Handcuffed by Her Hero (22 page)

She was glad she had a good grip
on his arms. They kept her from swaying at the impact of his words, which
already swirled such a thick erotic haze into her mind, her vision went cloudy.
Gazing up at him didn’t make things easier. His dark hair tumbled against his
jaw. His gaze penetrated her like a pair of solid bronze javelins. His wide,
dark torso made her feel small and helpless in all the oh-so-right ways,
especially as he dug his fingers into her hips with increasing purpose.

“Y-yes,” she finally got out.
Shit, even the chest hair that tapered between his pecs was perfect, stabbing
between her fingers with coarse tension.

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, Sir.”

She dipped her head again. It
felt natural, almost right. Best of all, it brought out the rugged vibrations
from deep within him again, making its way through to her body, causing the tips
of her breasts to shiver like flowers answering to the wind.

“God
damn
, that sounds
beautiful on your lips.” He roamed his grip up her body and back down. His battle-roughened
fingers abraded her hips, her waist, her shoulders and the sides of her
tingling, taut breasts. “And I’m going to fucking love hearing you say it, over
and over again. Right now, you’ll position yourself on the couch again for me,
exactly as I had you before. Rest your forehead on your arms and push your
gorgeous ass into the air for me.”

He backed the directive up by turning
her to face the couch again. “I’m going downstairs to get some things. You’ll
wait for me like that, and you’ll think about how I’m going to touch you
exactly how I please. You’ll think about how incredible this spanking is going
to feel on your beautiful skin.”

Incredible?
She was glad Z
couldn’t see the pucker on her face as she arranged herself back into the
position he’d specified. It was one thing to fall into this stance by accident
due to his passion but another to willingly brace herself again, her legs open
and her body exposed…to an empty room. It felt awkward. And more than a little
ridiculous. Surely he could have just told her to sit on the bed and wait for
him, right? What good was this going to—

She stopped the inner rambling
when she heard him rustle around downstairs. The clangs and bangs suggested he
was in the kitchen though she couldn’t be sure. He pulled out drawers and
opened cabinets, interjecting his journey with wicked chuckles—which drove her
curious tension even higher.

To her wonder, the mental
friction carried repercussions in her body, too. Since she was alone in the
room with nothing but her breath for company, her mind fast became an empty
mental playground for Z’s words to play in. They took full advantage of the
chance, too.

Think about how
I’m going to touch you…

That one jumped on the
teeter-totter that alternated between her breasts. The syllables traded the
blistering taps between each nipple, sucking away her breath each time they
did.

Exactly as I
please…

Down the slide and straight into
her sex was that one’s pleasure, fingering her clit with its hot assumption as
if the words were Z’s own fingers. As every pore in her body opened and
shivered, she gasped.

You’ll think
about how incredible this spanking is going to feel…

That one gave her no choice about
doing anything else, turning the slide into a waterpark as the deepest channel
in her body rushed with a new river of arousal. She grimaced with the effort of
holding back a needy mewl, forgetting about her effort of deciphering what Z
was up to, only wishing he’d finish fast and get the hell back up here. When
another full minute went by and he still seemed content to whomp around
downstairs, she started twisting her hips a little, answering her pussy’s need
for more stimulation.

“Ohhh, bird.” Though his baritone
hit the air with no more volume than a mutter, it seized every muscle in her
body. “That’s
not
exactly how I left you.”

“But it’s what you turned me
into.” The desperate need between her thighs punched the override button on his
rule about her words. “You ordered me to stand here thinking about your touch
and your hands, and—”

“And this is how you get when you
think about those things?” Though his voice was mild, his fingers weren’t. He
pushed two of them up her vagina from behind, without warning or hesitation.

“Ahhh!” she cried. He shocked
her. Invaded her. Consumed her. Though he touched her nowhere else, her entire
body reacted to his harsh penetration, his total power. Her legs trembled. Her
stomach coiled. Her senses reeled.

“That’s not an answer.” Mild
jumped off the deck of his tone now. His puma was back and consuming that space,
snarling every word with predatory focus. “Answer me, Rayna. Is this what your
body does when you think about my hands on it?”

“Ohhh.” The exclamation slipped
from her as he twisted his fingers, possessing her tunnel with ferocious
strokes. She willed herself to nod then rasp, “Yes…yes, Sir. This is what my
body does when I think of you touching me.”

“Your skin always pebbles so
beautifully like this? Your tits tighten and get this hard?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“And your gorgeous thighs…they
always flex like this, so they make your ass clench, too?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And your cunt drips like this,
turning into the sweet cream that’s calling to my cock even now, honey?”

“Yes!” It erupted on a sob, high
and needing, as her body gripped his rough fingers, drawing him deeper inside.
Higher. Harder.
Yes…

“Hmmm.” He damn near drawled it,
making her want to shriek. How could he stand there sounding like the walking
poster for
Keep Calm and Dom On
, when she’d never been so turned on from
a man’s fingers? Only two of them at that? “You know what that means, then?” he
asked, joining his other hand to the cause by pressing it into the small of her
back.

She wanted to fling back a quip so
sexy and smart that it made him laugh a little, easing the air between them to
something less terrifying than an electric transformer about to overload. But where
would that leave them? She didn’t have to search deep to know the answer. She’d
be hiding behind sarcasm instead of showing Zeke her truth. Using humor instead
of letting him see this naked, unsure sparrow that didn’t have a damn clue
about what to do for him now, about what to say. But if she saved her pride,
she’d dismantle their honesty. She’d be yanking out the keystone of their
bridge.

She drew in a wobbly breath. As
she let it out, she answered him with all the trust her heart could muster. “N-no,
Sir. I have no idea what that means.”

His reply came after a weighted
pause. Zeke slipped his fingers from her pussy before he issued it in a growl
that clenched at every cell of her sex and curled into every fiber of her
spirit. “It means you’re a very naughty girl.”

Whack.

Thank God she’d just taken the
effort to breathe, because she couldn’t now. Her throat clutched from the emphasis
he gave in the form of his hand on her left ass cheek—or what remained of it.
This blow made his previous slap feel like a summer breeze.

Within seconds, he delivered an
equally blistering blow to her right side. Again to her left. Down once more on
her right.

At last, her stunned lungs found
air again. “Oww!” It wasn’t fast enough to prevent his third round of scorching
smacks. “Zeke! S-Sir! Shit!”

As she squirmed, he increased the
pressure on her lower back. The reasoning behind his hold made sense now, in a
not-so-assuring but oh-so-arousing kind of way. But how was that possible? How
could she let a man hold her down again,
ever
? And even worse, how could
she feel so damn good about it?

Because they were Zeke’s hands.
Because her mind knew, her
soul
knew, he was here to take care of her.
And in the dominion of his hands and the command in his next words, she felt
how she took care of him, too.

“Naughty girls get spanked,
subbie. Especially when their ass looks this good and their pussy drips this
wet—and they make their Dom go half insane just from walking in the room and looking
at them.”

So much for flippancy. So much for
forming any significant words beyond the tiny “Oh!” she squeaked before he gave
both of her buttocks another taste of the Zeke Hayes spanking special, this
time with a dose of the extra fiery sauce. Ohhh crap, did the man know how to
turn that meat in his biceps into whips that scalded every inch of her backside.
It wasn’t long before the flames caught on the kindling of her nerves and
licked up her body, making her quake and shudder with each stinging kiss from
his palm. It was so corrupt. It was so carnal.

It felt so damn good.

“Holy fuck.” His growl was a hot
and brutal crack in the air, stroking her senses like a blissful blow in its
own right. “You look more beautiful than I could have imagined, bird.” He raked
his hand up her spine, his touch becoming a gauging caress. “You feel okay,
too?”

That hand met her scalp as she
gave him a half-delirious nod. He plunged his fingers to the back of her head,
digging them in to push it down between her shoulders. “Outstanding,” he
murmured. “Yes. Lower this completely. Fucking beautiful. I love seeing you
bent for me…surrendering for me.” With his other hand, he smoothed the skin
that burned the most from his treatment, pressing the heat deeper into her
bottom, her thighs, and the most tender parts of the valley between her legs.

“You’re perfect, Rayna. So
goddamn perfect.” His touch turned into a rough buff. Soon he curled his
fingers, digging his fingernails into her sensitive skin. She hissed from the
hot, sweet torment. “Such a beautiful shade of pink,” he growled. “But now I
want to make it red.”

“Mmmm!” She hoped her long,
desperate moan conveyed how damn much she agreed with that.

“You’re amazing, honey. So
strong. Such a miracle. You can take more, and I’m going to give it to you.”

He gave her two seconds to
process that before starting the blazing blows again. He meted them harder than
before, making the air pop like a battlefield with each loud crack. Her body,
mind, and spirit exploded in a matching maelstrom. Lucid thought was a lost
cause. The blackness behind her eyelids exploded in orange, red, and white. The
colors sharpened as heavy tears seeped from their corners.

He kept up the fiery pace. The
tears seeped onto her lashes. He rubbed in the heat with flowing, forceful
fingers before starting again, ramping his impact higher. The tears spilled
over and rolled down her cheeks. It was brutal, wonderful insanity.

Holy shit.
What’s happening to me?

Trying to understand was as
useless as controlling it. She wanted to blame the wild surge on the physical
agony he was dealing, but every drop confirmed the truth: the inferno he opened
on her skin was just the beginning of everything else he flared in her. The bewilderment.
The amazement. All the feelings that rose from her soul in visceral, incredible
ways, the memories she’d been stuffing into dreams and dimming behind
medications, now rushed her soul like the wind that whipped outside…and burst
as unhindered emotion.

For the first time, the doors of
her senses were blasted open so wide, the past disappeared. The future was
nothing but mist. Nothing existed but this moment, and all it demanded from her.
The pain. The clarity. The excruciating agony, the blinding clarity.

Like a baby taking its first
breath, she gasped.

She was new. Restored. Reborn.

The revelation burst through her
chest and heaved through her lungs. It exploded from her on a sound between a
choke and a shriek. Lovely. She sounded like a dying seagull but was helpless
to care. The tears came in shuddering waves, drenching her, cleansing her. She rode
every redemptive wave, loving every lash that set her faster on the journey…

But needing more.

Craving something beyond his
hands. Longing for—

Exactly what he gave her.

The bite of his fingers at her
scalp. The knife of his teeth into her neck. The twist of her head in his hold.
Then the slice of his mouth on hers, bruising and consuming, ramming her lips
apart so he could stab his tongue into every recess she could take him. The
salt of her tears soaked the seam between their lips, enhancing every delicious
drop of his rugged male taste, causing her to open wider for him, to moan
deeper for him.

When he dragged away, his lips
only backed off by an inch. He jerked at the back of her head, raising her
higher. His gaze was dark and intense as summer sun while taking in every inch
of her face, including the wet trails down her cheeks. He bracketed her with
his other hand, pressing his fingers into her jaw and temple, giving her no
choice about letting him see exactly how he’d excavated her mind, her soul, her
heart.

“Little bird.” The words were an
intoxicating mix of reverence and violence. “Fuck. You’re already halfway over,
aren’t you?”

She was conscious of blinking at
him. Sort of. She didn’t know what mesmerized her more, the power in his touch
or the rough magic in his voice. “Over…where?” she whispered.