Handcuffed by Her Hero (8 page)

Zeke released her
hair, though he remained behind her. His legs pressed her shoulders. The force
of his stare scorched the back of her neck. “In answer to your query, since it
was asked so sweetly, I
am
pleased.” He stroked the top of her head. “Did
you comply with everything?”

The pause in his
words filled in the subject to which he referred. Like she’d forgotten it for a
damn second since he’d come in. Like the panty-less, pulsing walls of her pussy
would let her. “Yes, Sir,” she responded.

He stepped back.
“Then lean forward and show me. Full ass presentation, girl. Knees nice and
wide.”

Her heartbeat
rammed her throat, shoved there by a mix of terror and excitement. Fuck. He danced
at the edge of terminology for slave positions. Would he really go there with
her? Had he somehow reached that far down into her psyche, explored the deepest
shadows of her desires?

Zeke’s impatient
cough left those questions hanging. Shit, shit, shit. They’d barely begun and
she was blowing it. She pitched forward into the position he directed, pressing
her forehead to the carpet, her arms flat from elbows to palms. She raised her
lower body high, spreading her legs as he’d specified, which caused the slinky
dress to slide and puddle across the top of her back. Nearly all of her body
was now on display for Zeke. And everyone else in the room.

And all of them
could see how wet she already was for him.

“Holy shit.”

Quiet praise permeated
the words, which would have warmed every inch of her if Z had said them. The drawl
came from his friend, Mister Size Seventeens with the cute crooked tooth.

“Hey.” There was
a gruff slap, like the two men clasped hands. She couldn’t be certain, since
her eyes were barely an inch off the floor.

“You’re a lucky
bastard, Hayes.”

She really
liked
that guy.

“You also know
what other kinds of a bastard I can be.” Zeke’s response was full of tight
meaning.

“So you say.”

“So you’ve
seen,
Tait.”

The other man snorted.
“Fine. I get that you’re concerned. But you’re not in mission gear, this isn’t
a scum pond in Bumfuck Asia, and
she
is nothing like the pricks we’re
normally up against.” Another distinct pause. She felt him gazing at her, as
well. He audibly shifted in his pants. Was the guy really that hot from the
sight of her? And did that please or disturb Z? “With all that beauty to harness,
I don’t think ‘Psycho Zsycho’ will want to come out and play tonight.”

Psycho Zsycho?
She should have
laughed. Instead, a shiver claimed her. Every inch of her vagina got soaked
with anticipation, making her pussy tingle when the moisture hit the air. Sure,
Z was a well-built man and a masterful Dom, but it was the violence beneath his
surface that lured her like yin to yang…the animal in him, more than able to
handle the voracious beast in her.

And now, learning
his squad mates had
named
his animal…

Shit. Just shit.
She curled her fingertips into the carpet in order to keep the rest of her body
poised for him.

“The vote of
confidence is appreciated, man,” Zeke answered, “but you don’t understand. Right
now, I guarantee you that little beauty is wondering how fast she can meet the
Zsych Man. And how long he’ll stick around.”

She indulged a
smile. Damn, did that man know her. But why did he keep fighting it? Why did he
keep denying what they shared, everything they could be together? She was
determined those questions wouldn’t go unanswered tonight. He’d finally see her
truth. He’d finally see
her.

“She can wish it
all she wants.” The statement came from Tait. “But the last time I checked, you
weren’t her genie in a bottle.” There was a meaningful pause. “You’re here to
give her what she
needs,
Z.”

Luna gripped the
carpet again. Just anticipating Zeke’s answer rushed her stomach with delicious
terror and drenched her sex with illicit heat. Would he get it? Would he know?

“There’s the quicksand,
man. Zsycho out of the bottle
is
what she needs.”

She barely held
back a grateful sob. He understood. He really did.

Tait wasn’t so
ecstatic. “Fuck.”

“Now you know
why I need a babysitter.”

A drink glass
clunked against a table. “I’d better not finish this.”

“Bring it along.
You’ll probably need it later.”

“Affirmative on
that
.”

Like a meadow
beneath an approaching storm, every nerve in her body stood on end as Z moved
again. She shook but held her position, even when he crouched next to her. But
when he skated a hand down her back, scoring her skin in a slow drag, her moan
was uncontrollable.

His touch
roughened. So did his breath. Her body rose and fell in time to his
exhalations, her blood forming its lusty backbeat.

He didn’t stop at
the bottom of her spine. He rode the undulations of her ass, circling his long
fingers around one cheek then the other. By the fucking stars in heaven, he was
going to give her an orgasm before he gave her a single welt.

No. No!
She fought the
rush. Tried to clench her pussy against it. She didn’t deserve it. Not this
fast. She had to earn the pleasure. She couldn’t have the ecstasy before she endured
the agony. They’d made that abundantly clear at Saint Cecelia’s, hadn’t they? Over
and over again. You could take the girl out of boarding school, but boarding
school never really left the girl.

She shook her
head, wrestling back the memories in addition to the arousal. Tonight wasn’t
for those girls. They’d never rule her again. Zeke would banish them tonight.
Forever. His hands felt so good. So powerful. So right. He made it even better
as he straddled her again, looming while he curled his grip into her pooled
dress then tore the thing in half with one violent tug.

As the fabric
slipped from her body, her breath rasped from her throat. She whimpered,
melting beneath his brutality, soaking up his strength. She didn’t stop even
when he wound her braid around his fist again, using it as a handle for hauling
her to her feet. But she wasn’t standing for long. Another sweep of his arm
twisted her around to face him—for all of two seconds. One more yank and he had
her flung over his shoulder like a limp rag doll. Her face bounced against his
back. Her ass, firmly anchored by one of his hands, pointed toward Heaven.
Appropriate, since that’s where her mind was headed, too.

People greeted Z
during his descent to the club’s private play dungeons. He didn’t say anything
in return. She was grateful. Totally exposed and completely helpless, she
wasn’t in the socializing mood, either.

The man’s energy
intensified with every step. If he was a meadow storm before, he was a mountain
downpour now. His stomps echoed off the stone walls like thunder. She felt every
one of his breaths in her knees.

A tiny shred of
her mind wondered to which room they were headed. They called this the dungeon
level but some of the rooms were just role play sets. She sure as hell hoped he
hadn’t stripped her bare, only to shove her into a French maid or harem harlot
getup.

As soon as Zeke
turned into a room, she knew he hadn’t let her down. The temperature dropped by
a few degrees. The visceral smells of leather and iron filled her nose. His
footsteps resounded with ominous, bass-filled notes.
Yes.
They had to be
in the Stockade, the Crypt, or the Keep. She didn’t care which. All three rooms
were designed for what she needed tonight. No ceremony. No luxury. Only his primal
force unleashed on her willing body.

 He wasted no
time in getting started. As fast as he’d thrown her up on his shoulder, he let
her down. Though he took a second to make sure she had her balance, there was
no gentleness to his motions or his face. Part of her panged because of that,
before she shirked the feeling. She’d all but blackmailed him into this, so did
she expect a sweet kiss on the nose and a light swat on the ass?
Blech.
She
wasn’t Lucy Ricardo, and Z sure as hell wasn’t a bongo-beating nightclub
crooner.
Thank God.

The door thumped
shut behind them, followed by another set of footsteps. She heard Tait settle
himself on a couch in the little observation area in the corner. Again, the
force of the second man’s stare made her sex clench and her nipples pucker in
hyper awareness. Shit. Zeke was serious. He really did want a monitor on their
scene. She hated and loved how that made her shiver.

“Display.”

He gave the
direction with such calm power, she froze. Had she heard right? The command
didn’t hint at a slave position. It
was
one. Could she hope he really
knew about her fascination with those shadows of the lifestyle? Could she dare
think he would take her into them tonight? Use her in that raw, basic way?

During her
deliberation, Z stepped to a side table. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but a
quick glance revealed what had to be every extreme toy in the man’s kink arsenal.
He tucked away a few things she’d been too slow to see, but the large coil of rope
wasn’t going into any of his pockets. She wetted her lips in anticipation of
how he
did
intend to use it.

He arched a
thick brow. “I assume you understood the command, girl?”

“Yes! Of—of
course, Sir.”

Crazy. She was truly
nervous now. Her fingers trembled as she laced them behind her head, extending
her elbows to the sides, securing her feet a little farther apart…opening
herself to what he could do to there. She tried to concentrate on holding the
pose but as he circled behind her, she shook again. The storm was temporarily banked,
but the man in which it roiled made her feel like a sapling in comparison. She
needed him to tie her in with that rope. She needed to know she could fall
apart and the power of his bondage would catch her, contain her, cradle her
fall into joyful nothingness.

Z moved closer. Luna’s
eyes slid shut. Her skin prickled with expectation, awakening to his size, his
hardness, his power. God, she hoped he wasn’t gentle. She wanted to burn from
those coarse hemp fibers…

He didn’t wield
the rope. Instead, he clamped a hand to her braid again. “Be still.” His voice
went low while his grip tugged high. Her scalp throbbed in delicious pain as he
secured her hair to an overhead rig point that she couldn’t see. Before the
strands slipped too far, he twisted thick long leather cords around them,
securing the connection with rigid tugs. Luna breathed deep.
Damn.
That
smell. Leather was her chocolate, her Oysters Rockefeller. It woke her up and
turned her to goo in one glorious whiff. Just like that, she was even more
aware of every movement Z made, of even the slightest brush of his huge, strong
body.

He finally stepped
behind her again. She heard him uncoil the rope then measure its length with
definite calculation. With every long, steady stroke, her bloodstream danced
closer to the edge of her skin, filled with the imagery of letting him drive
his huge cock into her at just that pace…

Hell.

Or was this the
beginning of Heaven?

Why couldn’t she
wish for both?

The question formed
a beautiful dilemma as he laid the rope across the back of her neck. The hemp
was everything she hoped for. Harsh. Hard. Heavy. As he reached over to
crisscross the lines between her breasts, he settled his mouth next to her ear.
She let out a shivering, needing gasp.
Tell me what you’re going to do to
me. Tell it to me in a filthy growl. Tell me in illicit, immoral detail…please.

“Time to go over
the rules, Luna.”

No wonder the
bastard had tied up her hair. If her head was free, she would’ve snapped it with
a glower to singe his skin off. She had to settle for hissing at him in disgust.
“Yes, Sir.”

Zeke chuckled. “I’d
swat you for that tone, girl, but you’d love it too much.” He scratched her rib
cage with his nails as he looped the rope atop her navel then yanked the
lengths around her waist. “You know full well how I roll.”

“Yes, Sir.” She
gave him the frosty cone version of it this time. Why the hell not? If Mr.
Safe, Sane and Consensual wasn’t going to touch her until the D/s legalese was
complete, then Lady Attitude-With-Wheels was coming out for a spin, too.

“You have a problem
with that?”

“No, Sir.” She
supersized the frosty cone.

“Then you’ll
have no trouble giving me your safe word.”

Forget the frost.
She unleashed the ice storm. “Are you fucking serious?” Rules, she would do.
Guidelines, she would follow. But safe wording was the boundary she didn’t want
or need, and Z knew that. Hard limits?
Ha.
Safe words
were
her
hard limits. He knew that. But clearly didn’t care.

“That’s too many
syllables for a safe word,” he drawled while continuing to cinch her in,
twisting the rope around, laddering it up her spine with a series of masterful knots.
Damn him, He knew how good that felt, how much she loved this. “But I’m
confused,” he went on. “That couldn’t have been backtalk coming from you,
right?” He secured his next knot extra hard, locking in her whole torso,
squeezing her breasts between the ropes in front. “I’m not used to backtalk. That’s
also part of the rules. I like being obeyed.” He extended the ropes along her
shoulders, pulling her right arm straight and starting an intricate gauntlet
down its length. “I expect to be obeyed.”