Bound to be Dirty

by Savanna Fox

  If there was any hope for the two of them, she had to be honest. “The past year or two, I climax but it feels like”—she bit her lip—“we’re going through the motions.”

  “The passion is gone.” He stated it as a fact, with no inflection.

  Tears threatened to surface, but she forced them back. “The passion, the trust. We’ve lost so much. The love . . .” She had to swallow before she could go on. “We had it all, Dax. I loved how we were together.”

  “Me too. If we could get that back . . .”

  Yes, if they could get that back, then surely they’d find a route forward, one that included children. “Things need to change, but I’m not sure how we do that.”

  Dax refilled their wineglasses. “Last night was a change.”

  Her sex throbbed at the memory. “That’s for sure.”

  “Neither of us was going through the motions.”

  A laugh spluttered out. “No. It was . . . new, almost like that first summer.”

  “There was passion, Lily.”

  “Yes. Somehow, last night, you made me stop thinking, stop worrying, and just . . . experience. Though I’m embarrassed about being turned on by some of the things you did.”

  “We’ve always been pretty, uh, conservative in bed. I thought, well . . .”

  “What?”

  “That you wouldn’t be into kinky stuff.”

  “Dax, I’m really not a prissy princess.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean, uh . . .”

  “Did you want to try other things? Were you bored with our sex life?” Why hadn’t it occurred to her that a guy like Dax wouldn’t be satisfied with a conventional sex life?

  “I thought our sex life was great, until we lost the passion.” He picked up his wineglass, took a sip, and then said, with a wicked grin, “As for kinky stuff, hell, I’m a guy. Sure, I think about that stuff.”

  “What kind of things appeal to you?” she asked, curious but almost afraid what he might say.

  “I dunno.”

  “Of course you do.” She narrowed her eyes. “May I remind you, I’m a doctor and I volunteer in the Downtown Eastside? I doubt you’ll come up with anything I’ve never heard of.”

  “Aw hell, I’m gonna disappoint you, my ideas are so tame.” Another sexy grin.

  “Try me.”

  “Okay, tying you up and seeing you spread out like that, just for me, was pretty cool. A blindfold might be fun. Games, role play. Going out with you to some nice restaurant, you wearing a dress and no panties, and me playing with you under the tablecloth and making you come.”

  Imagining that scenario, her eyes widened and the heat of arousal thrummed in her blood and pulsed between her legs. She took a hurried gulp of wine.

  “Some toys,” he went on. “Not the heavy BDSM stuff like spreader bars and ball gags and butt plugs, but—”

  “You know about those things?” she broke in. She was only aware of them because of her job. To think that her husband spent time thinking about ball gags and butt plugs . . . That definitely did not turn her on.

  “I’m a guy,” he said again. “Plus, that book of yours is enlightening.”

  “You’re not making me want to read it. But I need to get through the first part before tomorrow’s book club.” Everyone had to read a third of the book, no more than that, before each Monday meeting, so they could have a meaningful discussion.

  “Those things don’t turn you on?”

  She shook her head vigorously.

  “Any of the other stuff I mentioned?”

  Knowing her cheeks were pink, she said, “Maybe.”

  “Cool.”

  The very male comment made her chuckle. “You’re saying I shouldn’t be embarrassed, I should embrace my, uh . . .”

  “Down-and-dirty side?” he filled in. “Wouldn’t hear me object. Hell, Lily, there shouldn’t be anything wrong or embarrassing in sex if it’s what both partners want.”

  “And consent to, with full information and from equal positions of power.”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  She knew he meant it. Dax didn’t have a sexist bone in his body. She’d been pleasantly surprised, that first summer, when she discovered that fact about her bad-boy lover. “We learned a lot about each other at Camp Skookumchuck.”

  “Camp’s for learning and exploring,” he joked. Then he said reflectively, “Hmm. That summer was about exploring, discovery, passion. Right?”

  “And falling in love.”

  He nodded. “Last night, we explored different things and that rekindled our passion.”

  “True.”

  “So maybe we could do more of it. See where it takes us.”

  Lily liked having a clear, logical course of action. But there was no formula for finding out if two people wanted to save their marriage. Counseling worked for some couples, but she was a private person, and she couldn’t imagine tough-guy Dax spilling intimate secrets to a stranger.

  She stared across the table at her husband. Did she still love him? Sometimes she thought yes, but then wondered if it was just history, habit, maybe insecurity. Other times she thought no, and then questioned whether she was only erecting defenses to guard against a broken heart.

  If they did love each other, could they change their marriage into one that they were both happy to recommit to? Was the mountain in front of them climbable, or impassable? To find out, they had to pick a path to start down. He’d just proposed one.

  Their jobs and lifestyles were a huge issue, but she couldn’t see an easy solution. Fifteen years ago, passion had developed into a deep emotional connection, a commitment to share their lives. Perhaps there was a strange logic, now, to choosing their sex life as the path to follow in rebuilding their love. If that worked, surely they’d have the motivation to figure out the rest of their lives.

  “All right,” she said slowly. “Let’s explore. Where do we start?” The question made her nervous, so she rose abruptly. “Let’s deal with the leftovers and the dishes and then . . .” And then, what?

  Dax cocked an eyebrow. After a long moment, he said, “Get one of the scarves I tied you up with and wait for me in the living room.” His voice had the same commanding tone as last night.

  Would he tie her up again? But with only a single scarf? Excitement pulsed through her, along with nerves. “What are you going to do?”

  He stood and came around the table. His big, strong fingers stroked short hair away from one cheek, traced the rim of her ear, gently tugged on her earring. Then he gripped her chin firmly. “That’s for me to know. The moment you want me to stop, you know the word to say.”

  It was too soon. They should discuss what games they were both okay with. He shouldn’t just take charge this way.

  Except, wasn’t that what had excited her last night? Trusting Dax to control what they did, to control her pleasure? Giving up the need to always think, plan, be responsible for every damn thing?

  “Do you accept my rules?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, master.”

  Seriously? And yet, she supposed this was what she’d opted in to. “Yes, master.”

  “Very good. Now get that scarf and bring it to the living room.”

  Ten

  Dax used the ice dispenser on the fridge and put a bowl of cubes in the freezer, then tidied up the dinner leftovers and put the dishes in the dishwasher.

  Maybe there was hope for him and Lily. If that hope began with sex games, he had a fantasy or ten he’d be happy to play out with her. Maybe she’d confess to some fantasies of her own that he could indulge. He wasn’t fool enough to think the only problem with their marriage was sex, but it might be the easiest to fix. If they could bring the spark back to their love life, maybe the rest would follow.

  “Dax?” she called from the living room. And then, “I mean, master?”

  Master. No, it didn’t sound right. It reminded him of Neville. He strode to the other room to join her. She had her b
ack to him and was reaching out to pull the blinds.

  “Don’t.”

  “I was just—”

  “Don’t.” He moved the leather recliner back from the window, facing it. “Sit here.”

  She obeyed, and he took the scarf. “Don’t call me master, call me Falcon.” It was a nickname he’d become known by among his colleagues.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Yes, Falcon. If I may say, the name suits you.” She put her hands on the arms of the chair, likely waiting for him to bind one of them.

  “I’m going to blindfold you.”

  Her eyes flared with surprise, then a touch of panic. “You could just pull the blinds and turn out the light.”

  “I want the light on. I’ll be able to see and you won’t.”

  “But the window. If you don’t pull the blinds, then—”

  “We face the ocean. It’s not likely anyone can see in.” They’d have to be on the other side of False Creek with a powerful telescope. The possibility of a distant voyeur added an edge that heated his blood.

  He ran the scarf through his hands, from one end to the other. “You don’t question me. I’m in charge. You obey without question. You don’t speak unless I ask you a question or give you permission. Or unless you want to say your safe word and stop me.”

  Slowly, she dipped her head in a nod. Then her gaze met his. Her light blue irises often looked cool, but now they glittered with curiosity and excitement.

  He folded the long scarf in half lengthwise and looped it around her head, three turns, secure but not bindingly tight. He tied a knot. “How do you feel?”

  “Strange, Falcon. Off balance, even though I’m sitting still.”

  “Off balance is good. It means you’ll pay attention to—” He brushed her forehead with three fingers, just one darting touch.

  She started and twisted her head, obviously trying to anticipate his next touch.

  He ran his fingers down her nose, traced the upper bow of her mouth. Pale pink lips. She rarely wore lipstick, only a neutral lip gloss. “Take off your shirt and bra, then put your hands on the arms of the chair and don’t move them. Rather than tie you up, I’m going to trust you.”

  He walked away, moving more heavily than usual so she’d hear his retreating footsteps. In the kitchen, he got the bowl of ice cubes. When he returned, he walked silently.

  Lily had stripped to the waist, leaving her jewelry on. She sat neatly, her feet on the floor and her forearms on the arms of the chair. Her skin looked pale and delicate against the brown leather. The gold chain and dangling hummingbird drew attention to her naked breasts. With the gas fireplace lit, the room wasn’t cold, but her nipples, the same soft pink as her lips, had budded.

  Dax was aroused too: at the sight of her; at the idea of playing this game with her; at the possibility that someone watched through a telescope. He’d have stripped off his clothes and freed his erection, but she’d have heard him doing it and he wanted to take her by surprise. Quietly, he kneeled in front of her chair, took a cube from the bowl, and ran it around one of her areolas.

  She gasped and involuntarily pulled back, settling deeper into the chair. “What is— I’m sorry, Falcon, I shouldn’t have spoken.”

  “Do it again and you’ll be punished.”

  The cube melted as he swirled it over her flesh, water dripping a trail down her breast and onto the top of her rib cage. He applied his tongue to the bottom of the trail, swiping up the cool drips, brushing her warm skin with his chilled tongue. Purposefully, he licked his way up until his tongue circled her areola, then flicked up and around her nipple like he was swirling his tongue around the top of an ice-cream cone, gathering it to a point.

  She shivered, but the flush on her chest said it was from arousal, not cold. The same arousal that tightened his groin and thickened his cock.

  He swirled a cube around her other areola, but this time didn’t lick up the drips. “Open your mouth.”

  She obeyed, likely having figured out he was using ice cubes and expecting one. Instead, he slipped two cold fingers between her lips, darting them in and out to mimic sex. She began to close her lips, to capture his fingers, and he drew them quickly away.

  He bent to lick the drips of water from her ribs and breast. “Open your mouth.” This time, when she opened, it was his cold tongue he dipped inside. Hers met it and they kissed hungrily, but before the kiss could get too intense he pulled away.

  Now he did unzip his jeans, knowing she’d hear the rasp of metal. He shucked off all his clothing, breathing a sigh of relief as his hard-on escaped confinement. Then he tugged her stretchy black pants over her hips. She lifted her lower body, allowing him to pull them off.

  Her panties were simple beige ones a few shades darker than her skin. Her mound and pubic hair pressed against the thin fabric. At her crotch, the fabric was dark with moisture.

  His cock pulsed at the sight of her wearing only arousal-dampened panties and the jewelry he’d given her. He wrapped a hand around his shaft, which jerked with need. He could pump himself to climax, and if he kept quiet, she’d never know. But he didn’t want his orgasm to come from his own hands, so he released his grip.

  Kneeling in front of her, he reclined the chair, tilting her backward. He hooked his hands into the top band of her panties and in one quick move ripped them off and down her legs.

  “Oh!” she gasped.

  He spread her thighs and admired her swollen pink pussy, glistening with dampness. Her flesh would be hot, almost burning. He gathered two ice cubes and pressed them against her, making her jerk, then moan.

  Dax wanted to moan too as he bent between her spread legs and inhaled her distinctive scent. Alternating strokes, he swiped the melting ice then his firm tongue against her labia. He took a fresh cube and pressed it inside her, then licked up the drops that trickled from her.

  She writhed against his face, panting with need.

  Damn, but he wanted to plunge his aching hard-on deep inside her. “Don’t come. Not until I tell you to.”

  Her body froze, like she was holding her breath.

  With forceful swipes, he licked her labia, up and down, faster and faster. Now, rather than wriggle against him, she tried to evade his touch, hands clamping down tightly on the arms of the chair as she pulled away. He gripped her hips and held her steady as he continued to lick relentlessly. This was torture for him too, fueling a painful ache in his balls.

  When she groaned, he eased off, dropped light kisses on her inner thigh, let both of them cool down. Then he returned, to tease her budded clit.

  She panted, whimpered, tensed so her body was taut with self-control.

  His was too. If he touched his hand to his cock, it’d take all of two strokes to make him shoot.

  When he sensed Lily was at the point where heightened pleasure would tip into pain, he said, “Come now,” and stroked his tongue firmly along her labia then her clit.

  She broke, crying, “Oh God, Dax.” Violating the rule of silence, and the other rule about calling him Falcon. He guessed she wasn’t aware of it. It felt good to hear his name on her lips when she came.

  Before she’d finished spasming, he applied the last melting ice cube to her heated crotch. She gasped in shock, then he licked her, eating her as she pressed against his face, came apart again, and kept climaxing under his demanding tongue.

  When she tried to pull away, to resist his touch, he knew she’d had all she could take. He let go of her hips and sat back on his heels. His cock leaked pre-come and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not just blindly fuck her, or fuck his own hand.

  He knew what he wanted: the feel of her lips on his aching flesh. But right now, even the slightest touch would make him blow. He had to cool off, but how could he— Wait a minute.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered, then went to the kitchen.

  Activity helped ease the pressure in his body; so did opening the fridge door and letting the cool air wash over him. He deliberated b
etween mince pie and bolo rei. The traditional Portuguese sweetbread studded with fruit and nuts would make a great breakfast, so he instead chose pie. He put a slice on a plate, couldn’t resist taking a couple of bites, then returned silently to Lily.

  She slumped in the recliner, boneless as a sleeping cat in the warm light from the lamp and the gas fire. The window was a black square of night studded with distant lights from other apartment windows.

  Dax said, “I’m going to put the chair up.”

  She jerked to alertness as he activated the recliner switch until she was sitting upright again.

  “Open your mouth,” he ordered. “Open wide, Lily.”

  Slowly, she opened her mouth.

  He slid a forkful of pie inside.

  She slipped it off the fork and ate it with an expression of pleasure.

  Dax put the plate aside and placed his feet on either side of hers, not touching them. He leaned forward to rest one hand on the sturdy back of the chair, and with the other hand grasped his erection. “Open wide again.”

  When she did, he guided his cock to her lips and between them, stretching them wider.

  She gave a startled, smothered, “Mmph” sound, and then her tongue stroked his shaft. Her lips sucked against his burning flesh and he knew he wasn’t going to last.

  He put his other hand on the back of the chair, bracing himself.

  Lily reached her hand toward his cock.

  “No. Stop. I didn’t tell you to move your hands.” Though he loved feeling her fingers circle his shaft and caress his balls, right now that wasn’t what he wanted. There was something unbearably erotic about the sight of Lily, her naked body flushed from climax, sitting prim and proper in the brown leather chair, blindfolded, as he leaned over her. Their bodies didn’t touch except in one place, where his cock thrust into her mouth.

  The heat of her mouth, the heat of his organ . . . he felt like he’d burst into flames if not for the dampness she spread across him with her tongue. She laved his shaft, tightened her lips around the sensitive base of his crown, slid up and down, sucked him in.