Her Only Desire

by Delilah Devlin

  The finger in her ass pulled out, then sank again, twisting inside, this time deeper, causing her tissues to burn, but not in an unpleasant way. Startling. Perhaps even delicious, if she weren’t so embarrassed.

  His finger plunged and held. The ones curled into her pussy withdrew. Then the fat head of his cock pressed against her entrance and slowly slid inside.

  Tilly gave a desperate groan. Everything clamped down—the mouth of her vagina, her tiny asshole. She pressed her face against the bedding, loving everything he was doing, but so shy she didn’t know how she’d ever look him in the eyes again.

  “Up on your arms, baby.”

  Her body stilled and she shook her head.

  Finger and cock withdrew.

  And she knew, her refusal had consequences because they were still playing. Something she’d forgotten while she’d been so engrossed in the turmoil swirling inside her.

  Disappointed in herself, she lowered her bottom and curled on her side to face him. When the weight on the mattress shifted, lightening, she worried that she’d displeased him even more than she realized. And why had she refused him? Something so simple. The fact her arms were shaking was hardly excuse enough. But she’d wanted to resist something, anything after she’d allowed him the dirtiest of intimacies, just to demonstrate a little free will and hold on to her pride.

  Blindfolded and lying nude in the center of a sumptuous bed, waiting for a billionaire player wasn’t something she’d ever prepared for. The fact she’d done her best to remain unimpressed with the trappings Boone brought had been a major feat, although she really hadn’t had to try that hard. Since the beginning, he’d purposefully kept her on shaky ground. Too off-kilter to regroup.

  Which was exactly where she was now, only the feeling was amplified by the fact she couldn’t see him.

  She followed sounds as he moved around the bedroom. The opening of a door, but not his bedroom door. The bathroom perhaps? Drawers slid open then closed.

  “I’m a patient man,” Boone said.

  His voice was close and she jerked because she hadn’t realized he’d returned. Had he come on tiptoe deliberately? The thought almost made her smile. Almost, but then she thought about what he’d said.

  Was he out of patience? What might the consequences be? He’d been firm about the fact he wasn’t letting her go, but would he care less? Would his desire for her diminish if she didn’t give him exactly what he wanted?

  Part of her hated how much that thought disturbed her, because it meant she really was falling hard for this man, and she couldn’t protect herself from the hurt that would surely come when their affair ended. Already, the thought pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe.

  A hand smoothed over her shoulder and down her arm. A finger gently rubbed a swollen nipple. Small caresses, but enough—her thoughts stopped whirling.

  “I think,” Boone said softly, “and you’re free to disagree, that you defy me for the express purpose of earning punishment.”

  Good Lord, was she that transparent? She shook her head, defiance once again swelling inside her. “That wasn’t what I was thinking at all.”

  “Really? Then what did go through your mind?”

  She sniffed. “That my arms were shaking.”

  “And that’s all?”

  Tilly didn’t want to go there, but she sensed Boone wouldn’t let her shy away from the truth. She turned her head, pressing her cheek into the mattress, wishing he didn’t have a full view of her expression. “After what you did…what I’d allowed you to do, I wanted…”

  “To take back a little control?”

  Lord, she hated the fact he knew her better than she did. “Yes,” she said in a small voice.

  His hand glided up, stopping to cup her cheek. “Tilly, I don’t want you to act against your nature or your instincts, ever. But will you agree, that sometimes, you don’t act in your own best interests? That you make things harder on yourself?”

  Was he thinking about the box or her refusal? She didn’t know how to answer. Inside, she felt as shaky as her arms had. “I think…right now, I’m deserving of punishment.”

  He chuckled. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t know how, sir.”

  “I’ll show you the answer you’re seeking, sweet little sub. Trust me a little longer?”

  She nodded. But only because he was using the voice again. The way he’d said sweet little sub in his dark, rumbling voice felt like a caress. Impossible to resist.

  “Since your arms are so weakened,” he said, his tone wry, “I want you draped over the edge of the mattress, feet on the floor, your ass pointed toward me.”

  Did he have a thing for asses? What about her pussy? The part of her that was swollen and wet and aching to be filled? But she didn’t dare hesitate for more than a second, because she was done with introspection and needful of what she knew he would give her in the end. She just had to be strong enough to let him mold her however he wanted, and he’d reward her. So she slid backward toward the edge of the mattress, and then lay facedown, her hips bent over the edge, her ass pointing toward him, her toes touching the floor.

  “Since you’re so feeble, I’m using something to hold your legs spread. I don’t want you exerting yourself.”

  “My legs are fine,” she blurted, suddenly breathless because the humor in his voice held a bite. He was planning something, preparing to surprise her—no doubt, to push her further than he already had. She drew a deep breath and waited.

  “This isn’t for you, Tilly. It’s something I want. Will you tell me no?”

  She bit her lip, but then shook her head. She’d do whatever he asked, and not just for the reward at the end, but to prove to him she was no wilting lily. “No, sir.”

  “That’s better.” Then he was behind her. A hand patted her rump, then smoothed down her inner thigh. Something was wrapped around her thigh, just above her knee. A band? She heard the metallic clink of a buckle as it tightened. He moved to her other thigh and fastened another band. Pushing apart her legs, he attached something else. Only when he moved away and she tried to close her legs did she understand its purpose. Her legs were held spread apart. Impossible for her to close. Now she lay, clutching the sheets, her feet completely off the ground and her most intimate bits vulnerable.

  This time, there was no embarrassment warming her cheeks. Excitement heightened the tension in her body.

  “Can’t have you sliding off the bed when those weak hands let go of the sheets.”

  She heard him circle. Heard two somethings drop on the mattress beside her shoulders. Tempted to reach out a hand and touch, she didn’t have to bother. He gripped her wrist and wrapped it, closing it with a scratchy Velcro fastening. He repeated the action, leaving both hands bound. Not until he pulled and she was gently forced to stretch out her arms did she figure out he’d somehow tied her to the bed.

  Her chest tightened. Tilly wasn’t sure she liked this. He could do anything he pleased. Or nothing at all. Her helplessness caused her a moment’s panic, but then she reminded herself, this was Boone. He’d promised he wouldn’t ask more of her than she could give. She took deep, calming breaths and relaxed into the restraints.

  He came around the bed and patted her bottom again. “Very nice. Just one thing missing.” He climbed onto the bed, straddling her waist but not dropping down his weight, and slid his hands around her face. “Open your mouth. I’m going to slip something inside. It’s called a ball gag. And at first, it’s not very comfortable. Don’t fight it. Relax your jaws, Tilly. Don’t hold them wide. Let the ball do the work.”

  Alarm shot through her. “Why do I need a gag?”

  “Tilly, I know you, sweetheart. You’ll try to protest what I do next. You’ll beg me for release. Maybe even curse and rail, but only for your pride’s sake. Let me set you free.”

  Heart pounding, she tensed her arms and tried to shake loose the bonds on her wrist. “Boone, this is a littl
e—”

  “Scary?” His hands massaged her bottom, thumbs digging into the small of her back. “Baby, this is just the beginning. I’ll admit, I’m chafing at the bit to push you along. I shouldn’t be this eager. I could slow down…”

  The soothing motions relaxed her, and she slumped on the bed. The way he talked, he intended this to be a long exploration. Like maybe he wanted her around for a while. When his hands slid beneath her and massaged her breasts, she knew she wanted to experience everything with him. She gave a little moan and tightened her breasts, all the movement she could manage to show him how much she loved the way his hands gently cradled her. She hadn’t thought about the future. But now that he’d put the idea in her mind, she wanted to be along for that long ride.

  Tilly turned her head. “This all so new, Boone,” she whispered, ready at last to accept his lead. “I’m not sure what’s expected.”

  He leaned over her, kissing her cheek. “You don’t have to think. I’ll do that for you.”

  “That sounds a little arrogant.” She wrinkled her nose. “Like I’m clay for you to mold. Like I shouldn’t have my own expectations.”

  He bit her earlobe. “Try me, sweetheart. Let me guide you. After we play, we’ll review.”

  “Now you sound like a coach for a football team.”

  “I am a coach.” He leaned away and his hand caressed her lower back. “But I’m also your lover. And I’m the one with experience.”

  Tilly released a deep breath. “This is pleasurable for you? Teaching a newbie, know-nothing?”

  “More than you can understand.”

  She girded herself to ask the question she hoped wouldn’t make her sound too insecure. But he was so much more experienced than her. “And if I disappoint you?” She held her breath.

  A kiss landed on top of her spine. “You can’t. The fact you’ve let me take you this far in so little time…It’s what tells me you’re ready for more.”

  She released the breath, somehow reassured by his confidence in her. “What are you going to do?”

  “You don’t want to be surprised?” he asked, that smile back in his voice.

  “I’d rather be prepared,” she muttered softly.

  Boone chuckled and then smoothed his large hard palm over her ass. His hand stopped and squeezed. “Baby, I’m going to flog you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  She went rigid, but not from dismay. She remembered how he’d gently stroked her with a flogger when she’d been bent over his desk. How the lashes had warmed her bottom, providing a surprisingly sensual pleasure.

  “Tilly, nothing painful, I swear, but a little harder than what I gave you before,” he said softly. “The first slaps of leather will surprise you. Once you’re past that, relax. Enjoy.”

  “And after that?” she asked, hoping he’d at last take her. She didn’t want to seem impatient, but her body was already wildly aroused.

  “I might use my hand to spank your pussy,” he said, his voice deepening into a gravelly rumble.

  She let out a surprised laugh. “Seriously?”

  “You’ll be hot and moist. Your folds engorged. The slaps will feel sexy. Push you higher.”

  “But I’m already hot and…wet.” She squirmed, her thighs tensing.

  “See? Just talking about it excites you.”

  She shook her head, but then said, “All right,” letting her reluctance bleed into her voice, a subtle resistance he would note. “We’ll do this. But, Boone…”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “If I don’t like it…?”

  “Don’t you mean if you get scared?”

  He moved off her to the side, and immediately, she missed his weight.

  His teeth nipped her ass. “You won’t. But you also won’t be able to tell me. I’ll be watching you for signs. If you’re too tense, I’ll know to stop. While I’m stroking you, sweetheart, be thinking of a safe word for those times you can speak. Something not in your usual vocabulary, so I’ll know you didn’t accidentally use it.”

  A safe word. Funny, she didn’t think she’d need one. She couldn’t imagine him ever doing something so extreme she’d need one. He might embarrass the hell out of her, but she did trust him to know how much she could take. For such a strong, dangerous man, he was gentle with her. Controlled. Questions answered to her satisfaction, she opened her mouth.

  Boone slid a hard knobby ball inside, pushing it against her tongue. A strap was fastened around the back of her head.

  For a moment, she panicked, unable to breathe.

  “Through your nostrils. Take a deep breath.”

  Quivering, she did as he instructed and instantly calmed.

  “Good girl. Another.” And then he left the bed.

  A few moments later, something soft glided along her back and her buttocks, strands of something. The flogger. He was introducing the implement to her. Letting her know he was about to begin, giving her a feel for the material so she’d know that what he’d promised, that this would be another gentle introduction, was true. The strands were soft and pliable, although not as velvety as the last, sliding over her, a caress that made her skin retract in goose bumps. The moment the strands lifted, she held her breath.

  The first stroke felt like the brush of a palm frond. But she didn’t have time to consider how disappointingly soft it really was, because another stroke landed, coming from the opposite direction. He laid the flanges on her skin, swiping side to side, entering a rhythm that drew not a single moment of anxiety, because the strokes, while warming her skin, also soothed.

  Light swats. Targeted swats, she realized when each lash landed in a different place. High on the left buttock, high on the right. Lower, and then lower still, until she wriggled because now, she hoped a flange might touch her sex.

  But he passed her sex, stroking the creases between buttocks and thighs, the backs of her thighs, the tender interiors…

  Tilly floated, her body warm and open. Her mind releasing all her worries, all her fears. For long moments, she forgot the man behind her, concentrating solely on the friction warming her bottom.

  And then the strokes grew harder, a little sharper. She could hear the change in the sounds—no longer a soft whoosh, but a more insistent thwack. The first jarred. The second nearly stung. She held her breath, wondering if she could take this for long. Then the repetition of the motions lulled her again.

  Only this time, surprisingly, the soft bites pulled at her core. Liquid filtered down her channel, leaking down one thigh. Her pussy pulsed, just loud enough she heard the juicy sound.

  Her own sounds aroused her. With her mouth stuffed, hard plastic muffling her voice, every murmur sounded like a guttural whimper. Slightly animalistic.

  Whimpers that came more quickly the hotter her bottom grew.

  A soft knock sounded at the door. She heard it but couldn’t muster any concern.

  That is, not until the slapping leather halted.

  Rousing, she lifted her head and heard Boone pad to the door. When the door lock snicked, she jerked. No, he had not!

  “I brought what you texted, Boone.”

  The voice was Serge’s, and he was stepping inside the room.

  Tilly made a squeal behind her gag, but the guys didn’t seem to notice.

  “Heard from Alejandro,” Serge murmured as he drew closer. “The trade’s going down in two days.”

  Boone said something, but she couldn’t hear what over the pounding in her ears.

  A hand patted her rump.

  Was it Boone’s? Why wasn’t she more shocked at the possibility it wasn’t?

  Every sense alert, she startled when the mattress dipped.

  “Boone asked me here, Tilly,” Serge said from right next to her. A hand smoothed over her back, down to the small dip and over her rump. “He thinks it’s better to acclimate you with his best friends now than to just thrust you into the life at a more public outing. He thinks you’re ready.” He tucked her hair behind her ear
and tugged her lobe. “Remember the welcome dinner? Remember how you spread your legs and let us all watch you come apart? That didn’t feel dirty, did it? And we haven’t embarrassed you with reminders since. This is for you. Not Boone. Whatever he said. When one of us is here, we’ll watch out for your well-being and satisfaction. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t, not really, but she nodded anyway. Questions screamed in her mind. Her throat tightened. Was Boone going to let Serge do something intimate? Would he let him fuck her? For just a moment, she worried she was just a toy to be passed among his men, and the thought made her tense.

  “Relax, sweetheart. We won’t fuck, Tilly,” he whispered near her ear. “You’re Boone’s. That’s something special between you and him. I won’t even stay that long. But I have a gift for you. A set of anal plugs in graduated sizes. Something that helps prepare your pretty ass for use. I’ll start with the smallest. We’ll work our way up. Start slow. Keep one in for an hour a couple of times a day. And there’s a cleanser under the sink for washing them when they’re removed. Understand?”

  Understand? Sweet fuck. Tilly’s mind filled with images.

  Although she’d felt the scratch of his shirt when he’d leaned near, she imagined him nude, from his burly, muscular chest to his toes. Of Boone hovering nearby, his gaze raking her body, spread for his enjoyment, her bottom red, her sex engorged. Why didn’t that picture send her into paroxysms of humiliation?

  The answer was simple. Boone wanted this. He believed she’d derive pleasure from it. If only she’d allow herself to. However foreign this was from anything she’d ever dreamed might happen to her, she had to trust he knew her better than she did herself. He’d been right about so much already.

  Serge moved, and the bed rose. Then his hands, a little cooler than Boone’s, smoothed over her bottom. He parted her cheeks. A finger glided through her crease, rubbing even cooler gel into her asshole. A moment later, something pressed against her puckered hole.