, panting, struggling to catch his breath. He laid his forehead on her shoulder, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck. The sensation was sweet, intimate, almost as if he had taken his pleasure in her mouth and was now taking comfort in her shoulder. It swelled her heart unexpectedly, and sent her mind off on another little fantasy. If they were boyfriend and girlfriend, she would definitely want him to collapse onto her shoulder just like this after they'd had sex. She would wrap him gently in her arms and hold him close.
He stayed nestled against her neck until his breathing returned to normal.
"That was---incredible," he groaned into her ear, his voice raspy. "Unbelievable."
She felt pleased that she could satisfy someone obviously so well versed as he was in sex games, but she wished she didn't have this damned blindfold on---she wanted to see what satisfaction looked like in his amazing blue eyes. Instead, she smiled and gently rubbed her cheek against his head, careful not to answer him, for fear it might remind him that he had removed her gag.
Eventually, though, he raised his head and got to his feet.
She sighed. If this was the end of their night together, then she was glad that at least it had been a mutually satisfying experience. With a twinge of sadness, she waited to hear the words announcing that their time was over.
But once again he surprised her.
"This next one's for you, sweetheart," he said, with an odd sound of promise in his voice. "Just give me a minute for a slight change of plans."
Next one?
Isabella's head jerked up, but the silence told her that Mr. S had already moved away. Maybe even left the room. She strained to hear, but there was no sound from him at all.
She could hardly believe his words. There was going to be another session? How many had Mr. S's mysterious woman paid for? How many times in one night could any woman conceivably have sex, for goodness sake? Or a man, for that matter?
Wait a minute. Mr. S had still been hard when he'd pulled out of her mouth. Even after he'd come. They'd had sex three different ways, and he wasn't flagging at all. She shook her head in wonder. His profession as a gigolo must require immense amounts of stamina. Either that, or she really excited him.
She smiled at the incongruity of a gorgeous stud like Mr. S being sexually excited by staid little Isabella Tallin.
The smile that played on her lips reminded her that he'd left her mouth ungagged. As if he trusted her now. Good. She trusted him enough not to fight him anymore. She no longer thought of screaming for help, or trying to convince him he'd picked up the wrong woman. Because, ironically, he'd picked up the right woman. Not at the beginning, of course, but she had freely decided that she wanted to be here, wanted to enjoy this one wild night of passion, to savor everything he did to her.
Like call her sweetheart.
That endearment was obviously meant for her, since Isabella knew Mr. S didn't even know the real woman who'd paid for this little night of pleasure. The word tumbled tenderly around in her head. Sweetheart. She wondered if he'd even been aware he'd said it.
Isabella sighed. After tonight, there was no way she'd ever be able to go back to Jeff, to the tame, unexciting relationship she had with him. Even if her night with Mr. S was a one-time-only thing, this amazing stranger had somehow managed to show her exactly how much was missing in her love life.
This next one's for you, sweetheart.
Obviously there was something else missing that he meant to teach her. Now where had he gone off to?
Funny, but despite the fact Mr. S had left the room, Isabella wasn't even tempted to lean her head down toward her handcuffs so that her fingers could pull off her blindfold. No. She didn't want to see anything now. She didn't want to ruin whatever salacious surprise Mr. S had in store for her next. She was enjoying this decadent night way too much.
What could he possibly have in mind that they hadn't yet tried?
The thought sent a sudden wave of heat to her face.
Good lord, she hardly recognized herself. After a lifetime of modesty and reserve, how had she gotten so brazen in just the last hour?
Logan paced in the small room, waiting for the disapproving reaction he knew would come from the two men standing in front of him.
"You can't change the rules like this," Max objected.
Logan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Listen to me. She's not what I---she's not what we expected." He looked at the two men in the soundproof room, only peripherally aware of the fact that he was standing there stark naked while his friends were fully clothed. "For Christ's sake, you must have seen her reactions for yourselves."
Max glowered at him, and then shot a look over Logan's shoulder through the huge picture window to the naked woman lying on the bed. "She ordered three men," he reminded Logan in a low growl.
Logan threw a glance at Scott, who appeared to be waiting patiently to hear all that Logan had to say before offering his own comments. These were his two best men, the only ones Logan would trust with this next scenario. Surely they'd listen to his reasoning.
"She'll get three men," Logan assured them. "But not exactly in the usual way."
Max glanced back at him. "Logan, when a woman orders three men from our menu of options," he said sarcastically, "it's to fill her three orifices. She knows what she wants. She booked this scenario."
"Yes, but---"
"You don't usually participate in these games, Logan. Rule number one is never to get emotionally involved with a client."
"I am not emotionally involved."
"Liar," Max accused quietly, eyeing Logan's groin.
It was a lie, and Logan knew it, but not because his cock was still blatantly erect. "It's not emotional," he said again, trying to explain his feelings, to himself as well as his friends. "There's---there's just something about her. Something not quite what we expected."
"Is that why you haven't re-gagged her?" Max asked. "She asked to be gagged, remember. And why use surgical tape and not a regular gag ball?"
Logan shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't imagine using an S&M gag on her.
"Listen," Max said, putting a hand on Logan's shoulder. "I know you own the company, but what's the purpose of Fantasies Fulfilled? Why does it exist? It's to give women the right to choose their own pleasures, right? Think about it! This woman chose our most decadent scenarios. She asked for three men. Our job is to give the client what she wants. Whatever she wants, with no judgments on our part. She's paid for it."
Logan couldn't deny that. Still, the thought of three men filling her like Max suggested didn't sit well with him. Even if she'd ordered it.
Damn it. He was just no good at this. Despite protesting he was not emotionally involved here, the thought of sharing the incredible woman in the next room made his stomach tighten into knots. He knew she'd requested three men---and he wanted to respect her wishes---but as for the specifics of the act, he had something much more pleasant than Max's scenario in mind. At least, he hoped she'd think so.
"Logan," said Scott, finally offering his opinion. "It's Max's prick that's talking here. He's been waiting for this moment since he saw how enthusiastically she responded to what you were doing to her. He's ready and willing to give her exactly what she's asked for." He gave Max a brief scowl, then turned back to Logan. "But Max is right about one thing. You own this company. So this is your call. You've been with the client for the last hour. You know her better than we do. Tell us what you want us to do."
Logan let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "That's just it," he explained. "She's not as hard, not as calloused as I expected. This all seems like a surprise to her, even though, as Max says, she ordered all of it. I know our job is to please her, and I believe we can do that with the three of us, just not exactly in the usual way."
"Logan," Max warned. "You're setting a dangerous precedent here."
Logan shook his head. "No. We have the option to be flexible with the scenario if the situation warrants it, right? She opted for three men, but her application didn't spell out exactly how she wanted them. Just like she didn't spell out exactly how she wanted to be punished. And my gut says I'm right about this next scenario."
Max made a sound that spoke his disapproval. Logan ignored it.
"Take off your shirts, both of you."
As they did, Logan proceeded to explain to them the version of the scenario he had in mind. And even Max finally agreed, once Logan described the part he'd play in it.
A series of quiet sounds across the room let Isabella know that Mr. S had returned. Odd, but he seemed to be making a lot of noise for just one person. She tilted her head to try to follow his movements, and heard him stop near the head of the platform. The soft tearing of foil told her that he was rolling on another condom, which meant that he would be penetrating her again. How would he do it this time?
A shiver of excitement raced through her body. Since she was lying on her stomach, chained to the platform, would he take her from behind?
She heard a shuffling of feet, and then she felt him unhook her handcuffs. She frowned. Oh well, that was one new experience she obviously wouldn't be indulging in tonight. Still, he seemed to have an endless supply of tricks...
He gently rolled her over onto her back and positioned her in the center of the platform before lifting her hands over her head and locking the handcuffs to a latch in the wall.
A moment later, he walked to the bottom of the padded platform, captured one of her ankles with his hand and pulled her body taut. She jerked her leg in surprise, but his grip on it was strong. He spread her tightly across the bed and then methodically tied each of her ankles to the corners of the platform with ropes.
She sucked in a breath. She'd been defenseless and at his mercy before, but this time was different. This was absolute vulnerability. She was spread eagle and helpless. Without a gag, she was free to open her mouth to protest, so why was she hesitating?
Because she wanted this. Wanted to experience everything the woman who'd booked this event had ordered. Wanted to take part in all the sexual things other women knew about and enjoyed, things she'd never dared try in her boring, staid life. And most of all, she wanted to experience them with this man.
This next one's for you, he'd said.
Her skin tingled all over with a combination of excitement and nerves.
She felt his presence by the side of the bed. His fingertips made soft contact with her cheek, then slowly worked a path down the side of her face and along her jawline to her chin, coming up to rest on her mouth. His index finger stroked slowly around her lips, gently tracing their outline, around and around, and then slid along the crease where her two lips met. She was afraid to breathe, afraid to break the sensuous spell he wove. She didn't know what her part was in this game, or even whether she had a part in it. Did he want her to open her lips and allow him entrance to her mouth? Or pull that finger into her mouth and suck on it like she had his cock?
"Shh," he whispered, as if he'd read her mind. "Just relax and enjoy."
So she did. She let out the breath she'd been holding, and concentrated on what he was doing to her body, her skin. Her nerve endings jumped to life as his fingers moved slowly down the side of her neck, across her collarbone, down her chest, and to the valley between her breasts. His fingertips slid to the base of one breast and traced a tantalizing circle, moving slowly higher, to the crest. It was decadent, wonderful torture. By the time he reached the tip, she could feel what he could feel---that her nipple had hardened to a taut, eager little peak. He let his fingertip rest lightly there on top of her tight bud for a minute, not moving, silently showing her his power over her body, but refusing to give her what she wanted, which was his hand wrapped possessively around her breast, his mouth, lips and tongue on her nipple. She arched her back, begging for more contact, but he slowly pulled his hand away, and she dropped back onto the mattress, panting, frustrated.
"Just relax," he whispered again. "It'll be better this way."
He began a repeat of the slow torture on her other breast, but she held still this time and took what pleasure he gave her, knowing he was the one in charge of this little game. And after his fingers had worked her second nipple into an equally frustrated peak as her other, they drifted slowly down her body, exploring her lazily, dipping into her navel, and making her squirm as they moved lower to thread their way through her tight curls.
With her legs spread wide, she was completely open to his confident hands. She held her breath in anticipation, but he didn't really touch her there, only skimmed over her lightly, briefly dipping into her wetness, teasing her, making her body arch up with need once again. He pulled his hand away and she moaned her frustration. She was on fire, her body primed for his touch, wet and ready for him, yet he refused to give her any satisfaction. Instead, his fingers moved down to trail along the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh as she tried to get her breathing back under control.
What was this game? He'd said relax and enjoy, but how could she enjoy it when he wasn't giving her what her body most desperately craved? Before, there had been no languorous foreplay, he had always been insistent about getting right to the sex. There'd never been a doubt that intercourse was the final goal. This time was different. Mr. S had primed her body, but wasn't making use of it. It was frustrating as hell. His fingers were at her ankle now, and he gave a little tug to spread her legs even wider, before his hand left her completely and she heard him move back up to stand by the top of the bed.
"Are you ready?" he asked quietly.
She was more than ready, dammit. She wanted him to take her. Now! Her breath came in ragged gasps and she nodded her head desperately.
"Are you sure you want it?"
What, did he want her to beg for it? Was that the point of this torture? "Yes," she hissed.
He gave a little growl low in his throat, and tilted her chin with his index finger, forcing her head up and back into the mattress.
And then he kissed her.
The kiss was a total shock---a slow, drugging, leisurely exploration of her entire mouth with his tongue. So intimate. So personal. So---confusing. It was like they'd crossed some imaginary line here, from the merely physical to something else. Something more.
He broke away from her briefly. "I wish I could taste myself on your lips."
Isabella trembled. Mr. S wished he'd come in my mouth and not the condom. The thought of sharing his taste was incredibly intimate, and yet at the same time amazingly erotic.
Then he continued the kiss, nipping her, sucking her, probing her with his tongue. She was drowning in this kiss, trying to keep up with the luxurious sensations he evoked---the pleasure-pain of his tiny bites, the wet slide of his lips, the deep invasion of his tongue---when suddenly she felt his mouth on her breast.
Yes! She thrust up eagerly to meet those lips. Finally, finally, her taut nipple was getting the attention it had been craving. He was sucking her nipple with his lips, laving it with his tongue, scraping it gently with his teeth. But---wait a minute---Mr. S was still kissing her. There was another mouth on her breast! She tensed and frantically tried to break away from the kiss, but Mr. S gripped her chin firmly in his hand and drew his lips away.
"Relax," he coaxed. "This may not be exactly what you expected, but I guarantee it will be all about your pleasure..."
Not what she expected? Her mind raced suddenly back to what she'd said to him before entering this room.
Where are the others?
They're waiting for you.
Oh, God! She'd been asking about her fellow pledges---the other girls---when all along he'd thought she'd been talking about other guys?
She was stunned speechless, and felt herself blushing a furious red. She opened her mouth to try to say something---what?---but Mr. S quickly covered her lips with his own and started weaving that sensual spell on her again. And despite her shock, she couldn't deny the pleasure she was feeling. That second mouth was sucking hard on her nipple now, pulling on her, sending fire shooting straight from her breast directly to her belly, and lower still. And his hand---or was that Mr. S's hand?---was playing with her other breast, twisting her taut peak, not wanting it to feel left out.
Now that the shock of having two men pleasuring her had passed, she could feel every tug on her nipples send corresponding shivers of delight right down between her legs. And the rhythmic thrust of Mr. S's tongue in her mouth made her legs fall even farther apart, making her long for attention there. For fingers spreading her wide, exposing her, yes, just like that, her sex wet and swollen, in anticipation of a delicious onslaught from his mouth. Ahhh. That felt so good. What a clever tongue he had!
But her body almost came up off the bed when she realized there was actually a third man there, nestled between her legs.
Mr. S swallowed her shock with another deep kiss and a whisper. "Relax."
Without hesitation, the third mouth licked her sex---a long, slow, drag of his tongue, all the way from bottom to top. And then he began exploring her in earnest. He left no part of her untouched, unravished, unaffected, even delving deep into her body with long, sinewy strokes of that silky tongue.
Isabella's body shook with sensation. Her wrists strained against her handcuffs, but there was nothing she could do. Not that she wanted to do anything. This was scandalous, shocking, salacious beyond belief. A sinful, wicked seduction. Three men? But she would never have this opportunity again in her life. She threw her inhibitions out the window and gave herself over into the hands of these experts.
She wanted this.
And when she began to allow herself to respond to it all, Mr. S pulled back from her mouth and asked quietly, "Tell me how it feels..."
The pleasure was so intense that she couldn't speak. Her head kept arching back into the mattress and she could scarcely catch her breath.
"Tell me," he insisted.
How could she possibly describe what these men were doing to her? It was so intimate, so graphic.
"Tell me."
"Tongues---" she gasped. "Oh, God. One rough velvet tongue, scraping me gently, licking my breasts, sucking my nipples, tasting me."
"More."
"Fingers. Urging my nipples into tight little peaks. Pinching, twisting, pulling at them. Oh, that's so good..." She gasped and moaned, thrashing her head against the mattress as the fingers happily obeyed her.
"More," Mr. S demanded.
She sucked in a breath. "With my ankles tied, I'm trapped. Helpless. I can't get away from that mouth between my legs. But I don't want to get away from it---no, my hips are thrusting eagerly toward it. I can't stop myself---oh, God, I want that mouth! My body wants more contact with that mouth. I'm desperate for everything that mouth can do to me. Ahhhh...yes!"
The mouth in question responded to her demand, finding her sensitive little bud, urgently pulling at it with his lips, roughly tonguing her, gently nipping with his teeth while she felt a finger slip inside her. She gasped and bucked her hips again, taking two fingers, then three, deep inside her. The fingers curled to stroke her from the inside, until she simply couldn't deny the intensity of the feelings---the sweet attack on every sensitive part of her body, all at the same time.
"Oh...oh...oh God! Please..."
"Yes. Give us control, sweetheart. Let go of your body and come for us."
No sooner were the decadent words out of Mr. S's mouth when she climaxed violently, her body jerking and spasming, shuddering and convulsing in wave after wave of incredible pleasure. She screamed her release, and he leaned down to kiss her and took it all---all of her pleasure---right into his own mouth.
She must have fallen asleep, boneless, exhausted, sated beyond any past experience. When she stirred, she was still on the platform, but she was no longer handcuffed, and no longer blindfolded. Even the ropes around her ankles had been removed, as had her blouse and bra, which had both been hanging open throughout the evening.
Sitting at her side was the gorgeous Mr. S, smiling down at her. As naked as she was. Her lover, whose name she didn't even know.
She gasped suddenly and looked around the room.
"Don't worry," he said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "They're gone."
She exhaled in relief. "How long was I out?"
"About half an hour."
"Swooned from the passion, like those heroines in romance novels, eh?"
He laughed, a low, sexy sound from deep in his throat. She decided she liked his laugh. In fact, she liked a lot of things about this man. His kiss. His magnificent cock. Just to name two.
"This is breaking every rule in the book, you know," he said.
She frowned. "What is?"
"The fact that you're still here. Our session is up. You should be on your way home." He grimaced.
She should tell him right now. Tell him that she was the wrong woman, not his scheduled client. Instead, she laid a tentative hand on his forearm, afraid to interpret that frowning expression on his face, afraid to give in to that little kernel of hope, and what it might mean. "So then why am I still here?"
"I didn't want to wake you," he said, and then shrugged. "I didn't--- Ah hell, I just didn't want you to go."
Her heart picked up speed. "Why not?" She needed to hear his reason.
He turned his face away from her, and took a deep breath. "I'm not good at this," he warned.
"Oh, I'd say you're very good at it," she contradicted, a purr in her voice.
He gave a bark of laughter and turned back to her. "I mean, I'm not good at explanations. I'm not even sure of the rationale myself." He smiled into her eyes. "But see? This is just it. You're nothing like what I expected. Nothing like your profile led me to believe. Halfway through tonight's session I wanted---"
"Wanted what?"
He stared at her intently, but didn't say anything.
"You wanted what?" she prodded gently, barely breathing.
"I no longer wanted to fuck you, but to make love to you," he ground out. "This stopped being a job for me."
Her body shuddered at that amazing revelation---the gorgeous Mr. S, wanting her of his own free will? Wanting naïve Isabella Tallin? It was almost impossible to believe. She closed her eyes briefly, and swallowed hard against her own rising feelings.
"I know," he agreed, obviously misinterpreting her reaction. "I'm way out of line here. We had an agreement. A contract." He shook his head, as if disgusted with himself. "I haven't even fulfilled it, have I? I didn't give you exactly what you wanted---"
"I'll tell you what I want," she said slowly, looking up into his amazing blue eyes.
"A refund?"
"Not a refund. Something much more important."
"What?" He raised one eyebrow in question.
"I want---to touch you."
His face went deathly still. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his cock, still wearing its condom, jerk to attention. "If you do," he rasped, "I can't vouch for the consequences."
"I want the consequences," she vowed. "I want you to make love to me."
Now it was his turn to shudder and swallow hard. "Who are you, really?" His eyes reflected his confusion, his vulnerability, his doubt.
She slid her hand slowly from his forearm up to his biceps. "Relax and enjoy," she whispered silkily, offering his own words back to him.
He groaned, and allowed her to push him down next to her on the platform bed.
Isabella's heart soared. He'd done it. He'd ceded the same control he'd demanded from her earlier. It was an incredible gesture of trust. The gorgeous Mr. S was hers to do with as she pleased.
He was spread out alongside her like a banquet to be savored, and Isabella's mouth watered as her hungry eyes looked him over. Broad chest, covered lightly with black hair. Muscled biceps and forearms that had held her so tightly tonight. Flat plane of a stomach that narrowed to a slim waist, and beckoned her farther down his body to where his amazing cock stood rigid and ready. And below that, his strong thighs, which had held her up while they'd had sex that first time.
Her head spun. With all this perfection laid out before her, where did she start?
Logan held his breath, waiting for the first contact of her fingers. God, he wanted this so badly he'd even rolled on a condom at the start of the last scenario, when there'd been no possibility of anything other than kissing her.
Kissing her.
A major violation in his trade.
None of his men were allowed to kiss their clients. It was too personal, crossed the strict line of what his company represented---which was the business of pleasure. Not to mention that kissing tended to screw with everybody's emotions.
And, as Max had been so quick to point out, rule number one was never to get emotionally involved with a client.
But Logan wanted to kiss this woman, and he'd rationalized it to himself as being the only thing a third man could do to please her, considering that he and his men weren't following the usual ménage scenario. Of course, he could have concentrated on one of her breasts while Scott had the other one, but...
He gasped out loud as her fingertips finally made contact with his skin and began a slow exploration of his chest, dragging leisurely through his fine hair toward his nipple. She circled it warily, as if waiting to see how he would respond. He held his breath, concentrating on the languid pleasure as the circle slowly contracted, getting smaller and smaller, until her fingertip reached his tiny tip. Exactly as he had done to her less than an hour ago. His nipple tightened in anticipation, and she flicked her fingernail over it, causing him to jerk in response to the sharp pleasure. But that was nothing compared to the exquisite rasp of her tongue across his hard peak a moment later, or the incredible wet heat of her mouth as she closed around it and began to suck at him, hard.
Every nerve ending in his body suddenly seemed centered in his chest. God, he couldn't breathe. With every strong pull of her mouth, he could feel his cock jerk hard in an elemental response. Was this what she felt when he sucked on her nipple, this primal answering call between her legs?
He moaned deeply with pleasure, and buried his hands in her hair as he held her tighter against his chest. But he needn't have worried---she wasn't through with him yet. She abruptly changed direction and began to move her mouth from side to side against him, causing a whole different kind of friction against his super-sensitized nipple.
His body convulsed, and he nearly came right then and there.
He wrenched her head away, and struggled desperately to catch his breath. But she seemed undeterred, languidly moving her lips farther down his chest, and then across his stomach, deliberately taking her time, leaving hot, wet kisses in her wake.
She stopped when she came to his belly, laying her cheek against him there, and snaking out a hand to grasp his cock. She gently squeezed him and he inhaled sharply, wishing he didn't have to wear this damned condom. He was more aroused than he'd ever been in his life, and he wanted to feel her silky skin caressing his naked flesh. But that was one rule he would not break. For her protection as well as his own.
Her hand took the measure of him, smoothing its way slowly down over the latex, and then sliding beneath to cup his balls. He spread his legs to allow her better access, to savor the feeling, and her finger slipped behind his tight sac to the base of his shaft.
He gasped. Whether by accident or design, she had found his own personal pleasure point, the spot that would send him over the edge quicker than any man would like to admit.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, rolling her onto her back. "My turn to touch," he growled.
"But you've touched me all night," she protested quietly.
"Not like this," he swore, shaking his head. "Not like this."
He took a moment to study her body, seeing it in a new light. A possessive light. If possible, she was even more beautiful than he'd originally thought.
His hand skimmed reverently over her breasts, down her stomach, coming to rest on her hip. His lips followed, laying light nips and kisses along the path his hand had taken, as she had done. He delighted in the little gasps and shudders that his touch produced in her. God, she was so honest in her reactions, so responsive! It felt like there were no games here, no false pretenses between them, a stark contrast to the fact that his entire business was built on games and pretense.
This is why he had never participated in the scenarios booked by clients until tonight. Diane was right---his company fulfilled a certain need and purpose, but he much preferred this, the honest emotion of two people who wanted each other.
And he desperately wanted this woman.
Make love to me, she'd said.
His head spun in anticipation as his hand moved from her hip to thread his fingers into her soft curls. She sighed and spread her legs to give him greater access. She was hot, wet, and ready for him---God, so beautiful!---but he took his time, running his index finger teasingly along her secret lips, sliding around her little bud before moving down, where he sank two fingers deeply inside her body.
She moaned and shuddered as he slowly plundered her, in and out, priming her for his cock. Her head ground back into the mattress, and her hips bucked to take his fingers deeper. "God, how can you stand it?" she gasped as he sank into her for the third time.
He frowned. "Stand what?"
"Not being inside me!"
His breath stopped and his body shook at her words, and his own answer came out on a ragged groan. "The answer is I can't. I can't stand it."
The moment was finally here. She obviously wanted him as much as he wanted her. His heart turned over in his chest.
He moved over her, positioning himself between her legs, his cock at the entrance to her body. "Look at me," he ordered. "Look into my eyes. I want you to watch me make love to you."
Her eyes had been cloudy and distant, focused inwardly on her pleasure, but at his command, she blinked once and fastened her gaze on his face. He knew what he must look like to her---a man struggling for control, in desperate need of release. He could feel the sweat on his brow, the tension written on his forehead. But he would make this the best orgasm yet for her tonight, or die trying.
He propped himself on his elbows, laying his forearms alongside her upper arms, placing his fingertips around her shoulders so that he could hold her body firmly in place while he entered her. While his body rocked them both to climax.
It was an incredibly intimate moment. The way he held her was almost akin to a hug, and when he finally entered her it felt oddly like this was the first time ever. He went slowly so that she could feel every powerful inch of him, and so that he could see every emotion she was feeling. He memorized the way her pupils dilated with pleasure, the breathy shallowness of her excited breathing, the way her mouth fell open slightly in surprise at the slow buildup of sensations. Her stimulation was clear in her every reaction, and he felt an inordinate pride in pleasing her, more so than in anything else he'd done tonight.
He smiled down at her and was rewarded with a brilliant smile in return. He sucked in a ragged breath. God, she was so beautiful, this moment so perfect. He wanted to remember it forever.
Without thinking, he leaned down to kiss her.
She opened her mouth to him easily, as she'd opened her body, and he took it as he'd taken her, with this newfound sense of possession. He wanted to know all of her, explore all of her, and he let his tongue lazily investigate her, delving into all her nooks and crannies, discovering the sensitive spot on the inside of her lips, tangling with her tongue. And when she demanded equal access to his own mouth, he gave it to her gladly, with a contented sigh. Christ, had he ever shared so much of himself with a woman he barely knew?
When the kiss ended they were both breathless, smiling into each other's eyes. But something else was quick to claim his attention.
He'd seated himself to the hilt inside her, and now his body was restless to move. He slowly pulled out of her, and then slid back in again, purposely dragging his body against her this time, his chest rubbing against her breasts, his groin brushing along her clitoris, giving her as much stimulation as he could while his cock possessed her again.
She groaned in pleasure and her head arched back into the mattress, but she immediately brought her eyes back to him. Eyes that now glittered. Wild. Asking him---no, begging him---for something.
And he knew exactly what that something was. After all, his own body demanded the same thing.
He moaned low in his throat, and began to move in earnest this time. He propped himself up on his hands for a better angle, and her fingers slid around his waist and ran lightly up and down his back, feeling his hot skin, encouraging him.
He captured her gaze with his and reminded her to watch him, to look at him while he brought them both to pleasure. Her eyes met his challenge and locked onto his, giving him a view into her soul, sharing everything she was feeling. He drove into her, over and over, watching the pleasure build on her face as she thrust her hips up to take him as deeply as she could, while her fingers sank into his buttocks to pull him even closer. He could sense the buildup of her body as well as something else---her heart?---almost as if the sensation were his own. Or maybe it was his own. And when she gasped and tensed, ready to explode, he gave her one last, determined thrust and then let go of his own control. They climaxed together, watching each other in awed astonishment as it happened.
As the waves of pleasure rolled over him, Logan realized he had never felt anything so powerful in all his life.
He collapsed onto her shoulder, gently kissing her neck, smiling as he felt her arms slip around to hold him close.
Isabella didn't want this magical night to end.
Mr. S's body was like a warm blanket covering hers, comforting her after their amazing climax. Lying so intimately together like this was the perfect ending to making love with him, with his warm breath tickling her neck as he relaxed against her.
She sighed contentedly.
He shifted in her arms, rolling over onto his back and taking her with him, easing her head onto his shoulder. But despite the snug position, Isabella could tell that something had changed. His breathing sped up. One of his hands was shoved behind his head. He was staring intently at the ceiling, frowning.
His mood had changed.
Oh dear. Time to come clean, Bella. 'Fess up.
She cleared her throat and ran a hand lightly over his chest. "Do you do this---what we did---with all the pledges for Sigma Iomega Nu?" she asked with a teasing note in her voice.
He turned his head and looked at her. "What?"
"The Sigma Iomega Nu initiates," she repeated lightly. "Do you do this with all of them?"
He frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You mean this isn't all part of the sorority initiation?"
He actually laughed. "Now that would be an interesting tradition." But the smile faded from his face as it dawned on him what she might be saying. "Wait a minute. You paid for this. Fantasies Fulfilled. You picked out four fantasies from our list of services and paid my company to fulfill them."
Her eyes widened at that bit of information. He worked for an actual company that did this?
"No, I didn't," she corrected gently. "I was told by my future sorority sisters at Sigma Iomega Nu to wait at the corner of Main and Elm streets tonight and that I would be picked up. But they wouldn't tell me by whom. I figured it was all part of their super secret sorority initiation. If you remember, I asked you right at the beginning about the others---my fellow pledges---and you said they were waiting for me here in this room." She shrugged. "I couldn't understand how this could be part of the rite, but all initiations are so secretive---"
"I meant that the other men were waiting here! That was a very specific request on the form you filled out."
She shook her head deliberately. "I didn't fill out any form. I'm pledging the Sigma Iomega Nu sorority."
"No," he rasped. "It's not possible."
She smiled wryly and nodded. "It's true. Remember---I fought you at the beginning."
"But---but I asked you. Before we started any of this, I insisted that you admit you wanted me, wanted this, and you agreed. I only thought you struggled because you wanted me to punish you, which was another one of your---the fantasies scheduled for tonight. I would never force any woman to have sex."
"I did agree," she admitted readily. "Because by that point I realized this wasn't the initiation and it wasn't rape---"
He sucked in a sharp breath. "Rape? God, no! Never."
"Exactly. I figured you were some sort of gigolo, but I never thought you worked for an actual company that does this!"
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why on earth did you agree to let me go through with it?"
Isabella wanted to look away from the searching intensity she saw in his eyes, but she knew he deserved an answer and she desperately wanted to tell him the truth.
"Because my life is---rigid, regimented, regulated. Already neatly laid out. The law degree, to follow in my mother's footsteps. The boyfriend my parents have known since childhood. I feel trapped by it all. I'm only twenty-one---"
"Christ!" he interrupted, dragging a hand roughly through his hair. "You're twenty-one? The application said... I never should have... Twenty-one? My God, the things I did to you!"
She laid a hand on his arm. "I'm twenty-one," she repeated, "perfectly of age. And I wanted everything you did to me. My life is already one of quiet desperation. Do you know what that's like? I took one look at you tonight and saw---"
"Saw what?"
She turned her head.
"Tell me," he insisted.
"Danger," she answered. "Excitement. Passion. A gorgeous guy and outrageous sex. I wanted that." She turned back to him. "But then..."
"But then?"
"Then it changed to something else. I wanted you." She looked hopefully into his eyes.
He grimaced and turned away.
His reaction cut her to the quick. So. He obviously didn't feel the same way about her. The tenderness between them a moment ago had been nothing but an illusion, the emotion she'd felt just a delusion. Wishful thinking on her part. There was no hope for a future with him, as if there could ever be a future for a sexually naïve college girl and a professional male gigolo. Ludicrous. Asinine. But for a moment tonight, she really thought she'd felt a connection with him.
And she would be forever grateful that on this last time they'd had sex, she'd been able to look him in the eye and see the incredible look of pleasure on his face when he came. She sighed.
"Why?" she asked quietly, giving him the same question he'd thrown at her a minute ago.
"Why what?"
"Tell me why you work for this company, Fantasies Fulfilled." At least she could find out what kind of a man he really was. She would like to understand something about him before they parted.
His jaw clenched. "I own the company."
She sucked in a surprised breath.
"It was my sister Diane's idea---" he put in quickly.
"Your sister? You have a sister named Diane?"
He nodded.
"She---she doesn't by any chance belong to the Sigma Iomega Nu sorority, does she?"
"No. I can assure you this is not part of your initiation ritual."
Isabella let out a breath. Diane. Too weird that her would-be sorority sister and his real-life sister shared the same name. That had been a big reason for the confusion earlier tonight. Still, the idea that Fantasies Fulfilled was his sister's idea was just unbelievable. "Why on earth would your sister want you to be a gigolo?"
Logan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I grew up in a houseful of women. I---I guess I understand women, at least as much as any man really can. When Diane's marriage broke up, she dated for a year, but it was always the same complaint from her---men don't take the time to please women. It was the same in her marriage. Fantasies Fulfilled was her concept, but she insisted that it needed a man as its figurehead. An evolved male, as she described it. Me.
"I fought the idea for a while, but she brought me research, organized informal focus groups with her girlfriends, and everything supported what she'd said. Even my other sisters agreed with her. It's something men don't want to hear---that we're sexually inadequate, or just plain inconsiderate when it comes to pleasing women. But I guess Diane was right. Fantasies Fulfilled has grown incredibly in the less than a year it's been in existence."
Isabella looked at him. "And you always participate in these fantasies?"
"No!" He blew out a breath, and shook his head firmly. "This one was my first."
"Really? Why now? Why this one?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Well... I had a burning desire to see what a woman who picked such decadent fantasies, who wanted to be serviced by three men, would be like. I never expected it to be someone like you."
"It isn't," she protested, then considered for a moment. "But I can't deny it was the most incredible experience I've ever had."
"It was amazing to see the pleasure on your face," he admitted. "To hear you describe what you were feeling---that was an incredible turn-on for me."
He groaned and ran a hand roughly over his face.
"My God, I picked up the wrong woman. Right street corner, but the wrong woman. I should have known. Things didn't exactly go the way I expected tonight. You were not what I expected. Nothing at all like your application. There's no way a woman as beautiful as you---and with a body like yours---would have trouble getting any man to indulge her fantasies. And I certainly didn't control myself as well as I expected. I wasn't exactly as professional as I could have been."
"What do you mean?"
He looked deeply into her eyes.
"I wasn't detached. You---you did something to me tonight. I've never experienced such intense pleasure. Giving and receiving both. Christ, look at me---I'm hard as a rock again!"
Isabella did look. And he was hard. Even though he hadn't had a chance to remove the condom yet from a moment ago, he seemed primed and ready to go again. And that made her strangely happy for some reason.
"Who are you?" he hissed.
She smiled. "My name is Isabella Tallin. And you?"
"Logan Sommers."
She let out a surprised sound. "Mr. S!"
"What?"
Too funny. He really was Mr. Sexy. Or Mr. Sensual, or Mr. Seductive, or Mr. Sinful. Take your pick. She could go on and on in her salacious descriptions of him. "Um, nothing, never mind." She could feel herself blushing. "Nice to meet you, Logan."
"Same here."
They stared stupidly at each other, and then broke into ironic laughter.
Logan shook his head wryly. "I suppose I'll have to give my real client the refund you refused," he said. "I mean, who would believe there could be two women standing alone on that exact same street corner at eight o'clock on a Tuesday night?"
Isabella felt her stomach clench. "Tuesday?"
Logan nodded.
"Oh, God..."
"What?"
"I'm supposed to be on the corner of Elm and Main on Wednesday night."
Logan blew out a breath. "Well, that makes me feel a little better. At least I didn't totally screw up everything tonight! But I'm probably going to have one pissed-off client."
Isabella shot him a saucy look. "You know... I think it's safe to say I liked this initiation better than anything Sigma Iomega Nu had planned."
"Hmm. Initiating Isabella. Has a nice ring to it. On the other hand---"
"Yes?"
"Sigma Iomega Nu spells out S-I-N, so you never know what they might have in store for you tomorrow."
She sucked in a breath. "I never thought of that!"
He laughed, and then gave her a devastating smile. "Do you think..." he began, then shook his head.
"What?" she asked quietly.
"You said you have a boyfriend."
"I also said I felt trapped by that relationship. Bored with it. My whole life is boring, in fact. Screamingly deadly dull. Boring. I'd be very happy if you could rescue me from it."
He raised an eyebrow. "Well, for a start, do you think we could maybe, like, have a date? Get to know each other a little?"
Isabella's eyebrows reached her hairline. After how well they'd gotten to know each other tonight, the concept of innocent dating seemed totally bizarre. But it was a start, she supposed. A nice, normal start to an anything-but-normal relationship.
"Sure. I'd like that," she agreed. "That is, if you promise not to participate in any future fantasies."
"Unless they're ones we create for ourselves," he amended.
She gave him a slow smile. "Deal."
They sealed the agreement with a kiss.
About the Author
To learn more about Jenna Ives, please visit her website at www.jennaives.com, or send her an email at jenna@jennaives.com!
Look for these titles by Jenna Ives
Binding Ties
Maison Domine, Skylar Kade
Bound by Design, Natasha Moore
Taking bonding and exothermic reactions outside the laboratory...
Maison Domine
© 2009 Skylar Kade
A Binding Ties Story
Organic chemist Lara Brunner is at loose ends. Since childhood, her life has been focused on work and achieving success in her field. Only now, weeks away from her tenure review, she realizes she's pushed herself too far. Casting about for a way to release her stress-crazed body from career tension, she visits a BDSM retreat, hoping a weekend of sexual submission will do the trick.
Inducting her into the lifestyle is her at-work nemesis---Jaxon Greene. But the sinful intent she encounters in Jaxon's sexy eyes makes her heart race with desire...and fear. Gorgeous men like him don't go for zaftig academics like her. Once the fantasy weekend is over and real life returns, he'll forget all about her.
Jaxon is blindsided by his intense attraction to Lara. The more time he spends with her, the stronger their invisible bonds become. Bonds that are stronger and more permanent than any knot he can tie. He's not normally into converting vanilla women to his lifestyle, but something makes him want to cast his inhibitions aside and claim her for his own.
First, though, he has to free her from preconceived notions of proper sex...and love. Warning: This book contains bondage and whips and sexy professors---oh my!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Maison Domine:
Jax felt like a grinning fool. Of late, he'd had no desire to have a submissive of his own. He trained them, and they parted ways amicably. But he had never felt such a draw towards one of them.
Lara was different from the rest, and it unnerved him. But she had expressed no interest in anything beyond training. He tamped down those somewhat unwanted emotions. Sunday would come, and they would see each around campus, and things would be back to normal. He wasn't sure if he was exactly happy about that.
"Lara, do you have any requests? Physical difficulties? Limits to our play?"
Lara looked thoughtful. "I don't think so...Sir." A slight tremor wracked her body when she called him Sir. Jaxon experienced the deepest satisfaction at that realization.
He pulled her into the bedroom behind him, intent to start her training. "We'll begin with the basics, Lara. Kneel. " He sat on the edge of the bed with her in between his legs. The sharp command had her obeying instantly. He straightened her posture, moved her hands behind her back, and spread her knees farther apart. Her short black skirt rode up her thighs and she squirmed, obviously uncomfortable with being exposed like she was. "And you will keep your head up. You have stunning blue eyes. I want to be able to look at them.
"This is your kneeling position. Feel how open you are to me." He threaded his fingers through her silky honey strands. "In this position, I can touch you anywhere I like."
He felt the shiver run through her body. His chest ached from the mere sight of her.
"Now, focus, and listen to me." Lara closed her eyes in meditation. Jax knew many self-professed Dominants thought physical submission was the foundation for BDSM. He believed true submission started in the mind.
Jax stood and walked a circle around her, dragging a finger across her back. "Submission is not easy. I will push your limits, and discipline you, and thoroughly explore your potential. And in return, you will experience incredible highs, physically and mentally, unlike anything you've ever known."
He knelt in front of her, cradling her face in his large hands. "All you have to do is let yourself go." He kissed her, tasting her tentativeness and her desire, as potent as whiskey. He had never before experienced problems with his own discipline, but he almost forgot about training her. All Jax could think about was getting her hot, luscious body under his as quickly as possible.
He pulled out of the kiss, reining in his raging hard-on. A few deep breaths centered Jax enough for him to proceed.
"Stand." Kneeling eye-level to the waistband of her skirt was an incredible temptation. Her eyes were still closed, but jerked open when he wrapped his hands around her ankles.
She looked about to question him, and he preempted her with a brief, "Shhh. Trust me." Her eyes closed again, but he could see how much the gesture cost her.
In his experience, strong women like Lara, even if they were submissive, would never admit to it. Only the most fearless could explore such a duality, being independent and in charge, while still giving up control to someone they trusted. He felt incredibly privileged that she had such faith in him to give up some of her independence.
Jax gently pulled her feet apart as his hands stroked up her calves. He ducked his head to place a smattering of kisses along her knee. He leaned around to lave the back of her left knee, his hands steadying her as a tremor quivered through her body.
Smelling her arousal was almost enough to break down the walls of his hard-won control. He'd bet her panties were damp, but he had never been one to rely on bets. Jax wanted to know for sure.
His fingers trailed up and down her thighs, barely sneaking under the hem of her skirt. She let out a little moan, and Jax glanced up at her to make sure it was a sound of desire. From the look on her face, it could have been nothing else.
He may bind her body, but can he bind her heart?
Bound by Design
© 2009 Natasha Moore
A Binding Ties Story
Jenn spends her days crafting custom-designed slave jewelry, but wear a collar herself? No, thanks. Been there, done that, burned the T-shirt. That whole Master/slave scene was too much of a roller coaster ride. Then Scott, an architect with a dominant side, enters her life. Something about him makes her body come alive with longings for another taste of the lifestyle.
Scott's life fell apart when he tried to deny his dominant tendencies. He's determined to convince Jenn that denying her submissive needs would be a big mistake. Her response is so strong, so sweet, he finds himself falling again and falling apart for the smart and sexy sub.
Suddenly, something he thought he'd never have seems within reach---a forever love tied up in a nice leather bow. But any mention of 24/7 sends Jenn flying away in panic. If any real healing is to take place, he'll need to take a giant step back and design a new approach using ropes, chains...and a whole lot of trust.
Warning: This title features spanking in the garden, sex in the closet, bondage in the bedroom...and just about everywhere else.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Bound by Design:
"I'm attracted to you, Jenn. You may have guessed I have a great interest in bondage myself. In domination and submission. I'm interested in seeing where this night might take us." He released the nipple ring with a jerk and her breast bounced. He caught her gaze and she felt drawn into his presence. "So I have to ask you. Do we continue or do we end this now?"
Did she want to see where this night would go? Her body voted yes. After all, her best friend vouched for him. And she liked him already. He had a sense of humor. He was as sexy as the devil. He knew her secret weakness.
Or should she get the hell out before she got in too deep? Because, already, she could imagine getting in deep with this guy.
She could barely breathe. "I don't know." Jenn winced at the cry in her voice. "I'm sorry. It's just, I wasn't expecting anything like this tonight. I...I'm turned on, yes, but I don't know if I'm ready...if I want to..."
He covered her hand with his. "Why don't you tell me about your experience with bondage?" He slid his hand up and shackled her wrist with his fingers again. "Was it so terrible that you resist it even when your body craves the binding?"
She looked away from him, staring into the shadows surrounding them. She did crave it. The security of the bondage. The freedom of letting go of the control she normally held onto with an iron grip. But she didn't want to lose herself like she did before. Could she bring herself to admit her experiences with Rob?
He cupped her chin and turned her face so he could study her. "Talk to me, Jenn. What are you afraid of?"
"Losing myself," she blurted.
"No, you should never be afraid of losing yourself. You'll find yourself, Jenn, if you surrender to your needs."
She shrugged and looked down at her hands clenched in her lap.
"What happened?" He stroked her hair, soothing her nerves. "Was it recent?" His voice hardened. "Did someone around here treat you badly?"
"No. It was back in college."
He cursed. "A boy playing at being a Dom?"
"I guess. But then I guess I was playing at being a sub." Neither one of them had really known what they were doing. But when it was right, it had been amazing.
"I'm sorry you didn't have a good experience." He kissed her softly. "So basically your body responded even though he didn't treat you right?"
"He didn't always treat me badly," she said, but she shivered as she remembered being tied up and left for hours while he got drunk with his buddies. "I think the power trip got to him."
"A Dom's first consideration always should be his sub," Scott told her. He grasped her shoulders with his strong hands. "I want to show you the way it should be. Let me show you how good it can be, Jenn. Give me the weekend."
"The weekend?" Was he crazy? "I honestly don't know if I want to try bondage again, not even tonight." Although if her body had any say, they'd definitely be having sex tonight, and she probably wouldn't complain if there were ropes involved.
"I can smell your arousal, Jenn. I know your body is aching for a taste of bondage again." He ran his hand up her thigh, dragging the skirt of her dress up with it. "Let me show you the way a Master should treat his slave."
Jenn licked her lips and couldn't move, couldn't speak. Did she want to be his slave, even for one night?
"Let's try something," he said softly, seductively. "If you don't like it, I'll walk away from you and never bother you again." He leaned over her and took one wrist in each hand. "Put your hands behind your back and grasp the slats."
She nodded and leaned forward slightly to let him guide her hands behind her. He curled her fingers around the wood. "Now close your eyes."
Jenn glanced around them and didn't see anyone else nearby. Darkness was falling around them. She looked up at Scott, he was already difficult to see except for that white shirt. What would it matter if she closed her eyes?
"Jenn," he said in a tone that told her he didn't like to repeat himself. "Close your eyes."
She closed her eyes and held on tight. Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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