Bind (7 page)

She hesitated, and he waited. Finally, she tipped back her head. “When I masturbate, I think about a man’s belt.”

“I think we could arrange that.”

“I might hate it. It could ruin the fantasy.”

“It could,” he agreed. “And it could make it even better. Anything else?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions, Mr. Donovan. Tell me about you, what it is you think I need to know.”

“As I mentioned, BDSM isn’t something I’m merely into. Kinky sex like you’re suggesting is fine. Awesome, in fact. I definitely enjoy it. I’d love to see your body spread wide, held open for me. But I see that as an extension of a relationship rather than replacing it.”

“I’m a bit confused. I thought it was all about the tying up and beating.”

“To some people, it is. And that’s fine. To me, it’s much, much more. Tell me, do you consider yourself compassionate?”

She blinked. “Of course.”

“Loyal to your family and friends?”

“Naturally.”

“Someone who likes chocolate?”

“Adores it,” she said, softly, as if it were a confession. “And pizza.”

That little bit of information, he hung onto. “They’re part of who you are.”

“Yes.”

“The D/s dynamic is the same thing to me. I can’t separate it from my personality. Nurturer. Protector. Dominant.”

“That sounds a bit scary.”

“It doesn’t have to be. In fact, I’d insist you have a safe word, a way to immediately stop anything we were doing. You’d also have a word to slow things down, whether to give you a break or to reconnect emotionally or just to talk about how you’re doing.”

“I’m not used to hearing men use the word emotional.”

“It’s part of a real relationship,” he said. “I may not be as good at recognizing my emotions as you are yours, but I do have them, I promise you.”

She gave him a soft smile, and he recognized that they’d had a small connection. He—they—could build from there.

She looked out of the window for a few seconds, in silence. When she glanced back, a thoughtful frown was burrowed between her dark eyebrows. “So if we were to marry… You’d expect…” She squirmed a little. “You’d want to spank me? Blindfold me? Tie me up?”

“All that, yes. We’d talk about which you were comfortable with, find your limits. But it goes beyond that for me.”

“Beyond it, how?”

So she was curious. Considering it, at least. “I’d expect that, while we were married, you would be my wife, but also my submissive.”

“Isn’t that synonymous with servant? Slave? Yes-man? I’m not a puppet for anyone,” she said, scooting her chair back a little, putting distance between them. “I can’t be. I refuse to be.”

“I wouldn’t expect that.” He kept his voice easy, moderated. “It’s clear that you’re intelligent as well as brave. I wouldn’t want anything less.”

“Do you ever have…I don’t know how to put this. Regular sex?”

“Regular?”

“You know. Wham-bam. Wipe up with a tissue and you’re done?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

“Not ever? No quickies? Something where we can just get it over with?”

“Lara, I’m not sure what kind of sex you’ve been having, but I promise you, you won’t want to just get it over with.”

“That sounds a little overconfident.”

He smiled. “I don’t think so. I will be so focused on you that you’ll want it to go on and on.”

She laced her fingers in her lap, as if unsure what to do with them. “It’s clear that I don’t have any idea what it would mean to be a submissive or whether I’d like it or not. Like you said, whether it’s part of my personality.”

“We’ll also talk about that, all of it. I’ll let you know my expectations, requirements.”

“And what about mine?”

He took her, her challenge—her tilted chin and narrowed eyes—very seriously. He recognized she was a novice, and fuck, he had to admit that it appealed to him. He hadn’t had a serious relationship since his father had passed. Until Lara, he hadn’t even been attracted to anyone.

Recently, he’d gone to a local club with his friends Reece and Sarah. Julien Bonds had flown in to meet them. While Connor had enjoyed being there, he hadn’t scened. Without a relationship, it was sexy, but not significant.

Watching Reece flog Sarah had made him restless. The two had seemed unaware of anyone else, and the way Reece had interacted with her, even carrying her to a comfort couch for her aftercare, had spoken of an intimacy that was missing in his own life. “No doubt you will have needs,” he agreed finally. “I would do anything in my power to meet them.”

“That doesn’t sound very Dom-like.”

He grinned. “Be that as it may, taking care of a sub gives me fulfillment.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “To me, D/s relationships are different from others on many levels, and they require tremendous trust. I will work to ensure that I deserve your trust by honoring my word, letting you know what to expect and never taking you further than you’re comfortable with or have agreed to go.”

After pausing for a moment, he added, “I will be the Dom you need, the Dom you require, the Dom you want. In return, I expect you to accord me your respect and utter loyalty, at home as well as in public. I don’t anticipate that you’d agree with me on all matters, but I would demand that we handle disagreements discreetly. Details of our relationship would remain between us. Always. As part of our prenuptial, you would agree that there would be no tell-all book. No interviews with the press.”

“If you even think such a thing, Mr. Donovan—”

“I leave nothing to chance, Ms. Bertrand, not when it comes to my family. I expect you’re the same way and that’s why you approached me.”

She gave a nod, slow, as if reluctant.

“That said, I promise you I would be a patient Dom and honorable husband. I even know how to do laundry and load the dishwasher.”

“All that?”

“And I give excellent foot rubs.”

A delicate flush stained her cheeks. That was another thing he hadn’t expected. The contradiction between sophistication and innocence ensnared him.

For a moment, the tension eased.

Then, as he waited, it grew again.

“You were right when you said I had no idea what I was suggesting when I came to you with my proposal.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” he agreed. “You’re free to leave and think about it. Or perhaps you’d like a taste of what you’d be in for as my wife, my sub?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That you give me the chance to tantalize you. To see if it might be in your personality. After that, if you still want to pursue the possibility of getting married, we’ll set up another meeting outside of work, where we’ll have adequate time to talk about details and get more intimately acquainted.”

She hesitated.

He didn’t push. But damn, part of him hoped, really hoped she was interested enough to accept his challenge. And he admitted he wanted to touch her, make her respond to him.

“I feel like I’ve entered a maze. This is a bit of a mind fuck.”

He didn’t disagree with her statement.

“What do you want me to do?”

He pointed to a spot in front of the couch. “Go stand over there. Take off your suit jacket.”

Eventually she stood.

“Lock the door first.”

She gave a small nod before pivoting and heading toward the door. As she walked, he stared.

Her hips were rounded, and he noticed the way her buttocks were emphasized by the tight fit of her skirt. Connor considered that maybe his earlier thought had been wrong. Maybe she hadn’t chosen the red suit for power. Or Christ, maybe she had, her power over him. Those heels, those stockings… “Seams up the back?”
Damn.

“Problem?” She turned the big lock. The bolt made a purposeful sound as it slammed home. Then she faced him again, resting her shoulders against one of the floor-to-ceiling double doors. She brushed back her hair and boldly met his gaze.

Any earlier doubt was erased. This woman had chosen her outfit intentionally. She’d known the effect that skirt would have on any male with a pulse. And hell, if he didn’t have one, it would restart it. “You’re lovely.” And smart. He made a mental note never to underestimate her as an adversary, as a lover.

Without being asked a second time, she moved to the center of the room. The sight of her calves, accentuated by those heels, gave him palpitations.

But it wasn’t just the heels. It was the entire package. She had flawless posture, and she walked with a little strut that spoke of confidence.

Was there anything hotter?

She stopped where he’d indicated then shrugged out of her suit coat. She took her time—her sweet, sweet time—draping the red material over the arm of the couch.

Then she rolled back her shoulders, making her breasts thrust toward him a bit, causing the button across her chest to strain. God help him.

Connor stood and walked toward her.

As he drew closer, her scent slipped past his defenses. Pheromones, he reminded himself. They made rational people insane.

He couldn’t take his gaze from her. Often, he preferred his submissives to look downward, but he loved seeing her eyes, all the emotions and reactions that she didn’t hide quickly enough. Uncertainty, sure. But mixed with a bit of curiosity. It created a heady elixir that he suddenly hungered for.

Only a few inches from her, he stopped. “Put your hands behind you.”

Nothing existed but the sound of her breathing and the heat of his sudden desire.

She did as instructed.

He placed his index finger on the hollow of her throat. Her lips parted slightly. “If you’re scared about anything, just say the word yellow.”

She nodded.

“As we get to know one another better, as you gain experience and build your trust, things that might have made you nervous will no longer bother you. Yellow will slow me down, give us chance to regroup, discuss. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

“When we’re in a scene, in private, you’ll address me as Sir.”

She gently pursed her lips but didn’t object. “I understand, Sir.”

Over the years, at clubs, at parties, with subs he’d played with, he’d been called Sir. But the term hadn’t had any impact on him. It had held no power. Coming from her now, it was like a slam to the solar plexus. That she’d called no one else Sir did crazy things to his brain circuitry.

He opened her top two buttons. Though he could see the flutter of her pulse in her throat, she said nothing.

Then he parted the material.

Her demi-bra lifted her breasts, leaving most of her flesh bare, but her nipples were hidden. She was lace, innocence, seduction. He knew this image of her would be seared into his mind.

Unable to resist the temptation of the woman who might be his future bride, he brushed the pads of his thumbs across her honey-kissed skin.

Her eyes drifted shut.

Emboldened by her sensual reaction, he stroked inside her bra and gently rolled her nipples.

She swayed toward him.

“Lovely,” he said, exerting more pressure.

“Yum,” she said.

“Yum?” He wasn’t sure he’d ever had that reaction from a woman before. He liked it. “More?”

“Maybe.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “I might be too chicken.”

Looking at her to gauge her reactions, he squeezed her nipples a tiny bit harder. Before she could process what he’d done, he backed off.

“That…”

“You liked it?”

“Yes.”

He teased, waited.

“Yes, Sir,” she amended.

“Good girl.” He gave her what she’d asked for, this time holding on a little longer. “Too much?” he asked when he’d released her.

“No,” she admitted. “Not at all.”

She had at least a small taste for pain.
Intoxicating.

This time, he rolled her nipples, pinched them, pulled on them, drew her onto her toes. In reaction, she bent her knees. “Oh, yes,” he said. He pushed her bra down, out of the way, then bent to lave each nipple with his tongue, sucking on each tip to soothe it.

She reached for him, hands on his shoulders. “Nice,” he told her. He waited until her breathing had steadied a bit before saying, “But I’d told you to keep your arms behind your back.”

Her eyes widened but she didn’t immediately pull away.

“You know what that means?”

“No.” She drew a breath. “No, Sir. But I’m afraid I can guess.”

“Yeah, you can. Tonight, if you dare, you can be punished for not following orders.”

She scowled, tiny lines digging in between her eyebrows. “I don’t think I’d like that.”

“You weren’t sure whether you wanted your nipples squeezed like that, either.”

“True.” She slowly uncurled her hands from his shoulders.

Part of him was tempted to tell her to leave them there.

She put her arms behind her back again.

“Very nice,” he said. “Now I’m going to kiss you.”

“Am I supposed to just stand here?” she asked.

“As opposed to…?”

“Participating?”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“I liked having my hands on you,” she admitted. “And I’ve been wanting to mess up that very perfect hair of yours.”

“You need to do a little reading up on submission.”

“Oh?”

“No talking without permission.”

“I see.”

He frowned.

She laughed, a genuine, seductive sound. “I told you I’m new. No experience. I’m bound to make mistakes, Sir.”

Connor reminded himself he’d already learned not to underestimate her.

“May I?” she asked. “Touch you?”

As he leaned toward her, she lifted herself onto her toes and met him. “Wrap your arms around me, Lara.”

She parted her lips in anticipation and he claimed them. The force of their kiss took him aback. He’d kissed dozens of women, but he’d never felt a searing connection.

Lara wasn’t tentative. She met his tongue, tasting, testing as deeply as he was. It was as hungry as it was natural.

When she laced her fingers behind his neck, he fisted a hand in her long hair and pulled her head back a little so he could deepen the kiss.

She offered herself to him with no resistance, not struggling, but rather, inviting. He accepted, lowering one hand to her derrière and drawing her against him, softness to sinew.