by L.H. Cosway
“Dominance and submission?” My voice cracked again, and I felt a little breathless, excited by the labels.
“Yes.” He inclined his head, studying me thoughtfully. I watched him with wide eyes as he nonchalantly plucked my scarf from the dresser and strolled back over to where I sat perched on the edge of the bed. He hovered above me for a long moment, his dark eyes hot as they unapologetically stared down the front of my shirt. My insides did a somersault and heated, rearranging themselves, burning beneath his suggestive stare.
Ronan took a deep breath then knelt, situating himself between my legs. His hands slipped under my skirt, inching upward and spreading my thighs, still holding the scrap of fabric. He tickled me with it. The silky softness sent a shock of goosebumps along my skin, spreading heat up my chest and neck and searing arousal between my legs.
“I like,” he whispered, his gaze holding mine. “I like deciding what happens and when. I like having control and being responsible for your loss of control. I like taking care of you, all of you. I like your trusting me, implicitly and explicitly.”
Ronan’s thumbs were rubbing light circles on the skin of my thighs just below my apex. Instinctively, I inched closer, my legs opening wider. I reached for his shoulders and tried to pull him toward me. I needed his touch a few inches higher, but he retreated. He withdrew his hands, his fingertips skimming my bare skin, sending a shiver to my center.
“Do you trust me, Annie?” He leaned back, his eyes still holding mine as he unbuttoned my shirt and meticulously pushed it down my shoulders, all the while holding my scarf.
“You know I do.”
“What if I tied you up?” Ronan discarded my shirt and then unclasped my bra. His question was soft, curious.
“You’ve done that.” I helped him by withdrawing my hands from the bra straps. “You know I-I like that.”
“But what if I tied your legs, too, spread them, and you were face down on the bed? What if I blindfolded you? What if I used toys?”
I blinked at that, instinctively covering my chest with my arms. “T-toys? What kind of toys?”
“Only toys that would make you feel good.” Ronan took one of my hands, then the other, from where I crossed them over my chest; he looped the now-twisted scarf around my wrists and tied a secure knot, his thumb and gaze lingering on the vulnerable skin.
“Would it hurt?” I managed to whisper.
His eyes darted back to mine, and he answered immediately, “No. Like I said, I crave submission, control. I’m not a sadist. I don’t like hurting people, and I would never want to hurt you. I want your surrender.”
I exhaled an unsteady breath as Ronan pulled off his tie, his fingers moving to the underside of my knee, the barest touch; but it initiated spikes of heady, aching longing between my thighs. He slid them down the back of my calf to my ankle and gently, reverently slid my foot out of my terrycloth slipper. I thought he was going to wrap the tie around my ankle, but instead he brought my foot to his mouth and ran his tongue along the base of my toes, making my leg jerk and spasm.
It was ticklish, but it was more than that. It was carnal. Sinful. Overwhelming. My sex pulsed, and my bound hands balled into fists.
I cried out, “Ah, Ronan!”
His grin was devilish, pleased, as he lowered my leg and knotted his fancy tie around my ankle.
“Will you submit to me, my darling? Hmm?”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
“You say yes and you say please and you beg me for more.”
I blushed a little as I pointed out, “I already do that.”
“So you do.” Ronan nodded, looking dangerously pleased, and added, “But if we’re going to really do this, if you’re really going to give up control, you’ll need a safe word.”
My mouth parted in alarm and surprise; I stared at him for a moment. “A safe word?”
“Yes. How about ‘peppermint’?”
“To make you stop? If I say ‘peppermint,’ then you’ll stop?”
“That’s right. I can’t take control you’re not willing to give.” Ronan unbuckled his belt, slid the leather strap from his waist.
“But….” I struggled to form a coherent thought now that I was faced with a belt. “What are you going to do with that?”
He took my hands and looped the belt through the knot made by the scarf. “Get on your stomach, face down on the bed, and lift your arms over your head. I’m going to secure the belt to the headboard so you can’t move.”
I licked my lips, thinking this over, then asked, “How are you going to restrain my other leg?”
His eyes moved between mine, and his mouth widened in a slow smile. “If you must know, I have another tie”—he nodded to the closet—“in there.”
“And you’re going to tie me to the end of the bed? So I can’t close my legs?”
“Yes. So you’re open to me. So I can touch you however I like, for as long as I like, wherever I like.”
I stared at him, my heart racing, but I knew I was going to do this. If I enjoyed it half as much as I loved the idea of it, then I was pretty sure Ronan Fitzpatrick was going to ruin me for all other men.
Ronan stood smoothly, his mouth twisted to the side in a faint smile, and offered me a hand. I placed both of mine in his, and he helped me stand. I hesitated for a fraction of a second and then turned and walked on my knees to the middle of the bed. I lay down and did as he instructed, my arms over my head, reaching for the headboard.
“Such a good darling,” he praised me. I felt the bed depress behind me and realized he was straddling me. He looped the belt into the headboard and tugged, making sure it was reasonably sturdy. Then I felt him move behind me and tie my ankle to the footboard.
He bent over me, his hot breath against my neck. “Don’t move.”
I nodded, blinking at the drapes and the comforter and wall filling my vision.
He left, but then I heard him return at once. I closed my eyes, and he secured my right ankle as he’d done my left. I felt my skirt hike up the back of my thighs as he opened my legs to tie me to the bed.
“Oh, wait, my skirt. Shouldn’t I—?”
“Shh….” He cut me off with a soft hush, the tip of a single finger sliding from my heel, along the back of my leg, to just under the hemline. “From this point forward, you are only allowed to say four things: ‘yes,’ ‘please,’ my name, and ‘peppermint’ unless I instruct you otherwise. Do you understand?”
I nodded and acquiesced quietly. “Yes…Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
He stilled, like I’d surprised him. But then I heard him chuckle, his finger drawing my skirt higher up my legs. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
He used just his mouth at first, biting me, tasting me, licking and devouring the bare skin of my neck, shoulders, back, and legs. It felt divine, and I was melted, became rubber. He was still fully dressed, yet somehow that made it even hotter.
Then I heard a buzzing sound, and I stiffened, my eyes opening wide with alarm. His hands moved beneath my skirt, lifted it slowly until my white lace panties and bottom were exposed. The buzzing became louder; and I tried to press my knees together, but I couldn’t because my ankles were tied. A spike of fear, but also anticipation, pulsed through me.
He bent over me, tongued my ear, and then whispered in a fall of hot breath, “This will be one of your favorite toys.”
The next thing I knew, he’d lifted my hips slightly from the bed so my bottom was in the air, and he pressed a vibrating something to my center. He moved it back and forth over the lace panties with aching slowness, from my clitoris to my opening, and I cursed the scrap of fabric separating my body from his mystery device.
“Oh….” I rocked my hips, arching my back, straining, loving the exquisite torture.
He moved the delicious vibration away. “Ah, now. Say ‘please.’”
“Please….”
“Say my name.”
“Please, Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
&nbs
p; I heard him give a short growl of appreciation, and then the toy was back. This time he moved my panties to one side and entered me with his fingers while he pressed the vibrator to my clit.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my hips bucking and pressing backward, needing him to be harder, needing the vibration higher. But he continued to tease me. He bit my bottom then licked the spot, tracing his tongue from my left butt cheek to my lower back.
“You’re so wet for me, Annie. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You want my big cock inside you. You want me to surround you and fill you up.” He removed his fingers and his toy, and I cried out, my sex clenching with no purchase.
“Yes, please, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” My breath hitched; my body was on fire and fighting the bonds. I needed him, his bare skin. I needed the contact and his silky heat. I was so empty.
“Then you’ll be mine. Say you’re mine, Annie.” I heard his zipper and then the soft sound of his pants falling to his knees. The bed depressed behind me, between my spread legs.
“I’m yours; please, I’m yours.”
I felt him grip the waistband of my panties just before I heard the distinct sound of his tearing them in two. I felt the head of his erection against my entrance, and I tried to push backward. He chuckled, though it sounded strained.
“Tell me I’m yours.”
“I—I’m yours.”
“No….” He moved himself so that his thick head drew a circle around my clit, spreading my arousal over both of us.
I groaned, arching my back until it was almost painful.
“No, say, Ronan, you are mine. Say it.”
“Ronan, you are mine; you are mine.” I swallowed the last word then bit my arm, needed to feel something. This limbo between sensual teasing and full-on fucking was making me crazy.
He pushed into me then, and I whimpered. He felt amazing, necessary. Ronan leaned forward, and I felt his chest—still clothed in his suit—against my back. For some reason, the fact that was I bare to him except for the skirt around my waist and he was still mostly dressed made me even hotter.
I could barely move except for tilting my hips back to meet his thrusts. He surrounded me, pinning me down, hovering over me, filling me. I didn’t last long, and I came with a strangled cry, saying his name, saying please and oh, God and yes.
“Perfect, my perfect girl. I love the way you come on my cock.”
I felt him lean away before I was quite finished, fitting one of his hands between my stomach and the mattress and lifting my hips. He fit the vibrator between my legs, dancing and tapping it against my clitoris, as he pumped in and out.
Then I came again, and it hurt so very, very good. It rocked me—it was an explosion of white heat and stars under my skin, streams of ecstasy and pleasure and pain rushing through my veins. It felt wild, blazing hot, and uncontrolled; and I had no choice but to abandon myself to it, my bound hands gripping fistfuls of the comforter, turning my face into the mattress to stifle my loud cries as tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.
I hadn’t recovered, tremors still wracking my body, as Ronan collapsed on top of me with a strangled groan of his own, my name on his lips.
Our heavy breathing mingled. I felt the thudding of his heart against my back. It matched mine.
I loved him.
I loved what we’d just done.
I wanted to do it every day. I wanted to wake up with him every day, see him, touch him, hear him laugh, listen to his stories, be shocked by his dirty mouth every single day.
He was worth losing my anonymity. I wanted to share everything with him.
I had to tell him the truth.
I was going to tell him the truth.
I just didn’t know how to tell him the truth because I didn’t want to lose him.
Chapter Twenty
@RonanFitz: My girlfriend is so pretty.
@Anniecat: @RonanFitz Hush now.
@RonanFitz: @Anniecat Come back to bed, love.
*Ronan*
All I wanted to do was lock myself away in the hotel suite with Annie. Unfortunately, the more people became aware that I was in the country, the more shit I got asked to do. Honestly, it was exhausting having to meet and greet and be sociable when all I wanted was to tie Annie to my bedpost and tease her body until she begged for release. But such was life. I wanted to get back on the team as soon as possible, and smiling for the cameras was the only way to speed the process along. When we went outside, we always had an audience of at least thirty photographers. It felt like living in a goldfish bowl.
We were on our way back from our final engagement, a charity dinner, and the organizers had hired a limo to take us to and from the hotel. It was only six thirty, but we’d shown our faces; and as eager as I was to be alone with Annie, I also wanted to sleep for at least ten hours. So, an early departure it was. She checked out the drinks cabinet and reclined back on the long seat, emitting a weary little sigh.
We stared at each other for a moment, smiling in contentment. I didn’t think I’d ever get over her smile. Her face. She was in my dreams and my thoughts. I was completely overrun by this woman, and there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and letting my eyes trail down her body. She looked just as exhausted as I was.
“What’s wrong, love? Is the day having trouble with what the night got up to?” I teased.
She let out the most adorable yawn I’d ever seen and pretended to scowl. “You’re a stupid sexy slave driver, Ronan Fitzpatrick. And my wrists hurt.”
I chuckled. “That’s Sir Ronan Fitzpatrick to you. Come here—I’ll give them a rub.”
She stuck her tongue out at me and grabbed a small bottle of liquor from the drinks cabinet to examine the label. I gave her a reprimanding look before she finally crawled across the seats and into my lap. I took a deep breath and wrapped my arms around her tight. There was a thoughtful expression on her face before she said quietly, “I like being here with you. You seem, I don’t know, more yourself in this country than you did back in the States.”
“It’s got nothing to do with geography, Annie. It’s just you. Being with you makes me calmer than I’ve ever felt. Being inside you feels like home,” I said, whispering the last part huskily.
I saw her shiver at my words before she brought her nose to mine and nuzzled. The affectionate gesture made my heart squeeze. God, how I loved her.
Taking both her wrists into my hands, I started to massage them, noticing that I had been a little bit rough with her last night. I’d have to learn more control. Normally, I was the definition of controlled in the bedroom, but with Annie I tended to lose it a little. It was like I’d been waiting my whole life for the ideal partner, and now that I’d found her, it was impossible to hold back.
By the time we arrived at the hotel, Annie was resting her head on my shoulder, her body limp and relaxed as I soothed her with my fingers. I’d be content to stay like that for hours, and I felt the urge to tell the driver to do another loop of the city; but we both needed sleep. And yeah, sleepy sex with Annie before we both finally drifted off also sounded appealing.
Thankfully, there were only a handful of photographers hanging about when we left the limo. I led her to the lift, and we stood facing each other as other people got on and off. I couldn’t stop smiling at her, telling her with my eyes all the things I planned to do with her when we got to our room. There was only one more floor until ours, and finally we were alone in the elevator. She gave me that look I love, the one where she glances up at me from beneath her lashes, and in the moment I felt too full of emotion. I was so in love with her I was drowning, and the overflow of water came out in my words. I barely even had to think about it. I just said it. I knew it was what I wanted. She was all that I wanted.
“Marry me.”
She stared at me, eyes growing larger by the second as my words hung in the air.
“What?” she whispered, and before I could hesitate, I slammed
my hand on the button to stop the lift and got down on one knee. Taking her hand in mine, I said it again, eyes blazing, heart hammering. “I love you, Annie, and I want you to marry me.”
“You’re…you’re…get up, Ronan.”
“Not until you answer me,” I said firmly, seeing a thousand “yeses” written all over her face, but not a single one of them left her lips.
Her entire body began to shake, and I stood, taking her face in my hands and kissing her cheeks, her nose, her chin, her eyelids, every part of her that I adored.
“I think I need to sit down,” she said just as the lift creaked into movement again. Someone had obviously overridden my command to stop it. I took her hand in mine and led her off, eyeing her the whole time and trying to read what she was thinking. I’d just put my entire self out there for her, and her hesitation was killing me with every second that passed.
When we got to the suite, everything looked normal at first. I opened the door with my keycard, and Annie stepped in, slipping off her shoes and coat. I noticed a couple of cushions had been strewn on the floor, and the drawer to one of the desks had been pulled wide open.
“Oh, shit!” I heard her shout as she entered the bedroom. I was heavy on her heels and found her standing with her hands to her mouth in panic. The place was trashed, our suitcases open and clothes tossed everywhere. Every single drawer and the closet were wide open, too, and it looked like someone had tried to break into the safe but had been unsuccessful. There was a massive dent in the metal, but it remained shut tight. That was a relief because that’s where I’d stored Brona’s sex pictures.
Once Annie had taken a moment to collect herself, she dove forward, frantically searching through her things and muttering panicked expletives to herself. I picked up the phone and immediately made a call down to reception to inform them of the break-in. O’Hare sounded absolutely appalled by the news, and I got the feeling this sort of thing didn’t happen here often. It was a five-star hotel, and I knew the security was top-notch.
