In His Cuffs (19 page)

“What about you?” she asked. “Why are you single?”

“I was married once. I accept the responsibility for the failure. I didn’t give her the time she needed or deserved.” He looked at Maggie intently. “I’ve learnt from my mistakes. Anything worth having is worth investing in. It doesn’t mean it’s easy, and it doesn’t mean it won’t take work.”

She didn’t respond, and neither of them seemed to have a need to break the silence. He enjoyed her companionship. For a long time after his divorce, he’d enjoyed his solitude. Now that Maggie was with him, he didn’t want to let her go.

“We didn’t have sex earlier,” she said much later, turning to face him.

The dim light made it difficult to read her expression, but her unspoken meaning was clear.

“I mean, after we left your basement.”

“I’ve been acting like a gentleman and giving you time to recover.”

“Would you quit that?” she asked.

“You’d rather I act like a Neanderthal?”

“Yes, please.” She grinned.

“A woman after my heart.” He stood and offered his hand, accepting her unspoken invitation. “I’ve wanted to fuck you up the ass all day.”

Chapter Eight

No matter what Maggie was expecting David to say, he almost always shocked her. She didn’t have a lot of experience with anal sex. Plugs, yes. But an actual dick—an enormous one at that—not so much. The realisation he intended to pound her made her feel submissive and feminine.

She slid her hand against his and revelled in his raw, masculine strength as he pulled her to her feet. It was a wonder, really, that he possessed all that power, but used the perfect amount to arouse her without crossing the line.

Maggie had no idea how long he’d flogged her earlier. Once the first blow had landed on her body, she’d surrendered to him. No. That wasn’t the truth. From the moment she’d arrived, she’d given him all her trust.

He’d taken exquisite care of her, giving her what she’d wanted and bringing her back when she was so lost that pain and pleasure merged into indistinguishable bliss.

She wondered what would happen if she extended that trust to other areas of their relationship as he seemed to want, both at work and in private. Doing so would mean she’d be more exposed emotionally, open to being hurt.

Since her father had died when she was so young and her mother had her own issues to deal with, Maggie had learnt to rely on herself. Her other relationships had offered her little incentive to modify that behaviour. She was so set in her ways that she wasn’t sure it was possible to change. It surprised her that she was even considering it.

He held her hand as they walked inside, and he shut the door behind them before releasing her. She looked up at him as he unfastened her button then shucked the shirt from her shoulders. “Back to being naked, Sir?”

“Sorry, Maggie. It’s been at least a week since I’ve seen your breasts.”

“You mean an hour or two, Mr Tomlinson.”

“Seems like a week.”

The material slipped to the floor. She pulled back her shoulders and arched her back. He rolled each nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Now she had no idea why she’d protested when he insisted she stay naked. Each time he touched her, an illicit thrill shot through her. That she’d been clamped with such vicious pincers earlier only magnified his effect.

Under his careful, firm touch, her pussy started to moisten. It was frightening how masterfully he aroused her.

“The bedroom, now,” he urged, “before I bugger you here.”

“I…” She couldn’t believe the thought that went through her mind. When he looked at her with his eyebrows drawn together, she hurried through her suggestion. “The stairs might be interesting.”

“Good God.”

“I mean, we don’t have to. Never mind. That was a strange idea.”

“I should have thought of it myself,” he disagreed. “I’ll be back with the lube.”

Maggie wondered if she’d lost her mind. A bed made much more sense. But damn, the first time she’d looked at those polished wooden steps, she’d thought of wild monkey sex on them. Since the staircase was crafted from individual boards, it would be easy for her to hold on. The potential positions he could put her in were endless.

In addition to the bottle of lube, he returned with a damp washcloth and a dry hand towel as well as a condom. Always prepared. She desired him, his domination and possession. He wasn’t gentle, giving her the exact right amount of roughness. “I want your dick in my mouth first. If I may, Sir.”

Beneath his casual black pants, she saw his cock was already thick. Though she’d sucked cock before, she had almost always considered it something she was required to do. But she’d had him in her mouth that first night at the Den, and she had a real desire to taste him again.

Without waiting for his approval, she knelt while he toed off his sandals. She drew his pants down and he kicked them away.

She inhaled the scent of him before leaning in to lick his sac then suck each ball, one at a time, into her mouth. He groaned and reached for her, digging his hands into her hair. The slight tug let her know how much he appreciated her efforts.

Emboldened, she reached for his cock and licked her way up the shaft. She closed her mouth around the head and pressed her tongue against the underneath, seeing the way he jerked his hips in response. She loved pleasing him. Moving her hand as well as her mouth, she worked him, making him moan. Her pussy flooded with moisture, and it surprised her that she could become so turned on just from tasting him.

David imprisoned her head and held her so that he was able to control how deep she took him. That alone showed her his natural dominance. He would never cede control to her, not that she wanted him to.

That realisation made her pause for a second. She’d said as much to him earlier, when she’d confessed she didn’t always mind him being in charge. But more and more, she was not only admitting it, she was accepting it.

Feeling his hand press on the back of her head, she resumed the blow job, shoving aside her thoughts and concentrating on him.

“Nice,” he approved.

She continued trying to take him all the way to his root. She choked a little, and he pulled back while releasing his grip on her hair.

“We can try that again another time,” he said as her eyes watered.

“That wasn’t what I meant to have happen,” she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

“I appreciate your trying,” he assured her. “As for now, let’s get you ready. Show me your ass.”

Since she was already kneeling, it didn’t take much to get on all fours and raise her rear end as high as she could. Without being instructed, she knew to reach back and part her buttocks.

“That is a nice view, Maggie.”

She felt a slight pressure against her ass hole. She was tender from the glass plug he’d used earlier, but as he fingered her hole, he used plenty of lubricant and she began to relax, giving him access.

“What a good princess.”

As a result of their previous play, she wasn’t as tight as normal. He went deeper, stretching her as he did. When he slid in a second digit, she grunted, a very unladylike sound that made him laugh.

“Now a third,” he said.

Without his coaching, she swayed backwards, easing his way.

“That should about do it,” he said.

He wiped his hands before he said, “Crawl over to the staircase.”

The longer she was with him, the less self-conscious she felt. Her long-term exposure to the BDSM lifestyle had left her without many body-image issues. If she wanted her ample bottom to get spanked, there wasn’t much point in hiding it. But under his constant attention mixed with approval, her confidence blossomed. She knew he found her sexy and she got a thrill from the knowledge she possessed the ability to arouse him by how she moved her body.

With an exaggerated sway of her hips, she sashayed across the hardwood floors. She started up the stairs and stopped when he told her to.

She looked back at him. At some point he’d discarded his shirt. He was glorious in his nakedness. It was a good thing he kept his clothes on for the most part. Seeing him with an insistent erection scrambled her brains. Knowing it would soon be inside her stole her breath.

Her mouth dried as he rolled the condom down his length then covered it in plenty of lube.

He didn’t walk towards her, he stalked her as if she were prey. His jaw was set, and his deep blue eyes pulsed with electric energy.

Maggie took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. She expected him to force his cockhead against her, but he didn’t. Instead, he went behind her and slid his hands between her legs. He teased her pussy, finger-fucking her while pressing against her clitoris.

He tantalised and thrilled until she cried out for more. “In me,” she said between pants. “I want you in me.”

Only then did he press himself against her whorl.

“Hold on,” he warned her. “If at any time the angle is too much, say so. The stairs could make this tricky.”

“I love it.” And she did. This gave him a different position, and she held onto two separate stairs for greater stability which allowed her to thrust her hips backwards.

He entered her in a series of ever-deepening thrusts, giving her an opportunity to adjust. Still, the anal penetration hurt a bit. She preferred the feel of his masculine flesh to that of the impermeable glass, but he was still bigger in circumference than the plug had been.

“So fucking tight.”

She hadn’t heard that tone from him before, rough and edgy. And it emboldened her. She exhaled and pushed back when he surged forwards. “Do it,” she said. “Fuck me, Mr Tomlinson.”

He grasped her hips, pulling her against his pelvis as he forced his dick the remainder of the way in.

She cried out.

“Damn,” he said. He moved a hand to rub one of her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“It’s… Full. Overwhelming.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good.” Now that she’d adjusted, she liked it.

“Thank God,” he said. “I’d stop, but hell if I want to.”

He pulled out to his cockhead before he eased back in.

After several dozen sensuous strokes, each more overwhelming than the last, he spoke. “I want to try something different. I’m going to help you to stand. Are you willing to try?”

She doubted the possibility that they’d be able to pull it off, but she didn’t tell him that. He reached an arm around her and braced her chest.

“Lean back.”

The added danger made her pulse race. “Slipping would suck, Sir.”

“I’ve got you, Maggie.”

She reached behind her and wrapped an arm around his neck, feeling more secure. “Christ,” she said as the angle changed and he went even deeper.

Behind her, he bent his knees, using her body to jerk himself off. Over and over, she cried out. The pleasure was unimaginable, but it came from the sensation of being torn apart for her lover.

“I’m going to come,” he said viciously against her ear.

 She wasn’t sure how long she could stay in position with her back bent at that angle and her ass stuffed full of cock.

He thrust harder, shattering her, making her orgasm—something she hadn’t known was possible from anal sex.

With a masculine, guttural groan, he yanked her back a final time, imprisoning her upper body as he surged forwards and pulsed out his ejaculation.

He kept hold of her for several seconds before slowly releasing her. She lowered her arm then, having no support, she went limp. More mindful than she was, he lowered her to the stairs where she placed her hands.

“Damn,” he said, withdrawing his spent penis from her. “Better than I would have imagined.” He brushed her hair aside. “I was rougher with you than I’d planned.”

“Lucky for us both, I’m not delicate,” she replied, though it took several breaths before her head stopped spinning.

He patted her with the damp washcloth. “Can you make it up the stairs or should I carry you?”

“I can walk. Or crawl.” She thought about it then added, “At least I think I can.”

Somehow she made it upstairs and into the shower with him.

Afterwards, he dried her off, and she stood still, her lips pressed together while he dabbed the white cream on her skin. He’d threatened to withhold all beatings until she was healed if she uttered one word of protest. His tone had been fierce, so she was sure he meant what he said.

When he pulled her against him in the bed, she didn’t fight. He kissed the top of her head once again and she fell asleep, only to wake the next morning to the realisation he’d kept her bad dreams at bay.

He climbed from the bed and pulled on a fresh pair of lightweight pants, this time in grey. The fabric allowed her to see that he was already semi-interested. She couldn’t wait for him to take her again. Her pussy and ass throbbed from his use, but that only made her want more. “Is there coffee in my future?” she asked.

“Even a latte if you want it.”

“Wait. Did I die and go to heaven?”

“I’ll hope you think so. You’re having it in the hot tub. Your muscles will appreciate it after yesterday’s acrobatics.”

“Limbering me up for today’s shenanigans?”

“Ah.” He pantomimed twirling a moustache. “You’re onto my nefarious plot.”

Laughing at him, she pulled a pillow against her chest. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed waking up with a man this much.

“You’re welcome to stay in bed while I make your drink.”

“I’ll freshen up then be down.”

He nodded. “I don’t need to remind you I expect you to be naked, do I?”

“No, Sir.” At every juncture, he reinforced their roles. The surprise was, it didn’t chafe.

With a quick nod, he left the room.

By the time she entered the kitchen, her latte was in an unbreakable mug on the counter. He was outside, in the tub. Jets made the water turbulent, and she accepted his hand as she balanced the cup while descending the stairs. “This is quite the way to wake up,” she said, looking at the Rockies in the distance.

“It’s better when there’s someone to share it.”

“I would have thought you’d prefer peace and quiet.”