She met his gaze with seductive defiance. The lip biting gave away her excitement.
Parker shook his hand, so the chain swayed and tinkled. Her eyes quickly searched for the sound. He got lots of satisfaction out of her gasp.
No explanation was necessary. He chuckled and plucked at one of her hard nipples. She moaned and flinched when he applied the clamp and tightened its squeeze on her tender nip. When he knew it was tight enough, he licked the poor nipple and laughed when the tiny bell hanging from the clamp tinkled. He then repeated the process on the other breast. She was panting and squirming when he finished.
“This time,” he told her with a husky growl, “the chain is decoration.”
She looked down. He fingered the pretty chain connecting the two clamps and gave it a tug. Her legs wobbled when the purpose of the chain was made clear. “If you misbehave,” he told her, “you will hold the chain between your teeth.” To make his point he gave a forceful tug of the chain toward her mouth and laughed when she whimpered.
His beautiful bride was trembling and panting when he walked to the bag again. Withdrawing the fantastic bullwhip he’d commissioned just for this occasion, Parker smiled and walked to the side of the path. A single flick of his wrist made the whip sing. When the loud crack filled the natural silence, she cried out in shock.
“Twenty lashes, princess. On my ship, that’s what you’d receive.”
He stepped close and ran his finger down her back. “But I think this tender skin can only take ten.”
“Captain,” she muttered. “Please.”
Dropping the whip to the ground, he gathered her damp hair and quickly braided the messy length before putting it over her shoulder out of his way. When her full back was exquisitely exposed, he bent and bit her on the side just above her waist.
Moving swiftly and with purpose, he took up position, flung out a few test strokes that made her quiver, and then he took a deep breath.
“Count, princess. In French,” he added with a rough chuckle.
As he’d practiced, Parker carefully swung the whip, sending it in a perfect arc, so it wrapped around her torso like a snake. Tight but not too tight. Just enough to show her who had the power.
Her gasp went from fear to a sexy purr awfully fast. She counted; although with every stroke, she went limper and had to be reminded. The next to last stroke was a display of his restraint. When she counted, her voice was shaky but held the hint of triumph.
Foolish girl.
He moved in for the finish, bit her shoulder, tugged on the silver clamps until the bells tinkled, and covered her bare mound with his big hand. He didn’t need to probe to see if she was wet. She was drenched with desire.
“Ah, so the princess likes the lash, hmm? Let me leave you with a reminder of who’s in control.”
He stepped back and let loose with a lash that swept her ass with such a stinging bite that it left a welt. Nothing that’d come close to being sadistic or tearing her skin—just enough to remind her that he could hurt her if he chose to.
She struggled against the restraints and cried out. Before her cry vanished in the air, he stepped around the front and tugged off one clamp. She jerked and screamed. He held her breast in his hand and sucked the abused nipple into his mouth. Hard. She quivered and moaned. When he moved to the other side, she howled with agony until he replaced the sensation with mind-numbing pleasure.
“Are you going to walk away and act like a bitch again, princess?”
His crying captive shook her head and sniffed.
“Use your words, princess. Say, ‘No, Captain. I won’t be a bitch.’”
She wouldn’t say it. He applauded her guts.
“I see that you need a further demonstration of your position. So be it, princess.”
He untied her but didn’t remove the cuffs and demanded she walk to the house. She staggered awkwardly, but he stayed behind to gather the equipment. The silver nipple clamp accessory was as elegant as it was severe. It pleased him that she responded so well to the stimulation and the pain.
Looking like someone who regretted her decision to be difficult, she was standing in the middle of the living room when he found her.
He didn’t give her time to think.
“Get on your knees, princess. Face on the carpet and get that virgin ass up nice and high.”
She shook her head, refusing his command, so he manhandled her and put his sweet wanton on her knees with her ass in perfect position for taking. When he pushed her head to the floor and growled at her to get ready, she whimpered with a combination of apprehension and lust.
Parker enjoyed the luscious view for a long minute. Her pussy was swollen with desire and visibly wet. He studied the pretty rosette of her ass and smiled to himself. Soon, he thought. Real soon.
He put a hand on the small of her back and pressed. “More arch, princess. My cock is big, and I have no interest in being gentle.”
His first stroke went deep. He grunted and arched into her glorious wet heat. She cried out at his initial invasion. It wasn’t gentle.
With a savagery that came out of nowhere, he fucked her with wild abandon. Each stroke was a home run. Every powerful thrust made her grunt.
His hands gripped her ass as he pounded without mercy. She flooded with arousal.
Then he started to laugh.
He smacked her ass. “You don’t have to be a bitch to be fucked like one. Next time, just ask.”
The hot, wet friction on his cock made Parker fuck harder. He knew when she started to unravel. Her pussy tightened; she was moaning and grunting as liquid heat dripped onto his balls.
He stroked deep and held her hips. By shifting just a little, her knees left the floor, and she was suspended on his dick. Impaled by cock and humping like crazy, she screamed when her orgasm hit. The strength of her muscles as she spasmed around his cock made Parker lose it.
His cock swelled. A fireball built in the soles of his feet gathered strength and then shot into his spine. His neck arched, and a deep, guttural groan came out of his mouth. The sensation of his cock jerking inside her turned Parker into an animal. Fucking with abandon, he came inside her and willed his seed to plant.
The pleasure of keeping his softening cock inside her as the storm passed filled him with tenderness. This extraordinary woman took whatever he dished out, and even without saying a word, she begged for more.
When he eventually pulled out, she quivered. Right then, he loved her so fiercely that it took his breath away.
He bent and kissed her lovely ass. “Is m’lady satisfied?” he gently asked after laying her on the carpet and removing the cuffs.
Playtime was over.
“Oh, Parker,” his wife murmured.
He lay down next to her and stroked her face with his fingers.
“Are you okay?” It was a real question that an orgasm didn’t answer. He needed to hear her say it.
She snuggled into him for a long few minutes and then kissed him passionately. When she drew back, tears glistened in her eyes.
“Baby,” he groaned. “What’s the matter?”
She grabbed his face and looked him in the eye. Her expression was fierce, but her voice suggested she was anything but.
“Please tell me you’ve never done that with anyone else.”
His eyes went wide. How could he explain he’d never wanted to do it before? Not even the many times a whipping scenario had been offered.
Their complicated and sometimes messy past had shown him that complete honesty was the only way to go.
“Never,” he told her earnestly. “I’ve seen it before, many times. And I learned how to handle a whip as a kid, so I knew what I was doing. Did I practice before the wedding? Yes. Did I hope you’d rise to the challenge? Yes.”
Her eyes dipped, and she studied his throat. Sometimes his wife’s passions came as a surprise—to her.
“Um, you’re very good at it. The whip, I mean. I …” She hesitated and squirmed.
“You, what?” he asked softly. “Did you like it, Angel?”
She nodded but didn’t raise her eyes.
He rubbed her cheek. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Her hemming and hawing told him she wanted to say something, but either couldn’t or didn’t know how.
“Parker,” she said in a small voice. “Is it weird? The restraints. Is it weird that I, that it—”
“Oh, Angel. Baby. It’s not weird at all. No more so than how I feel doing the restraining. Don’t forget that part, sweetheart.”
Her gaze shifted to his. She hadn’t thought of it that way, and he could see the realization dawning in her eyes. “Oh.”
She fidgeted for a minute and quipped, “You put your spin on my nonsense. Bitchy captive and a roguish pirate?” Her head shook, and he saw a slight blush.
He chuckled. “Oh, so I’m roguish? Cool.”
The mild teasing instantly put her at ease. She playfully smacked his chest and giggled. “What made you, um, add the personal stuff? By the way, new name for you, my captain.”
Her captain. Yeah, he liked that.
“It was in your journal.”
Her brows bumped together in confusion.
“Not all at once but in bits and pieces. I embellished a bit, but it was all there. You have a thing for pirates, being captive, and sexually dominated. You were born with a smartass attitude. The restraints are hardly a surprise. I seem to recall a college girl begging me to tie her to my bed and do unspeakable things.”
She blushed and made a face. “Shit. I’ll never live that down.”
He had a good chuckle at her embarrassment.
“Stuff happens by degrees. A scarf around your wrists when you were twenty led to naked and trussed up outdoors a decade later.”
“Wait, what? I don’t think I understand. Do you like these things? Are you just doing it for me? I don’t think I like that.”
His wife was a unique combination of total wanton and old-school submissive housewife. She didn’t have any problem getting her freak on, but only if it excited or pleased him. He had to be careful with her because of this. The potential for bad decisions was real. Communication was so important for this reason.
“We share our pleasures, kitten. That’s why you mustn’t be embarrassed. You’re concerned that being bound and restrained is somehow fucked up. I’m the one doing the tying. Is it fucked up that it turns me on? You tell me.”
“I love you so much.” That was her answer to everything, and he was totally fine with it.
“If you’re ever not sure, you must tell me. Remember? I can’t be a proper Dom—the one you need—if you submit when you have a problem. Of any kind. We talked about this.”
“I liked it,” she assured him. “The whip. You surprised me. I started to, um, go away.”
He nodded and smiled. “You began to fly, suspended on the edge of pleasure and pain. Ecstasy does that sometimes. I was proud of you.”
Her smile was radiant. “I don’t want you to think I’m a baby.”
“Why the hell would I think that?”
“Are you serious?” She groaned. “I’m either getting ready to cry, crying, or getting over crying. I’m overwhelmed.”
“In a good way, I hope.”
“Oh, my god, yes,” she was quick to add. “I have to keep pinching myself. Parker, the wedding was perfect. You and my song in the church. I just love you so much. And now this.” She swept her hand to indicate their surroundings. “This place is so romantic and fun.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased, Angel.” He took her hand and raised it to his mouth. “And about the tears. Look, if I’m honest, I have to admit that your tears do one of two things. Either melt my heart or turn me on. So cry all you want … it’s a winning proposition for me. But know this. I intend to spend the rest of my life searching for ways to melt your heart and turn you on.”
A switch was flipped somewhere in the universe, and the shy, uncertain female lying next to him transformed into a bossy wench.
“Well, I’m glad we got that settled. Now help me up so I can pull it together. Breakfast is still waiting, and I want to do that face mask thing.”
“You’re joking, right?” he asked as he rose and pulled her to her feet.
“About which part? The breakfast or the mask?”
He bumped his brows together and pondered her response. Then he chuckled.
Taking her hand, he fed it through the crook of his arm, and gallantly strolled with her to the kitchen despite the fact they were buck naked.
“If you tell anyone you played beauty parlor on me, it won’t end well for your bottom. I’m assuming you know that.”
She hugged his arm and giggled.
“As to the breakfast business and you leaving my bed in the morning, can you at least explain what this is all about? I told you that I don’t expect a cook or a maid. You’re my wife. We’re at a five-star honeymoon palace on a tropical island. You weren’t supposed to lift a finger.”
“No, no,” she softly cried in alarm. “Parker, please. I need to take care of you. Don’t you understand? I’ve waited forever to be your wife. I need this. It’s important to me.”
“That’s a start, but could you add some detail? Explain in a way I can understand?”
ANGIE LOOKED AROUND at the luxurious house. It was as if he saw into her mind and took notes. This place was a honeymoon fantasy in every way. They had a custom bed and a decadent bathroom with a ginormous two-person soaking tub and digital shower. All the living spaces were beautiful, everything was open and airy and the view was stupendous. She couldn’t ask for anything else.
It was everything her young girl’s romantic heart dreamed when she fantasized about marrying Parker Sullivan. And now that it was a reality, she longed to do things for him. Fawn, if you will. Pamper and indulge. She’d waited a long time to take on this role. The one where his comfort and happiness were at the epicenter of her being. He wanted to know what made her happy? Making him happy was the simple, unvarnished answer. And it was the god’s honest truth.
She had him sit on a stool at the island and stepped in close so she could touch him while she spoke. He leaned one arm on the counter and rubbed his other hand up and down her arm.
“You spoil me, Counselor, and you always have. Ever since I was a little girl. It’s kind of funny in a way because all I ever wanted was you. This,” she told him with a nod at their incredible surroundings, “is my chance to have you all to myself. No family to show up unannounced. No late-night work calls.”
He gave her a lecherous smirk. “At least we’re on the same page.”
She rolled her eyes but continued making her point. “The way you approached taking on the responsibilities of a Dom? Not all that different from taking on the role of wife. The husband thing didn’t cause you half the concern, but I’m the opposite. It was not being your submissive that made me stop and think. It’s being your wife. Mrs. Parker Sullivan can’t be some kid playing house. We’re the same but different. You see?”
She had no idea if she was making any sense, but she hoped the point she was trying to make came across halfway coherent.
“Everything will be different at home, and I know that. But this is our honeymoon. As your wife, I need to take care of my husband. Not wants to, Parker. Needs to.”
“And getting out of our bed in the morning to make breakfast is part of this?”
“Yes. It’s important to me.”
He smiled. “And what if I want to bring my wife breakfast in bed?”
“We’ll arm wrestle for who goes first, okay?”
Her husband threw his head back and laughed.
“All right, wench, I hear you loud and clear. So make me breakfast, dammit. I demand you feed the beast, woman. And then we can hang out in the bathroom, and you can shave my nuts or wax my chest. Whatever. Sound good?”
“I prefer your balls and chest the way they are. And the mask is
so this handsome face stays that way. We’ll be having a serious discussion at some point about sunscreen.”
She grabbed his chin and kissed him hard on the lips.
“I’ve prepared some Gilligan’s Island coffee for you,” she told him with a thumb jerked at the coffeemaker. “Bringing some flair to your wicked island fantasy.”
Parker had a catalog of smirks and leers at his disposal with many to choose from. Some were silly, and others melted her panties. And a few, like the one he wore now, was one part Three Stooges and two parts oversexed lawyer.
“Damn. You figured it out, huh?” He huffed and puffed comically. “I’ve been planning this since the Baywatch bathing suit debacle. Castaways. Just us. Alone in paradise.”
She poured him a cup of coffee, placed it in front of him, and moved the sugar bowl within reach. A new fantasy for her journal took center stage in her thoughts. She’d be a waitress in an old diner along the interstate—in the middle of nowhere. He’d be a stranger passing through. Maybe a trucker or someone on a road trip.
“And don’t forget Mary Ann. Those teeny tiny shorts and the red checked shirt tied under her boobs? Now we’re talking.”
Angie shook her head to banish the fantasy scene firing up in her brain. It didn’t take much these days for her to get lost. What was he babbling on about?
“We might be alone, but that doesn’t mean the professor didn’t send along some inventions to keep things spicy.”
The professor? Shit. Maybe she’d better pay attention. His stupid grin told her she’d missed something important. Oh well, she thought with an inner shrug. Plenty of alone time to catch up later. Right now, she had to affect some sort of makeover. Her hair was still damp and matted into the sloppy braid he fashioned and then there was the matter of the nine-one-one going on between her thighs. Having full blown monkey sex several times a day required a bit of tidying up.
“Suck on some caffeine while I, um, refresh.”
His husky chuckle at her obvious predicament made her giggle-snort most unattractively, so she flipped him off and ran screaming toward the bathroom when he stood and tried to grab her.
Honeymoon Angel: A Family Justice Novella Page 3
