In Bounds

by Bronwyn Green

  “Long enough to enjoy the fact that there’s a gorgeous woman in my kitchen. And long enough to wonder if maybe we should just skip supper and go straight to bed. Or the counter. Or the table. I’m easy to please.”

  She smiled as the timer on the rice maker sounded. “You were the one whining about wanting Indian food. You can eat. Besides...” She walked to the fridge and pulled out his forgotten lunch bag and held it up. “You haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

  She put the bag back and grabbed a couple of bottles of cider and handed them to him with a grin and a quick kiss. “And I need you to keep your strength up for later.”

  “Point me toward the food.”

  “Chicken’s in the microwave, I’ll grab the rice and veggies.”

  Ivy rarely got nervous anymore when it was just the two of them, but there was something about the way she moved—or maybe it was the tone of her voice—that betrayed her agitation. It was hard to tell what it was. He’d think he was imagining it, but he’d become quite attuned to the subtleties in her moods in the last few weeks. Did it have something to do with lunch with Peyton?

  He waited for her to bring it up, but instead, they talked about his day, how his knee was feeling, and the likelihood of him getting off the injury list before the end of the season. Halfway through the meal, Charlotte called. He answered, and Ivy froze, eyes wide and body stone still, reminding him of a terrified rabbit.

  He didn’t mention anything to Charlotte about Ivy, and she slowly relaxed, but her gaze never left him. They were going to have to discuss her avoidance of all things Charlotte-related, but that would have to wait until they got a few other topics out of the way. But the conversation couldn’t wait too long. Charlotte and the kids would be returning home next week while Caleb stayed on a bit longer helping with his grandmother. Charlotte had wanted to know if Will would be available to pick them up from the airport. She wanted to spend a few days with Ivy before she had to return to the States. That made two of them.

  As soon as he’d hung up, Ivy’s phone rang. He sat quietly as she paced while she talked, shooting him glances every so often as if she expected him to jump up and down and scream, “I’m screwing your BFF, Charlotte, and she’s kinky as fuck.”

  Instead, he got up and quietly took care of putting away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher while she told his sister about all about the bucket list trips. When they eventually hung up, he was wiping down the counters, trying to ignore the ache that scratched at him when he thought about how adamant she was about keeping their relationship a secret. He had a feeling neither of them were going to like that discussion, but it had to happen. Just not tonight. There were other things on the table ahead of Charlotte. Like Peyton. And what had gone on after she and Ivy had left the arena.

  “How was lunch today?” he asked as she added soap to the dishwasher.

  It was the most neutral way he could think of to phrase the question.

  She started the wash cycle then turned toward him with a smile. “It was great. I really like her. I mean, obviously, there were some awkward moments.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But I suppose that’s bound to happen when you’re both fucking the same guy.”

  “Technically,” he said, drawing out the word and stretching, “only one of you is fucking this guy.” He arched his back then straightened, noticing her scanning up and down the length of his body.

  She dragged eyes up to his face and swallowed hard as their gazes caught and held.

  “And I have no plans for that to change.”

  She moistened her lips and lifted her hands as if she was going to reach out and touch him, but they fluttered to her side. She seemed even more nervous than she had earlier. Was it Charlotte’s call or his question about Peyton that had her so amped?

  “I made apple cobbler for dessert,” she blurted.

  He blinked several times, trying to adjust to the sudden conversation shift. Finally, he said, “I think we should save that for after.”

  Her brow furrowed. “After what?”

  “After whatever it is I’m supposed to keep my strength up for,” he said, trailing his fingertip from the hollow of her throat down to settle between her breasts. “Unless you really want dessert, right now.”

  She took a deep breath and slowly shook her head. “It can wait.”

  Sliding her hand into his, she led him to the bedroom, stopping next to the bed. She turned, and rising to her toes, pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Before he could respond, she stepped back.

  He watched, waiting to see what she was going to do.

  She slipped off her skirt and tossed it onto the chair in the corner, leaving her clad in nothing but a long jumper that hung to the middle of her thighs. Her teeth sank briefly into her lower lip as she grabbed the hem and pulled the garment up and over her head, revealing a dark green corset and matching knickers. Knickers that were clearly very damp.

  Her gorgeous tits were pushed up higher than usual, and her already lush curves were even more pronounced. She was always stunning, but there was something about seeing her in this, knowing she’d worn it specifically for him, that made him ache to touch her. His tongue stuck to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth, and he nearly passed out from the sudden loss of blood.

  She still looked incredibly nervous. He knew how hard this had to be for her. Despite regularly reassuring her that she was the most beautiful women he’d ever known, she was still self-conscious about her body. And here she was, putting herself on display. For him. He took an unsteady step toward her.

  Her eyes darted to his then she turned and took something from the top dresser drawer. When she faced him again, she had a leather crop and cuffs resting across her upturned palms. She took a few steps toward him, and swallowing hard, lowered herself to her knees, her hands trembling slightly.

  He stood there, stupidly unmoving and silent. “Fuck me,” he finally whispered.

  Her gaze lifted to his. He still hurt all over. Adjusting to training after only a minimum of physical activity during the healing process was painful. But that discomfort practically vanished at the expression in Ivy’s eyes.

  So many things swirled in their gray depths—vulnerability, desire, uncertainty, and trust. It was the trust that completely fucking undid him. She trusted that she could bare herself to him—literally and figuratively—and he’d see to her needs. He’d take care of her.

  His chest ached slightly at the clear-eyed confidence she had in him. It wasn’t exactly painful. Not quite. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, either. He was like the god damn Grinch, his heart growing past the boundaries of that little wire cage that had been holding it in place until Ivy had come along again.

  He lifted the cuffs and the crop from her hands, and she dropped her eyes. Tilting her chin until she was meeting her gaze, he said, “On your feet, love.”

  Will slid the loop on the end of the crop around his wrist then opened and separated the cuffs from their length of chain. He was willing to bet that Peyton had something to do with this, but he wasn’t about to bring her into the bedroom. Not when he was about to give Ivy what they both apparently wanted.

  “You mentioned wishing you’d picked up cuffs,” she murmured, watching as he unfastened the supple leather.

  “That I did.” He secured one around her left wrist and then her right. “How do they feel?”

  She wiggled and twisted her wrists, and he didn’t miss the little shudder that worked through her body. “Good.”

  “Stand behind the footboard.”

  Following his direction, she stopped when he settled his hand on the silky fabric covering her stomach. Her hitching breath practically vibrated through his palm.

  “Now, bend at the waist and hang on to the top bar.”

  As soon as she did, he wrapped the chain around the top rail and reattached it to the cuffs. She wasn’t going anywhere unless she safeworded or they were finished.

  Ivy turned her head to watch him as
he laid the crop on the bed and stripped off his shirt. The rest of his clothes quickly followed, and her gaze seemed glued to his cock. He grasped the base and roughly stroked the length.

  Whimpering, she wriggled, rattling the chain against the metal bed frame.

  “Something you want, love?”

  She moistened her lips as if she was preparing to take him into her mouth.

  He continued to stroke himself as he moved closer, smearing the pre-come with his fingers. Still staring at his hand, she opened her mouth in invitation. He shoved several of his damp fingers inside her warmth and let her suck his taste from them.

  She shifted, moving her hips as if she was trying to get a little friction going. He brought his other hand down on her arse. Hard. She gasped, and her eyes practically rolled back into her head.

  “Legs apart,” he snapped.

  A shudder worked through her, and she drew harder on his fingers. Pulling them free, he climbed onto the mattress and knelt in front of her. He made sure she could reach him to pinch him if she needed to, because her mouth was about to be very full.

  “You want my cock?”

  She nodded, her head bobbing almost desperately. “Please fuck my mouth.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Please fuck my mouth...?”

  She raised her eyes to his. “Please fuck my mouth, Sir.”

  The last syllable had barely passed her lips before he was shoving inside. Snapping his hips forward, he bottomed out at the back of her throat. She whimpered, and the vibrations shot through him. He knew it was going to be a miracle if he didn’t come within the next few thrusts.

  He fisted both hands in her hair and held her still as he drove forward, stretching her lips while she tried to lick and suck him.

  “You love this, don’t you?” he murmured. “Barely able to catch your breath, my cock leaking all over your tongue, me fucking your pretty face.”

  She groaned in response, and he pulled out. She groaned louder as he climbed off the bed altogether, and he slapped her ass again—hard enough that heat spread through his skin.

  “Pouting doesn’t become you, love.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ivy moaned. She’d wanted Will to finish in her mouth before they moved on to other things. Making him lose control had become one of her favorite things. And watching him as he lost it was even better. She could admit that part of the allure was being the one responsible for giving him that pleasure—to have the power to push him over the edge.

  Now, he stood behind her, running his fingertips over her bare ass cheeks as he reached over the footboard to grab the crop. Dear god, seeing his big hand wrapped around the handle flooded her cunt with a fresh rush of arousal. She’d be amazed if it wasn’t running in rivulets down her thighs.

  She shivered as he trailed the leather-wrapped rod up the outside of her leg. “Should I assume that lunch also included some shopping?”

  “Yes,” she gasped as he tapped the rod against her thigh.

  “Yes...?” he asked, striking the same spot harder.

  She swallowed thickly. “Yes, Sir.”

  He massaged her ass cheek, digging his fingertips into her flesh. “Good girl.”

  A shudder worked through her at his words, and she rested her forehead on the backs of her hands.

  He grabbed her hips and bent over, sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of her ass where it connected to her thigh. She startled, and a squeal escaped. But his iron-like grip held her immobile as he swiped his tongue over the bite mark, softening her squeal to a groan.

  He tugged on the bodice of the corset. “Is this new, too, or did you have it hiding in your suitcase?”

  “It’s new. I thought it was pretty, and...I wanted to surprise you,” she admitted. She was still feeling a bit self-conscious wearing it in front of anyone—even Will—but the look on his face when he’d seen her had been worth any awkward discomfort she’d experienced trying it on at the store and the equally awkward anticipation of showing it to Will.

  He slid his hand between her legs and cupped her swollen, aching pussy, and she couldn’t help herself, she rocked against him.

  “Oh, you surprised me. So much that I nearly came in my pants as soon as you took off that jumper.”

  He removed his hand and replaced it with the crop and slid the rod back and forth, pressing it and the crotch of her thong into her cleft.

  “You want this?”

  She nodded. She wanted it so badly. Will’s hand and flogger had already brought her indescribable amounts of pleasure. She had to know what the crop felt like. No, she had to know what it felt like when Will used it on her. Soon, there wouldn’t be another chance.

  “Need to hear your words, love.”

  “Yes, Sir. I want this.”

  He hooked his fingers in the elastic waist of her underwear and jerked them roughly down her legs, causing her stomach to clench in excitement. He left her panties dangling above her knees and moved to stand beside her. His big warm hand settled at the small of her back, his heat slowly seeping into her skin through the fabric.

  “You remember your word?” he asked, running the crop up and down the backs of her thighs.

  “Y-yes, Sir.”

  “Good. We’ll experiment and see which kind of impact you prefer.” Without warning, he brought the crop down, it whistled slightly through the air, and she had a moment to brace for it. The little leather tip snapped and stung against her flesh. He repeated the action, landing the tip on different parts of her bottom and thighs.

  “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Arse and thighs turning pink for me. Pussy dripping,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to her. “Cunt all ready for my cock.”

  Her skin tingled and ached, her nerves stretched taut as she tried to predict where the leather would fall next.

  He shifted—the only warning that he was changing up his strike pattern. The rod fell across her cheeks, the pain sharp and pinpointed. It made contact again, across the backs of her thighs this time. Then higher where her ass met her legs.

  She squirmed, crying out. It hurt, but like the flogger, she waited for the pain to blossom into something more. For it to morph into pleasure. He hit her, again and again, alternating between the shaft and the leather tip, and she sank into the pain, allowing herself to relax into this connection with Will. The shift, she was waiting for, happened. Pain evolved, sliding into hunger and a need for more.

  Groaning, she lifted into his stokes, offering herself to whatever he wanted to give her. Offering herself to him. Her pussy ached, desperate to be filled, but she couldn’t bring herself to move him along any faster. Instead, she spread her legs farther, presenting more of herself to him.

  Will’s muttered curses and the sound of the crop hitting the bedroom floor drifted to her from miles away. She was dimly aware of him grabbing a condom then setting the wide head of his cock at her entrance. He didn’t pause; he just shoved into her, filling her completely, the force of it pushing a scream from her throat.

  He stretched her grasping channel, and at this angle, the friction of his piercings was more intense than ever. And the sensation of his skin rubbing against her abused flesh was almost too much. And at the same time, it wasn’t enough. It hurt in the best way.

  She cried out again, and he reached forward and clapped his hand over her mouth. The feeling of his palm hampering her ability to breathe and his body grinding into her was all it took. He pumped into her twice more, and she was coming. Hard. Screaming into his hand, she clenched around his cock. Her orgasm seemed to go on and on.

  Finally, when the last ripple faded, he pulled out and stripped off his condom. It dropped wetly to the floor as he slid his fingers through her sopping pussy then started roughly jacking himself. Craning her neck, she looked over her shoulder at him. The backs of his fingers brushed across her aching flesh as he stroked himself faster and faster.

  He glanced up and met her gaze—the look in his eyes almost feral. Thei
r connection didn’t slow his motion. If anything, it only increased it.

  “So fucking pretty,” he grunted. “All pink and red. Gonna cover you. Gonna come all over you.”

  Her pussy twitched at the need in his voice. She pushed her ass out. Pushed herself toward him as far as she was able, still cuffed like she was.

  “You want it?” he demanded. “You want my come?”

  She whimpered. She was this close to another release—just from his voice, the tortured expression on his face, and a few careless strokes of his fingers against her skin.

  “Yes, Sir,” she breathed. “I want you to come all over my ass. Please,” she added, remembering how he liked it when she begged. “Please come on me. Please, Will.”

  He grabbed a handful of her hair to anchor himself and stroked harder. The wet sound of their combined juices slicking his cock as he pumped into his hand settled low in her pussy.

  “I want to feel it. Need it,” she begged.

  He twisted his hand in her hair as his jaw went slack and he continued to push into the circle of his fingers. The sensation of scalding thick jets of come spurting all over her ass and the hand pulling her hair was enough to push her into one last tumbling release.

  Gasping, she dragged air into her lungs as Will’s hand loosened in her hair. Slowly, she became aware of Will tracing what she assumed were lines from the crop with his fingertip, rubbing his spunk into her flesh. A shudder worked through her at the sensation.

  She pried open her eyes to find him watching her.

  “Did you just come again?” he asked. “Just now, when I did?”

  She nodded. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she admitted. “I’ll be seeing that every time I close my eyes for the rest of my life.

  He traced a few more welts across her ass, smearing his seed over her skin. She watched him, opening her mouth when he lifted his fingers. Shaking his head, he brought them to her lips and pushed them inside. “You’re trying to kill me.”

  She sucked his fingers clean, reveling in his taste as she swallowed. When he pulled out, she said, “The feeling’s mutual.”