by Katee Robert
I’m terribly afraid that he’s right. “I’m scared.” I want to take the words back as soon as I voice them. The tenderness on his face isn’t enough to combat how vulnerable I feel.
“You should be.”
Before I can process that, he urges me to my feet and takes his time stripping me. Shock leaves me placid and malleable. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. It’s certainly not that I crave Hook’s hands on my body, crave the way he touches me as if every brush is a gift I’ve given him and that he’s taken as his due.
I finally find my voice as he slides my panties down my legs. “What the hell do you mean I should be afraid?”
“The very best pleasure is spiced with fear. Do you deny it?”
I start to do exactly that but force myself to stop. We crossed the threshold into a scene the moment I hit my knees. I chose this. If honesty is all but a detriment in the rest of life, it’s vital during this flavor of play. “No, I don’t deny it.”
He nudges me away from the bed. “Your safe word?”
It might be protocol to check in like this before every scene, especially with a new partner or new relationship, but I can’t help feeling like that’s not what this is. I speak through gritted teeth. “Pirate.”
“There it is.” He grins. “Can’t say I get tired of hearing it.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Without a doubt.” He rakes me with a rough gaze I can almost feel. “Stay put.”
He moves behind me, and I can hear him rustling around in something, maybe the locked cabinet near the wardrobes. I poked at it a bit when I was initially doing my explorations, but there was no key in evidence, and even I draw the line at breaking open something that obviously cost a fortune just for curiosity’s sake. Especially when I already had a good idea of what it contained.
A few moments later, he reappears with a long length of black rope hanging from his hand. Hook raises his eyebrows at me, but I clamp my mouth shut before I can give him the satisfaction of a response. I love bondage as much as the next kinky asshole, but Shibari is something beyond slapping a pair of cuffs on someone’s ankles or wrists. It’s a study in patience and slow-roll foreplay. I’ve played that way once or twice, but there’s a lot more trust involved than people expect. If I need to safe out, it’s not as simple as unclasping cuffs. It can take ages to get free, and Doms can be really freaking precious about anything that might damage their ropes.
My breathing picks up despite my determination to keep my reaction under control. Hook’s brows draw together, and now he’s really looking at me. “You’re not claustrophobic.”
“Not particularly.”
Another of those long looks, and he nods, almost to himself. “I see.”
I’m terribly afraid that he does see. I open my mouth, but can’t quite find the words. What am I supposed to say? That as much as I get off on exploring all the strange corridors BDSM can take a person down, that part of me is always held in reserve? When I worked at the Underworld, it was easy to hold back that final piece. I was just an employee, after all. A professional submissive who rose to whatever occasion the schedule demanded. Yes, I played for fun, too, but it was different.
This is different.
There are no cameras in this room, no emergency button to push, no team of security people to rush in if things get out of hand. We have nothing but trust to keep us from going off the rails.
I don’t know if it’s enough.
“Tink.” Hook’s firm voice stills my thoughts. The intense look in his dark eyes stills them further. He waits for me to focus on him fully. “Would you rather I put the ropes away?”
A tiny, cowardly part of me wants to grab the escape he offers me with both hands. Easier to do that than take ownership of what I truly do want. It would be so much simpler if he steamrolled over me. I could pretend I didn’t really want exactly what he gave me. How am I supposed to keep fighting when he carefully extracts my desires and lays them before me?
I clear my throat. As much as I want to look away, I can’t quite manage it. “No, I don’t want you to put the ropes away.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t give me anywhere to hide. “You have nothing to prove.”
“That’s rich coming from you.” I shake my head. I hate that he keeps orchestrating emotional confessions. We haven’t even fucked yet, and I can’t deny the way he builds intimacy around us. I feel seen. It’s not comfortable, not even a little bit, but there’s a part of me that soaks up his attention like the roots of tree long thought dead from drought. “The ropes…” Fuck, why is this so hard? “Most other scenes, I say my safe word, it’s over immediately, you know? The action stops, the curtain comes down, then it’s just negotiating the little bit of fallout. This kind of thing … It can’t stop that quickly. Saying yes to this feels like saying yes to more.”
“Trust.” He speaks the word like it’s fine wine on his tongue. Like it’s me on his tongue. “It requires trust that I won’t take us too far.”
“Yes.”
He still hasn’t moved. “If you’re not ready for that …”
I could kiss him. I could definitely kill him.
I run my fingers through my hair, but the little movement does nothing to quell the growing feeling in my chest. “If I wasn’t ready for anything you can give me, I would haven’t just crawled across the floor and begged for your cock. You said a little fear is a good thing, so stop dicking around and give me that little bit of fear.” I have to look away to say the next part. I can’t handle what I might see in his eyes. “I trust you, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
His low chuckle has me glancing at his face, and I almost whimper with relief at what I see there. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by the arrogant asshole I’m more familiar with. “Very well.” He loops the rope carefully around my neck and begins.
I only manage to stay tense for the first five minutes or so. I don’t know what I expected, but he’s fully concentrated on his work, his big hands winding the rope around my body and creating careful twists that slowly bind me. There’s no rushing this process. Subspace creeps up on me somewhere around the point when he finishes the ladder down my torso, a row of perfectly neat twists that start on my upper chest and descend to my waist. He checks each one and the tension before moving to guide my arms behind my back.
Only then does he begin to speak, to slowly, devastatingly, draw me back into my body as he binds my arms together. “One day, I’ll do both arms and legs and add one careful knot right here.” He brushes his hand against my pussy, right over my clit. “Every time you struggle, it will grind that pretty little clit against the knot. How many times do you think you’ll come before I release you?”
I lick my lips. “Maybe I won’t struggle.”
“Yes, beautiful girl, you will.” He does something that cinches my arms together more firmly. It’s not uncomfortable, but Hook still checks in with me just like he has at every other point during this process.
I pull on the bindings. I can’t seem to help myself. Logically, I know I won’t be able to just shrug these ropes off, but the physical reminder has my heart beating faster. My skin tingles in a way that is entirely too pleasant, and I clench my thighs together.
“There she is.” His hands close around my shoulders, and he pulls me back against him. My hands brush against his hard cock, but with my palms pressed against each other, there isn’t a damn thing I can do about the proximity.
Hook palms my breasts. The ropes crisscross above and below, leaving my breasts to hang freely without restriction, but it suddenly feels like he put them on display on purpose. Of course he did.
His rough palms drag over my nipples, and I fight down a moan. Every part of me feels overly sensitized, as if the calm during the binding only masked a growing desire I have no way to control now that it’s been released.
He rotates us to face the full-length mirror near the wardrobes. This time I can’t hold back my moan.
I look—I don’t have the words to describe how I look. The dark ropes contrast my pale skin, and the lines frame every dip and curve of my body. Parts of me that I love and am self-conscious of, depending on the day. It’s a relatively simple pattern, but it still feels like he turned me into art.
Behind me, Hook is watching me with dark eyes that are so hot, I might combust on the spot. He holds my gaze as he plucks my nipples, the sensation so acute, it’s almost painful. “I’m going to bend you over my bed and fuck you until you can’t do anything but come.”
I suck in a harsh breath. I knew this would happen, of course. But the dark intent written across his face truly highlights how helpless I am in this moment. He can bend me over any surface, and I won’t be able to do anything but take what he gives me. Hell, even if I lost my mind and tried to run, it’s not as if I can work a doorknob with my hands bound like this.
The flicker of fear the thought brings only heightens my desire. I’m well and truly at his mercy. “Do it.”
“Not yet.” He steps away from me, and I almost stumble from the absence of his warmth at my back. I watch him in the mirror as he moves to the foot of the bed and flips up the comforter to pull out a bench that had been tucked beneath the frame. He hauls it over and sets it down behind me. “Sit.”
The command is deceptively simple. With my arms pinned, my balance isn’t quite what it should be, and I have to move slowly to avoid toppling over as I sink onto the bench.
Hook runs his fingers through my hair, slowly, methodically. I want to make a joke, but I can’t quite find the breath to do so. Not with him touching me almost reverently. This shouldn’t be enough to count as foreplay, but with every motion, I have to fight not to nuzzle against his palm like a cat seeking pets. His touch finally shifts, and I force my eyes open to watch him braid my hair back from my face.
“Why do you keep doing that?” I don’t mean to ask the question, but I don’t mean to do a lot when it comes to this man.
“There’s little more annoying than getting hair in your face when you can’t do a damn thing about it.” He finishes the braid and smooths a hand over his work. “And it’s important to me to see every single reaction on that expressive face of yours, especially when we scene.”
“Oh.” Suddenly I feel a whole lot more naked. “Do you normally put this much thought into a scene?”
“Yes.”
That makes me look at him more closely. I’ve … misjudged him? I always knew Hook hid a lot behind that arrogant charisma, but I’m only beginning to realize how much.
He stops in front of me and sinks to his knees as gracefully as any submissive. The thought makes me snort. “You’re supposed to be the Dom. On your knees for no person and all that.”
“You know better.” The look he gives me has me squirming on the bench, though I can’t say for certain if it’s because I’m ashamed of my shit talking or simply a sheer bolt of lust. He pushes my knees wide and makes a sound as he looks at me that confirms… Yep, sheer lust. That’s what I’m feeling right now.
Somehow, my mouth keeps going even though my brain has long since shorted out. “Do I?”
“I do what pleases me, beautiful girl. Right now, it’s seeing you all wrapped up in my ropes, and your pussy wet with desire for me. You’re better than a birthday present.”
Before I can blurt out a response to that, he grips me under my thighs and tips me back. I’m still squawking at the sudden shift in balance, at being utterly at his mercy, when his mouth descends on my pussy.
Chapter 17
Tink
I don’t know where to look. At the image in the mirror of this man kneeling between my spread thighs, my body on display from the rope work. At the man himself, exploring my pussy with his mouth as if he wasn’t doing the same thing fewer than twenty-four hours ago.
The logic gets twisted up in my head, but I can’t help it. There’s no space for thinking clearly. There’s only his touch and the ropes holding me as helpless as his hands bracketing my thighs.
If he lets go, I’ll fall.
I’m terribly afraid that I’m falling despite that.
He sucks hard on my clit, and my frantic mental circling thoughts morph into a high keening sound. I’m only partially embarrassed to realize it’s coming out of my mouth. I thrash, but even I can’t say if I’m trying to get closer to his wicked tongue or put more distance between us.
It doesn’t matter. I’m completely at his mercy. I won’t be going anywhere until he allows it.
The knowledge spins beneath my skin, gathering strength and heat. Trapped, yes. But not helpless. A fine line we’re treading. Too far in either direction and he’ll trigger a response I have no control over. One of true terror.
“Tink.” He doesn’t look up, barely lifts his head enough to speak. “Tell me something.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer, which is just as well. I can’t quite find the breath in my lungs to form words with his lips ghosting over my clit. “How often did you watch me scene in the Underworld?”
He resumes circling my clit with his tongue slowly. Not quite teasing but also not getting me where I need to be. More like he wants to memorize the exact shape of me, to file away every involuntary shake and shudder and moan.
Like this means as much to him as it’s starting to mean to me.
“Every time.” The truth bursts from me before I have a chance to call it back. “I didn’t want to but … Every single time.”
“Mmm.” Another of those slow licks. “You have a favorite?”
My favorites are all more recent, all involving me. “You and Alaric,” I gasp. Alaric is one of the few switches on staff at the Underworld. “I love watching you top him.”
His dark chuckle curls my toes. “Dirty girl. It’s a shame he’s traveling for the near future. I suppose you’ll have to do with Gaeton as a substitute.” He glances up. “You really do want to watch me take his ass, don’t you?”
“Yes.” It’s not even a question.
“I’ll give you everything you want, beautiful girl. Everything you need.” He moves before I have a chance to register his plans. My view goes topsy-turvy as he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. I curse, but he just laughs and smacks my ass. “I’m not interested in having in him in bed with us right now, though. Tonight is about us.”
Us.
How can he disarm me with a single word? It’s not fair, but I can’t quite manage to dredge forth anger as he dumps me onto the bed, careful that I don’t land on my bound arms. Hook flips me onto my stomach and catches my hips to drag me to the edge of the mattress. He kicks my legs wide, the height of the bed ensuring I can barely touch the floor, and palms my pussy. “I’m taking what’s mine now.”
“Can’t take something I served to you on a silver platter,” I grind out.
His laugh licks up my spine. “True enough.” A crinkle of a condom and I turn my head to the side to watch him roll it over his cock. He doesn’t give me a show; he’s too intent on our destination. He notches his cock at my entrance and that’s the only warning I get before he plunges deep, sheathing himself to the hilt.
I whimper, but he doesn’t give me time to adjust. He palms my ass, squeezing and spreading me, and making a faint growling sound as if he can’t help himself. “The things you do to me.”
Something goes melty inside me despite my best efforts. I’m not even doing anything, and he’s so fucking undone by me. Hell if that isn’t as intoxicating as any drug I’ve ever tried. More, even.
He leans over me and gently guides my face to the other side. I see his intention immediately. From this position, the mirror gives a perfect view of us. He hasn’t taken off his pants, and the sight of him partially clothed against my nakedness and rope does things for me. It does a whole lot.
He pulls out almost all the way and slams into me. This time, there’s no stopping, no slowing down, no checking in. He’s sure of me. He damn well should be. I’m on my toes, trying to angle my hip
s to take him deeper, trying to move with his thrusts, trying to do anything but simply take it.
Impossible. I’m immobile and held steady by his big hands on my hips, by his ropes binding my upper body. The thickness of them rubs against my skin with every rough stroke, a slick slide that has me moaning almost as much as the feeling of his cock stretching me.
“Jameson.”
“That’s right, beautiful girl. See me.” There are layers to his words, depths I’m afraid to sink into for fear of drowning. This should just be fucking, but it doesn’t feel like only fucking. It feels like he’s reached into the very core of me and now he’s pulling out bits and pieces with every thrust, exposing the weak and terrified part I keep hidden.
My throat burns, and my eyes go hot. What the hell is happening to me? “I don’t … I can’t …”
“Let it go.” His soft command lashes me with more finesse than any flogger.
I come with a sob. I fight the orgasm the same way I fight the bindings, but the struggle only seems to make the pleasure go higher. The last shudder works through my body as Hook carefully turns me over and sits me up. He studies me, his dark eyes seeing too much. They always see too much.
I think I’m crying. I can’t be certain. I can’t be certain of anything anymore. My gaze drops to his still-hard cock, and for some reason that makes the horrible heat clogging my throat so much worse. “You didn’t come.”
“Not yet.” He frames my face with his big hands and strokes away my tears with his thumbs. I try to pull away, but he holds me immobile. “Tears don’t mean weakness, Tink. Even if they did, there’s no shame in weakness with those you trust.”
“You’re assuming a lot,” I whisper.
“No, I’m not.” He moves onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. I hate that I feel self-conscious on top of everything else, which only makes my emotional response that much stronger. I can’t stop the tears. I can’t even use my own hands to wipe them away.
I can’t do this.
