Bound to be Dirty (10 page)

He stood and came around the table. His big, strong fingers stroked short hair away from one cheek, traced the rim of her ear, gently tugged on her earring. Then he gripped her chin firmly. “That's for me to know. The moment you want me to stop, you know the word to say.”

It was too soon. They should discuss what games they were both okay with. He shouldn't just take charge this way.

Except, wasn't that what had excited her last night? Trusting Dax to control what they did, to control her pleasure? Giving up the need to always think, plan, be responsible for every damn thing?

“Do you accept my rules?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes,
master
.”

Seriously? And yet, she supposed this was what she'd opted in to. “Yes, master.”

“Very good. Now get that scarf and bring it to the living room.”

Ten

D
ax used the ice dispenser on the fridge and put a bowl of cubes in the freezer, then tidied up the dinner leftovers and put the dishes in the dishwasher.

Maybe there was hope for him and Lily. If that hope began with sex games, he had a fantasy or ten he'd be happy to play out with her. Maybe she'd confess to some fantasies of her own that he could indulge. He wasn't fool enough to think the only problem with their marriage was sex, but it might be the easiest to fix. If they could bring the spark back to their love life, maybe the rest would follow.

“Dax?” she called from the living room. And then, “I mean, master?”

Master
. No, it didn't sound right. It reminded him of Neville. He strode to the other room to join her. She had her back to him and was reaching out to pull the blinds.

“Don't.”

“I was just—”

“Don't.” He moved the leather recliner back from the window, facing it. “Sit here.”

She obeyed, and he took the scarf. “Don't call me master, call me Falcon.” It was a nickname he'd become known by among his colleagues.

Her eyebrows lifted. “Yes, Falcon. If I may say, the name suits you.” She put her hands on the arms of the chair, likely waiting for him to bind one of them.

“I'm going to blindfold you.”

Her eyes flared with surprise, then a touch of panic. “You could just pull the blinds and turn out the light.”

“I want the light on. I'll be able to see and you won't.”

“But the window. If you don't pull the blinds, then—”

“We face the ocean. It's not likely anyone can see in.” They'd have to be on the other side of False Creek with a powerful telescope. The possibility of a distant voyeur added an edge that heated his blood.

He ran the scarf through his hands, from one end to the other. “You don't question me. I'm in charge. You obey without question. You don't speak unless I ask you a question or give you permission. Or unless you want to say your safe word and stop me.”

Slowly, she dipped her head in a nod. Then her gaze met his. Her light blue irises often looked cool, but now they glittered with curiosity and excitement.

He folded the long scarf in half lengthwise and looped it around her head, three turns, secure but not bindingly tight. He tied a knot. “How do you feel?”

“Strange, Falcon. Off balance, even though I'm sitting still.”

“Off balance is good. It means you'll pay attention to—” He brushed her forehead with three fingers, just one darting touch.

She started and twisted her head, obviously trying to anticipate his next touch.

He ran his fingers down her nose, traced the upper bow of her mouth. Pale pink lips. She rarely wore lipstick, only a neutral lip gloss. “Take off your shirt and bra, then put your hands on the arms of the chair and don't move them. Rather than tie you up, I'm going to trust you.”

He walked away, moving more heavily than usual so she'd hear his retreating footsteps. In the kitchen, he got the bowl of ice cubes. When he returned, he walked silently.

Lily had stripped to the waist, leaving her jewelry on. She sat neatly, her feet on the floor and her forearms on the arms of the chair. Her skin looked pale and delicate against the brown leather. The gold chain and dangling hummingbird drew attention to her naked breasts. With the gas fireplace lit, the room wasn't cold, but her nipples, the same soft pink as her lips, had budded.

Dax was aroused too: at the sight of her; at the idea of playing this game with her; at the possibility that someone watched through a telescope. He'd have stripped off his clothes and freed his erection, but she'd have heard him doing it and he wanted to take her by surprise. Quietly, he kneeled in front of her chair, took a cube from the bowl, and ran it around one of her areolas.

She gasped and involuntarily pulled back, settling deeper into the chair. “What is— I'm sorry, Falcon, I shouldn't have spoken.”

“Do it again and you'll be punished.”

The cube melted as he swirled it over her flesh, water dripping a trail down her breast and onto the top of her rib cage. He applied his tongue to the bottom of the trail, swiping up the cool drips, brushing her warm skin with his chilled tongue. Purposefully, he licked his way up until his tongue circled her areola, then flicked up and around her nipple like he was swirling his tongue around the top of an ice-cream cone, gathering it to a point.

She shivered, but the flush on her chest said it was from arousal, not cold. The same arousal that tightened his groin and thickened his cock.

He swirled a cube around her other areola, but this time didn't lick up the drips. “Open your mouth.”

She obeyed, likely having figured out he was using ice cubes and expecting one. Instead, he slipped two cold fingers between her lips, darting them in and out to mimic sex. She began to close her lips, to capture his fingers, and he drew them quickly away.

He bent to lick the drips of water from her ribs and breast. “Open your mouth.” This time, when she opened, it was his cold tongue he dipped inside. Hers met it and they kissed hungrily, but before the kiss could get too intense he pulled away.

Now he did unzip his jeans, knowing she'd hear the rasp of metal. He shucked off all his clothing, breathing a sigh of relief as his hard-on escaped confinement. Then he tugged her stretchy black pants over her hips. She lifted her lower body, allowing him to pull them off.

Her panties were simple beige ones a few shades darker than her skin. Her mound and pubic hair pressed against the thin fabric. At her crotch, the fabric was dark with moisture.

His cock pulsed at the sight of her wearing only arousal-dampened panties and the jewelry he'd given her. He wrapped a hand around his shaft, which jerked with need. He could pump himself to climax, and if he kept quiet, she'd never know. But he didn't want his orgasm to come from his own hands, so he released his grip.

Kneeling in front of her, he reclined the chair, tilting her backward. He hooked his hands into the top band of her panties and in one quick move ripped them off and down her legs.

“Oh!” she gasped.

He spread her thighs and admired her swollen pink pussy, glistening with dampness. Her flesh would be hot, almost burning. He gathered two ice cubes and pressed them against her, making her jerk, then moan.

Dax wanted to moan too as he bent between her spread legs and inhaled her distinctive scent. Alternating strokes, he swiped the melting ice then his firm tongue against her labia. He took a fresh cube and pressed it inside her, then licked up the drops that trickled from her.

She writhed against his face, panting with need.

Damn, but he wanted to plunge his aching hard-on deep inside her. “Don't come. Not until I tell you to.”

Her body froze, like she was holding her breath.

With forceful swipes, he licked her labia, up and down, faster and faster. Now, rather than wriggle against him, she tried to evade his touch, hands clamping down tightly on the arms of the chair as she pulled away. He gripped her hips and held her steady as he continued to lick relentlessly. This was torture for him too, fueling a painful ache in his balls.

When she groaned, he eased off, dropped light kisses on her inner thigh, let both of them cool down. Then he returned, to tease her budded clit.

She panted, whimpered, tensed so her body was taut with self-control.

His was too. If he touched his hand to his cock, it'd take all of two strokes to make him shoot.

When he sensed Lily was at the point where heightened pleasure would tip into pain, he said, “Come now,” and stroked his tongue firmly along her labia then her clit.

She broke, crying, “Oh God, Dax.” Violating the rule of silence, and the other rule about calling him Falcon. He guessed she wasn't aware of it. It felt good to hear his name on her lips when she came.

Before she'd finished spasming, he applied the last melting ice cube to her heated crotch. She gasped in shock, then he licked her, eating her as she pressed against his face, came apart again, and kept climaxing under his demanding tongue.

When she tried to pull away, to resist his touch, he knew she'd had all she could take. He let go of her hips and sat back on his heels. His cock leaked pre-come and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not just blindly fuck her, or fuck his own hand.

He knew what he wanted: the feel of her lips on his aching flesh. But right now, even the slightest touch would make him blow. He had to cool off, but how could he— Wait a minute.

“Don't move,” he ordered, then went to the kitchen.

Activity helped ease the pressure in his body; so did opening the fridge door and letting the cool air wash over him. He deliberated between mince pie and bolo rei. The traditional Portuguese sweetbread studded with fruit and nuts would make a great breakfast, so he instead chose pie. He put a slice on a plate, couldn't resist taking a couple of bites, then returned silently to Lily.

She slumped in the recliner, boneless as a sleeping cat in the warm light from the lamp and the gas fire. The window was a black square of night studded with distant lights from other apartment windows.

Dax said, “I'm going to put the chair up.”

She jerked to alertness as he activated the recliner switch until she was sitting upright again.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered. “Open wide, Lily.”

Slowly, she opened her mouth.

He slid a forkful of pie inside.

She slipped it off the fork and ate it with an expression of pleasure.

Dax put the plate aside and placed his feet on either side of hers, not touching them. He leaned forward to rest one hand on the sturdy back of the chair, and with the other hand grasped his erection. “Open wide again.”

When she did, he guided his cock to her lips and between them, stretching them wider.

She gave a startled, smothered, “Mmph” sound, and then her tongue stroked his shaft. Her lips sucked against his burning flesh and he knew he wasn't going to last.

He put his other hand on the back of the chair, bracing himself.

Lily reached her hand toward his cock.

“No. Stop. I didn't tell you to move your hands.” Though he loved feeling her fingers circle his shaft and caress his balls, right now that wasn't what he wanted. There was something unbearably erotic about the sight of Lily, her naked body flushed from climax, sitting prim and proper in the brown leather chair, blindfolded, as he leaned over her. Their bodies didn't touch except in one place, where his cock thrust into her mouth.

The heat of her mouth, the heat of his organ . . . he felt like he'd burst into flames if not for the dampness she spread across him with her tongue. She laved his shaft, tightened her lips around the sensitive base of his crown, slid up and down, sucked him in.

Sucked him so relentlessly that there was nothing in his world except that sweet, hot pressure and the irresistible need to . . . He let out a hoarse cry as he exploded in her mouth, his whole body jerking with the force of his release.

She took him, swallowed, and he kept coming. She swallowed again and again, until finally he was finished.

Though his legs and arms trembled, he managed to push himself upright, easing his cock from her mouth.

Her pink lips gleamed with his come. She licked first the top lip, then the bottom one, and he didn't know if she was deliberately being seductive or merely cleaning her lips.

Wanting to see her eyes, he untied the knot in the scarf and unwound the silky fabric.

Her lashes fluttered and she blinked as her vision adjusted. Wide-eyed, she gazed at his face, then past him to the unscreened window. She started to raise her arms to cover her breasts then stopped. Without looking at him, she said, “May I move now, Falcon?”

“Yes, Lily. The game's over. How do you feel?”

Head bowed, she said, “Exposed.”

“Here.” He retrieved his T-shirt from the floor. “Put this on.”

As she pulled it over her head, he climbed into his jeans, not bothering with underwear, and lowered the blinds. When he turned back, she'd curled her legs up in the chair and was huddled inside the hawk tee, looking more vulnerable than she had when they'd been playing the sex game.

“Are you okay?” He sat on the rug in front of her and reached for her hand.

She let him take it, but it lay inert in his. She nodded then finally looked into his eyes again. The line of her mouth softened and she squeezed his hand. “It was great. Very sexy. Just different and, uh, a little embarrassing.”

“Don't be embarrassed about how we have sex.”

“I know.” Her lips curved slightly. “Did you eat all the pie?”

“I got distracted.” He released her hand, picked up the plate, and took a large bite of mince pie. Man, that was good. Too bad neither he nor Lily was much into cooking.

She uncurled her body and he handed her the plate. For a couple of minutes, they ate in silence, passing the plate back and forth.

“So,” she said, “you're in Vancouver until after New Year's, right?”

“Yeah, camp's shut down for the holiday. I picked up some work here, flying sightseeing trips.”

“Dax, don't you want time off?”

“There's nothing for me to do in Vancouver.”

“Don't be ridiculous. It's a wonderful city.”

Her outraged expression made him grin. “Yeah? So what would you do, if you ever took a day off.”

“Oh. Well, I'd . . .” She handed the plate, with one last bite, back to him. “Go for long walks, visit the galleries and Science World, go out to the Museum of Anthropology, go to the theater—”

“Stop. You sound like the tourist bureau. When's the last time you did any of those things?”

“Um, well . . . Okay, but I've always been so busy.”

“Nothing against all that tourist stuff, but in my downtime, I like hiking, running. In nature, not on city streets. If we'd bought that old house with the big yard, I'd have had garden and house stuff to do, but as it is . . .” He shrugged.