TangledBound (13 page)

She took his cock in hand and drew him against her tight
hollow. “Please.”

“Adorable.” He hung his head to watch as he pushed into her,
hating the latex barrier between his cock and her pink, wet pussy. She stopped
breathing and he drove deep, fueled by his all-consuming need for her. Her head
fell back. She lifted for him, digging her heels into the mattress so she could
follow him as he pulled back and meet him as he shoved in again. Over and over
again.

Bracing himself over her, he bore her down and pinned her
hands beneath his.

“Mine,” he muttered, angling to catch her clit on his
downstroke. “I knew you were mine. Changed me. Fighting it changed—”

She whispered his name. Sam looked up from their joined
bodies and met her eyes, which were glassy with need.

“Later,” he promised.

Melanie nodded and dropped her head back. Her throat worked
over some swallowed emotion and she rolled her hips beneath him, encouraging
him to move. He hardly needed it. Shutting down his thinking brain, he threw
himself into feeling and didn’t stop until her high cries faded and his muscles
quivered from the force of long-denied release.

* * * * *

At the ungodly hour of four a.m., after dealing with his
staff and making love to Melanie a second time, Sam sat beside his bed watching
her sleep. She was a bed hog, draping herself across the mattress at an
all-encompassing angle. After he’d eased himself from beneath her sprawled
limbs, she’d rolled over to claim his pillow.

He couldn’t sleep though. For several minutes, he passed his
phone from one hand to the other, rolling half a dozen thoughts around in his
mind. When he finally made the call, he still had no idea what he was going to
say, but the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could rejoin her in bed.

David answered on the fourth ring, his voice rough with
sleep. “Burke Security.”

“David, it’s Sam. Sorry to wake you.” A woman spoke in the
background. Sam winced. “Give my apologies to Jovanna.”

“Is my sister with you?” David asked, no longer sleep-slow.

“Listen, I—”

“It’s fucking four o’clock in the morning, Sam. Is she with
you?”

Sam ground his back teeth together. “Yes.”

“Christ,” David said. “Finally.”

“Thank God,” Jovanna said in the background. “I couldn’t
take it anymore.”

Frowning, Sam started to launch into his explanation and
statement of intent, but David cut him off.

“Going back to sleep. Let Mel know a package showed up for
her today.” David ended the call, leaving Sam to stare at his phone.

So much for his unwillingness to violate the friendship
code. Shaking his head, Sam folded his big body into the small space Melanie
didn’t occupy and drew her back against him.

She stretched and cuddled into his heat. “Sam?”

“Go back to sleep, honey.” He kissed her shoulder.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Always…but preferably during daylight hours.”

She nudged him with her elbow before saying, “What’s going
to be in our contract?”

“I figured your part would state that you agree to turn to
me when you’re struggling with something, confide in me when you’re afraid of
something and tell me to stop when you feel like I’m doing something to you
that you can’t handle.” He slid his palm over her hip, drawn to her heat the
way snow is drawn to the ground. “Sound like a commitment you could make?”

She shifted, granting him access, and asked, “What’s your
part going to say?”

“That I promise to love and cherish you, and do everything
in my power to help you realize your dreams.”

Melanie tensed and Sam did too, wondering whether he’d said
something wrong.

“Does that sound like a commitment
you
could make?”
she asked quietly.

“Could, can, already did.”

She rolled onto her back. “Will I still get spankings?”

Sam chuckled. “Probably on a daily basis.”

Chapter Eleven

The image of his bold signature beside her flowery scrawl
was burned into her brain. Melanie could barely remember the details of the
contract but she’d suggested amendments, and he’d agreed, and as of three days
ago, she belonged to Sam Fletcher. Sam insisted on a three-day separation
period so she could have time to review the contract and back out of it if she
had second thoughts. The only thoughts she’d had were of being with him again.

“You’re not eating,” Sam said.

She glanced up from her plate to find him watching her with
a much different expression than the last time they found themselves seated
across the table from one another. Now, instead of anger, his eyes gleamed with
hunger—and not for food. While she’d barely touched her meal, he’d finished
his.

“I’m nervous,” she confessed. The few bites of salmon she’d
eaten were perfect but her stomach churned with anxiety. “Would you be offended
if I pass?”

“No.” He pushed away from the table and offered his hand,
which Melanie grasped gratefully. Sam pulled her up from the chair and drew her
close, into the warmth of his body. He pressed their linked hands against the
small of her back, forcing her breasts against him. “Tell me what you’re afraid
of.”

She moistened her lips. “I’m not exactly afraid. I missed
you—it’s been days and days, and the months before that, and I—um.”

Sam kissed the corner of her mouth. “You’re ready.”

Melanie nodded.

“Come with me.” Still holding her hand, he picked her plate
off the table and carried it into his galley kitchen. Sam slid her barely
touched dinner into the refrigerator and passed her a bottle of water after
opening it. “I won’t push the eating issue, but you need to drink this while I
clean up.”

He left her in the kitchen and went back out to the small
dining room. Melanie sipped at the water while listening to the clink of
silverware and glasses. Leaning against the refrigerator, she closed her eyes
and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She wasn’t afraid of him,
didn’t have second thoughts about her choice, but she was in a huge sea of the
unknown. Unfortunately she’d probably continue to drift along on that sea for a
while, at least until she knew for certain that she could actually survive a
night of submission.

Sam returned and quickly loaded the dishwasher.

Watching him perform the domestic chore should have eased
her anxiety. Instead, she worried she’d messed up by not offering to do it for
him. Housekeeping wasn’t part of their contract, but still.

He started the wash and faced her from the other side of the
narrow kitchen. He studied her for long minutes, examining her face and lower,
lingering on the curves of her breasts where they rounded above her
square-necked sweater. Her nipples pebbled under his scrutiny.

His eyes darkened and he pushed away from the counter.
“Finish up now so we can go upstairs.”

“Yes Sir.” Those two little words changed things. Melanie
sucked a surprised breath as heat settled between her thighs, overtaking the
anxiety that had plagued her all evening.

Sam nodded but didn’t say anything else. Eager to be with
him, she finished the bottle of water and dropped it in the recycling bin.

He once again took her hand and led, this time back to the
foyer, where the stairs were. Her heels tapped the hardwood floors in the wake
of his quieter footfalls. She felt conspicuous but when she’d tried to slip her
shoes off earlier, Sam told her to leave them on until otherwise instructed.
He’d claimed the privilege of undressing her at his whim.

Halfway up the stairs, he spoke. “Melanie, what are you
afraid of?”

“I’m…what happens if I can’t handle you?”

“We stop and decide on something else,” he answered
patiently, not pointing out that he’d already addressed these very same
concerns through email exchanges during their separation period. “When I gave
you the key to the front door, I gave you access to everything. There’s nothing
you can do or refuse to do, as long as we both agree to change our
relationship, that will make me revoke it.”

“Okay. All right.” Giving herself a mental shake, she
managed to smile at him.

His frown remained. “You’ll tell me if you’re having second
thoughts about anything, and you’ll use your safeword if you need it.”

“Yes Sir.” She hesitated and her smile disappeared. “In
Vegas, you said you’d break me. Did you mean it?”

“Yes. You wrecked my self-control. If I’d kept you that
night, I would have pushed you to places you weren’t ready to go.”

“What about now?”

“You’ve given me back my control.”

“I…all right.” She looked up the stairs. “We should go. Just
go. Because the longer I think about this, the more scared I get.”

“Simple solution, honey.” Sam pulled her away from the wall
and directed her up the stairs ahead of him, one hand resting possessively on
her hip. “You stop thinking about anything except how much I want you.”

“A lot?”

“More than that.”

The second flight of stairs stopped at a heavy, dark-wood
door, which Sam unlocked with a key he produced from his pocket. Melanie tensed
as the door swung open, then released her breath in a rush. The scent of
cinnamon wrapped around her, warming her from the inside out and taking her
right back to the tiny in-flight bathroom with Sam’s mouth on her skin.

She expected something dark and gloomy, iron accents and
leather restraints hanging from the walls. Instead, light from an enormous
winter moon flooded the space, coming in through a huge skylight built into the
angled roof. Very few furnishings interrupted the caramel-stained wood floors—a
high-backed chair, a padded bench, glass-fronted cabinets against the walls. A
little bit of her confidence returned and she walked into the big, open space
before Sam prompted her to move.

She spotted the St. Andrews Cross immediately and the last
of her reluctance fled, replaced by a wet rush. Her fingertips tingled with
phantom needles of pain. She took half a dozen steps toward the big X-beam
before Sam stopped her.

“That’s not what we’re doing tonight,” he said.

When she turned back to him, the rest of the room finally
registered. Sam closed the door while she nibbled the pad of her thumb and
stared at a fixture that resembled a sawhorse, except with a padded and
leather-upholstered body. Other shapes lurked in the far shadows, furniture she
had no doubt she’d become familiar with over time.

“Nerves again?” He circled behind her and wrapped his arms
around her waist.

“Different nerves. Outside nerves.” Trusting Sam’s
experience, she forced her spinning thoughts to stop and emptied her mind of
everything except him.

“We’ll do something about those in a minute.” He kissed the
spot where her shoulder met her neck. Melanie shivered. When he lowered the
zipper hidden at her hip and pushed her skirt to the floor, the shiver settled
down deep.

He stripped her efficiently, removing everything except her
sheer white stockings and black patent leather heels, and he held her hand for
balance while she stepped away from the puddle of clothes at her feet. After
moving her clothes to the chair, he walked around to stand in front of her.
Desire darkened his eyes and her nervousness crept back into the room.

“I haven’t seen you naked,” she said into the silence.

Sam didn’t look detour from his rapt examination of her
breasts. “You haven’t, have you?”

She shook her head. “You made me keep my eyes closed on the
plane, and every other time, you still had at least half your clothes on. You
wake up and get dressed before me. If I hadn’t felt you inside me and seen you
that night at Bondage, I might be wondering whether you actually have the right
equipment.”

He jerked his head up and stared at her. “Are you telling me
I have something to prove?”

Melanie flushed. “I mean—”

“Don’t take it back,” he said, cutting her off. “Elaborate.”

“Well, I, um.” She fidgeted. “It’s just that I had a
thought.”

He raised an expectant eyebrow.

Since he wasn’t going to let her off the hook, she charged
ahead. “I’m naked again and you’re not. I was wondering if it was a power
thing. Whether you feel more in control if you’re fully clothed.”

Without responding, Sam moved out of her line of sight to
open one of the cabinets. Melanie started to turn toward him but he stopped
her.

“Bend over and put your hands on the bench. There are little
leather loops for your fingers. See them?”

“I…yes Sir.” Because she did, and a picture of herself
obeying him filled her head, and suddenly her tongue forgot how to form any
other words.

The squat bench wouldn’t have reached her knees even if she
weren’t wearing four-inch-tall heels. In order to follow Sam’s directions, she
had to spread her feet apart and lean forward in an awkward sort of pose yoga
enthusiasts would call downward dog…if she were in an extremely naked kind of
yoga class. The posture didn’t leave her with any sense of modesty whatsoever.
As she spread her fingers and pushed them into the loops, which fit like supple
rings sized for her small hands, Sam returned.

He presented a shallow, felt-lined drawer adorned with an
array of oblong, tapered instruments. Melanie recognized them immediately as
anal plugs and her pussy squeezed in on itself, a helpless muscle response to
her sudden uncertainty and excitement.

“Choose one,” he said.

She tried to look up at him but the combination of low bench
and high heels severely limited her range of motion and she was unable to see
higher than his thighs.

He palmed the back of her head and nudged her back down.
“Don’t look at me. You’re the one who will be wearing it. Which would you
like?”

Melanie licked her lips and wondered if he could tell how
hot her cheeks were. The plugs ranged in colors and materials, from what
appeared to be clear blue glass to a hot pink toy that had a silicone look to
it. Two of the plugs sported adornments, one a fluffy pink feathered concoction
that, when positioned correctly, would resemble a tail. The other one was a
tail outright, all white and poufy and long, like something that belonged on a
long-haired cat. It was attached to a simple plastic body. She could totally
picture herself arching and rubbing up against him in a plea for attention.

When she hesitated, Sam crouched until he was on eye level
with her. “I wouldn’t offer anything I’m not interested in seeing. Nothing you
choose is the wrong choice.”

She flexed her hands against the leather beneath them.
“Can’t you choose?”

“I could but I want to know your head as well as I’m about
to know your body.”

“I should just do it, shouldn’t I? Quick like a Band-Aid. Or
something.”

Sam chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear, only for
gravity to pull it back down. “You could keep agonizing over the decision all
night if you want. I’m patient enough to wait and I know you’ll choose
eventually.”

“This is cruel,” she moaned.

True to his word, Sam settled in and rested his forearms on
his thighs. She risked a glance at his face and sighed. “Please don’t laugh at
me.”

His expression sobered. “Your submission isn’t amusing to
me, Melanie.”

He didn’t raise his voice or lift a finger in her direction,
but his displeasure struck her as unmistakably as a physical blow. Closing her
eyes, she said, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I accept your apology. I’d like you to choose now. While
I’m willing to wait you out, I’d rather move on to preparing your ass to accept
me.”

Her mouth went dry while her pussy creamed, responding to
the mere thought of him filling her. A touch of uncertainty floated through the
back of her mind as she recalled how much his size stretched her. Struggling to
control her doubt that he’d fit in her tighter passage, she swallowed hard and
managed to say, “I think the white tail is pretty.”

“You’re pretty. That just serves a purpose, a little
coverage so the whole world can’t see your cunt if I decide to make use of you
in a play setting.” He stood and removed the array from view.

He wanted her to accompany him to private gatherings, where
he might display her—but not share her. That was something she’d agreed to when
they worked out their contract, but she hadn’t considered the reality of it.
Being exposed to Sam was overwhelming enough. To a crowd—she couldn’t think
about it right now.

Melanie hung her head between her arms and tried to remember
how to take real breaths again. Her calves had begun to ache from the unnatural
strain created by her heels and her weight distribution over the bench. Behind
her, Sam’s footfalls moved away. When they came back toward her, she tensed.

He stopped immediately behind her. She could see his legs
between hers, faded denim framed by her white stockings. He did something and
the sweet, rich scent of cinnamon burst into the air. Before she mustered
words, she felt the warm slide of thick fluid between her cheeks.

“Remember how I told you to push out a little?” He stroked
her bare cheek before working his fingers into her crease. The cinnamon-scented
oil brought a flare of heat to her delicate flesh.

“I remember.” Melanie inhaled through her nose, trying to
breathe through the low-grade burn.

Something round and hard nudged her pucker. “You’ll want to
do that now.”

“I don’t think I’m rea—ahh!” Goose bumps spread over her
skin, fast like fire as Sam pressed the plug’s narrow tip past her protesting
entrance.

“Don’t squirm, honey.” His hand fell heavily against the
small of her back, holding her in place. While her nipples tightened to painful
peaks, he worked the plug deeper and deeper until her natural resistance gave
and the toy slid into place. The tail’s silky fringe swung against her thigh,
light and tickling, an enormous contrast to the hot fullness lodged in her ass.