In His Cuffs (13 page)

He touched her shoulder, then stroked down her spine.

It took at least a full minute for her to begin to move. “That’s it,” he soothed, tossing the belt on nightstand. The buckle hit with a thud that startled her. “I’m going to release your cuffs,” he said with reluctance, remembering the way she’d run after their night at the Den. This time, he wouldn’t allow her to put immediate emotional or physical distance between them.

He moved to open the cuffs. As he had earlier, he rubbed her wrists. This time, she was chafed from the metal. “Stay there,” he told her. “Please.” He crossed to the master bath and washed his hands. He found towels in a cupboard, and he dampened one before carrying it back to her.

Her body was heated and covered in a sheen of perspiration.

His strokes were gentle as he wiped her shoulders, lifted her hair to cleanse her nape then moved lower to give relief to the welts on her buttocks and legs.

“That feels good. Thank you, Mr Tomlinson.”

He finished by dabbing her pussy and ass before tossing aside the towel and turning her over. With extreme care, he removed the clamps. Then he moved her to the middle of the bed and lay beside her, pulling her against him. “Don’t fight me,” he instructed.

Surprising him, she obeyed. She laid her head on his biceps, and her hair spilled across him.

Outside, the sky’s colour began to change as dusk cast shadows across the Rockies.

As she emerged from her place of pleasure-pain, he noticed subtle changes in her. Her breaths became deeper. Her body conformed to his. Her temperature stabilised. He kept hold of her, though, so she stayed warm.

“That was…”

He waited.

“One of the best beatings I’ve had.”

One
of the best? “I’ll have to improve.”

She scooted away so she could face him. “I meant it as a compliment, Sir.”

He grinned and brushed hair back from her face. Her cheeks were still flushed. “Do you have bandages?”

“Mr Tomlinson?”

“This time, I fear my ego has sustained a mortal wound.”

“Well, I’ll volunteer my services so you can get more practise.” She gave a long-suffering sigh.

Sexy and sassy. This was the Maggie he was beginning to know, buried beneath layers of professional clothes and a haughty demeanour. The more she revealed the real her, the deeper he wanted to excavate.

He pulled her tighter against him and held her while she dozed. When she awoke and looked up at him, he got a full-on erection.

“Your turn, I should say, Mr Tomlinson.”

“Just to be clear, Maggie, I have no expectation that you have to sleep with me because I beat you.”

“I was hoping you would.”

He held her chin.

“It’s part of it, for me,” she admitted.

“I thought we had taken care of your restlessness.”

“You did.” Her big brown eyes were luminous. She blinked a couple of times, and if the woman was someone other than Maggie, he would have said the look was flirtatious. “Okay, fine,” she said. “Is this what you want to hear? I’m horny.”

He chuckled.

“I could give you a dozen emotional reasons, but I want sex. If you choose not to allow me to come, I accept that, but I really want your enormous, gigantic cock in me.”

“‘Enormous, gigantic cock’?” he couldn’t help but repeat.

“I’m trying to repair the damage to your self-esteem, Mr Tomlinson. Shall I go on? Gorgeous dick. Perfect penis. Throbbing—”

“Where’s that gag?”

“Are you going to do me, or what?”

“Well, when you ask so nicely…” He let her go long enough to get out of bed. He removed a condom from his wallet before placing it on the nightstand. Then he undressed and hung his clothes from a bedpost.

She turned on her side and propped her head on her upturned hand and watched as he put the condom on his dick.

“What
was
I thinking? That’s a gargantuan cock,” she said.

“Maggie… I think you’re forgetting yourself.”

She grinned and rolled to her back, spreading her legs in invitation. “Sorry, Mr Tomlinson.”

“I’d give you a paddling, but you’d like it.” He was as aroused as she was.

Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I could be brattier.”

“In which case, I’ll put you in a corner with your nose against the wall,” he warned as he joined her on the bed.

Colour drained from her face. “I’ll behave,” she said.

“Maggie, you couldn’t be any more wonderful.”

He guided his cockhead towards her entrance. He intended to enter her with short strokes so that her body could accommodate him. “You weren’t kidding about being horny.”

“I’m wet for you, Sir.”

He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the mattress above her.

“So hot,” she told him.

They were good together. He slid inside her in a single surge.

“That’s what I need. Hard, Mr Tomlinson.” She bit her lower lip. “I mean, if that’s all right?”

“I’ll fuck you however you want it.” He released his grip on her and said, “Put your legs around my waist.” That forced her to lift her hips and gave him a different angle. “Keep some of your weight on your arms or elbows so you can keep yourself open for me.” If she wanted a ride, he’d give it to her.

She looked at him, nothing but trust in her unblinking eyes.

It took all of his mental acuity not to lose himself in her hot cunt.

He drove into her again and again.

“This is… Damn. You’re so deep in me.”

Holding nothing back, he pounded her until she trembled, struggling to meet each of his surges. Her brow furrowed and she dug her heels into his back for purchase.

“Mr Tomlinson, I’m going to come,” she said.

Her words were as much a question as a warning. “Do it,” he instructed.

He felt her pussy clench and the constriction of her muscles milked his cock. He gritted his teeth, determined to satisfy her first.

He moved to put his hands beneath her buttocks, giving her extra support as she rode her orgasm.

She whimpered, and her body convulsed as she reached for it.

David spread her buttocks apart slightly and pressed his thumb into her anus.

Her scream rent the air.

Maggie broke position and grabbed his shoulders. She held onto him as she bucked and cried out.

For long seconds, she didn’t breathe. Then he felt her internal pressure ease.

She ploughed her hand into his hair. “Thank you.”

“Pleasuring you is an honour, Maggie.”

“Now your turn,” she said. “Before your big cock explodes.”

He’d have glanced pointedly at the gag, but he didn’t have the energy. If he were honest, he’d admit he didn’t want to look away. All he wanted was to fuck her.

David removed his thumb and adjusted their positions a bit. “Put your buttocks on the mattress and grab the headboard.” Once she did, he told her, “That’s it.” He had her where he wanted her, unable to move. He slid his hands beneath her and dug his fingers into the buttocks he’d reddened earlier.

With short, then lengthening strokes, he filled her. His orgasm built inside his balls. She muttered sounds of pleasure, feeding him.

“You fill me,” she told him. “So, so full.”

Knowing she was getting off was enough for him. It took less than thirty seconds for the orgasm to erupt from him—and that was what it felt like. It came from deep inside, hot and pulsing, joining them together.

He gritted his teeth as he filled the condom.

His nerve endings singed, he collapsed on her. God, this woman did it for him. Maybe it had been too long since he’d had sex with a woman he cared about. And perhaps it was the just effect of the curvy woman whose wild black hair matched her wanton abandon. Regardless, he hadn’t had this sense of connection in a long time, if ever.

When he’d worked out on his rowing machine this morning, he hadn’t anticipated the day ending like this. She wasn’t the only one who would sleep well.

He disposed of the condom then returned to her and scooped her up. “We need a shower.”

“We?”

“I’m not done with you yet. A shower will restore you for what I have in mind next.”

Chapter Six

Last night, when David had said he had something in mind for her, he hadn’t lied.

He’d washed her hair in the shower then lathered her body and inspected it for bruises. After they’d dried off, he’d asked if she had arnica. He’d massaged the white cream onto the marks then he’d rubbed down her entire body.

If this was his version of aftercare, she was sorry she’d missed out that night at the Den. She’d expected he might want to talk, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d put her on the side of the bed and fucked her from behind. He’d lasted a surprisingly long time, and he’d given her three orgasms before he’d claimed his own.

She’d fallen asleep in his arms, and it had been a long, long time since she’d done something like that.

Hours later, when her alarm had shattered the silence, he was gone. He hadn’t left a note. Other than the residual tenderness in her body and the fact her clothes were still in the living room, there was no sign he’d been there at all.

As she grabbed a cup of coffee, it hit her.

She’d slept all night with no bad dreams.

Being with him had been everything she’d hoped. He’d given her the beating she wanted. She’d surrendered to it, to him. He’d been ruthless and persistent, sending her to subspace and keeping her there.

The way he’d brought her back had been sublime. He’d let her drift, but he’d kept her aware of his presence. She’d known that he was watching her. If she’d been in any distress, he would have taken care of it, with great competence, she was sure.

Maggie wondered if that was one of the problems she’d had with him when they’d first met. His confidence had irritated her. She’d wanted to label it as over-confidence, but over the past months, he’d backed up everything he’d said.

Now, rather than chafing under his control, she was accepting it. Last night, she’d flourished as a result.

Conscious of the time ticking away, she hurried through her shower then walked into her closet.

She recollected some of his comments from last night. He’d been verbal about her undergarments and that made her hesitate over what to choose. Every day, she wore stockings and a garter belt to work because she liked the feeling. Today, though, he’d know what was beneath her skirt.

Even if he didn’t comment, their work dynamic would be altered.

She’d always been able to separate her BDSM scenes from the rest of her life, compartmentalising each piece. Of course, until now, she’d never had to face her Dom at the office the next day. Well, not that she’d ever had a true Dom before, either.

Maggie shuddered. She had been certain she could manage to work with him. After all, the contract wasn’t forever and they didn’t care about each other.

She snagged her lingerie for the day then shoved the drawer closed.

Before the scene had occurred, it had been easy to convince herself it was a good idea. Now the workday and reality loomed. Things appeared complicated.

In the mirror she saw a reflection of a red mark—a single welt—above the back of her knees. She fingered it the best she could with the awkward angle. Breath evaporated from her lungs. Even if she should, she didn’t regret last night. In fact, she wanted more.

There it was. Honesty.

She wanted to see him again.

When he’d been selecting toys last night, he’d announced that they were spending the weekend together. Since the air between them had been charged with eroticism, she wasn’t sure he’d meant it.

This was one of her biggest fears—the more BDSM scenes she got, the more she wanted.

With grim determination, keeping up a constant internal dialogue about how she could face him as if last night hadn’t happened, she dressed.

For fortification, she added a blazer and took extra time with her hair.

She entered the offices feeling as if she were in control.

“The tyrant hasn’t shown up yet,” her mother said.

Agreeing with Gloria would feel disloyal to David.

“It’s becoming a bad habit,” Gloria continued.

“He was the first one here yesterday,” Maggie said. She refused to add that she had no idea what time he’d made the drive from Littleton to Castle Rock.

Gloria had one elbow propped on the reception desk. A maxi skirt flowed over her hips and ended at her ankles. She wore thong sandals that showed off her toe rings and bright blue was splashed across her nails. Specks of white seemed dropped on the tops. She wondered if they were supposed to be flowers but couldn’t be bothered asking.

Barb was leaning back in her chair, cup of coffee in one hand, as if enjoying the show.

“Is there more of that?” Maggie asked, pointing at the coffee.

“Knew you were coming in,” Barb responded. “So it’s extra strong.” She made no attempt to go get a cup for Maggie.

Gloria’s neon-green painted fingernails were in stark relief against her white drink.

“It’s a tropical smoothie,” Gloria explained without prompting. “Coconut water, pineapple juice, orange juice, with whey protein and an energy booster.”

“Is that whipped cream on the top?”

“Non-dairy.”

“Uh-huh,” Maggie said.

“That’s what I told the girl I wanted. Anyway, when the tyrant can be bothered to drag his carcass in for the day, I wanted to have a talk about the Tyler account.”

“Isn’t the meeting scheduled for ten o’clock?”

“No sense waiting.”

“Which means you stayed up all night so you’re already exhausted and want to go home?”

“Creative genius knows no bounds.”

“Of course not.” Maggie wondered how any left-brain activities had been done in the last few years. Had Gloria always been this eccentric? Or had David allowed her full artistic personality to blossom? Some might label her a nut, but she was turning out the best work Maggie had ever seen.

Their musings were interrupted when David walked through the door.

“Ladies.”

Barb rolled her chair forwards and pretended to be working on the computer.