Bound to Submit

by Laura Kaye

  He chuckled, the sound almost smug, and he pulled back so they were eye to eye. “No.”

  Damn him. She huffed.

  He arched a brow again. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, Sir,” she said. But there was. Because she wasn’t the same Kenna anymore. After everything that’d happened, she had a bit of an anger problem she couldn’t always rein in, and she no longer had the confidence she’d once had. Just then, the feeling that he was having fun at her expense was poking at that temper. Even as it made her hot for him.

  While he held her gaze, he slowly released the three closed buttons of his shirt and then he tugged the cotton off his broad, muscled shoulders. He tossed it to the coffee table and turned to her again.

  “Why me, Kenna? Why now, after all this time? After you left?” he asked, his arms crossed. The position emphasized the bulk of his biceps and the hard pads of his pectorals. He was cut without being overbuilt. He was freaking gorgeous.

  But the question poked at her anger again.

  “Why do you say that like I left you?” she managed. How could he possibly think that?

  There was that eyebrow again. “You didn’t?”

  Her jaw dropped. “No, I didn’t leave you. You made it clear you didn’t want a committed relationship, and I had to do what was best for me in light of that. Period.”

  He sighed, the sound like he was reining himself in. “Okay, so then I have to ask again. Why me? Why now?”

  She just managed to keep the tremble out of her voice. “Because you can give me what I need. And I’ve just realized that I need it again. Okay? But if you don’t want to scene with me, just say.” It took everything she had to remain there in front of him, especially with adrenaline like a wild animal charging through her.

  He shook his head. “I’m just asking questions, Kenna. Which is what a good Dom does to determine what his submissive needs.” She ducked her head, but his fingers caught her chin and forced her to look at him again. “Tell me what it is you need, specifically.”

  Kenna took a deep breath and licked her lips. “I...I need to be tied up. I need you to take my control away. I need you to get me out of my head the way...the way you used to. I need to feel good ag—” She swallowed the word again. It revealed too much.

  But of course he caught it, and he frowned. “Finish that thought.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, Sir. That’s it.”

  For a moment he just looked at her. “Besides the bondage, what are you open to doing?”

  Kenna was surprised and relieved that he let it go. “Anything. Everything. Like before,” she managed.

  “Cuff,” he said, holding out his palm.

  She gave him her left hand, where a white cuff with colored ribbons circled her wrist. The movement made butterflies whip through her belly—because any second now she was going to have to show him her right hand, too.

  His grip cradled her flesh, and his fingers ran over the ribbons that outlined the things she would and wouldn’t do. “I see here what you want, of course, but I want to hear it. Oral?”

  “Yes,” she said, the question and the images it evoked making her heart beat faster. Because all of Master Griffin was gorgeous and impressive. And delicious.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she rushed out.

  He nodded. “Vaginal intercourse?” he asked, his thumb swiping across the thin black PVC covering her forearm. The light touch made her crave more.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Anal?” he asked, his fingertips tickling her palm.

  She shivered. “Y-yes, Sir.” Her body was so restless and needy that he could’ve told her to strip right there and she would’ve done it.

  “What did you cut yourself off from saying before?”

  Her breath caught, and she withdrew her hand. But he caught her wrist and held her firm.

  Damn him. She should’ve known he wouldn’t let it go. “Please—”

  “Kenna, if you can’t tell me this, then I can’t—”

  “Again. Okay? I was going to say ‘again’.” The words spilled out of her, a response to the certainty she suddenly felt that he was about to close the door on the possibility of this. And she couldn’t have that. She needed to try this—with him—at least once.

  Just once. Please.

  He frowned. “You need to feel good again? That’s what you were going to say?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  The sternness drained from his expression, replaced with that incredible, soft compassion of which he was so devastatingly capable. It was one of the things that had first made her fall for him. “Does that mean you don’t feel good now, little one?”

  Oh, that nickname. Maybe it was ridiculous how cherished and protected it made her feel, but it always had. And it still did.

  She released a shaky breath, completely incapable of answering, and instead gave a small, uncertain shrug. “I...I...”

  He gently grasped her shoulders, his dark eyes concerned and kind. “Kenna, talk to me. What’s going on?”

  This was it. She had to tell him. Only, she couldn’t find the words and she couldn’t make herself move. She needed him to command her. She needed him to make her.

  “Tell me...tell me to give you...both of my hands,” she said, her voice a raw scrape.

  He looked down at her left hand, still between them. “What?”

  “Please. Griffin. Tell me.” God, she needed the order like she needed her next breath.

  He released her shoulders and held out both of his hands, palms up. “Give me your hands, Kenna.”

  She nodded. Then nodded again. And placed both of her hands in his.

  ***

  For the span of a breath, Griffin couldn’t figure out what was going on.

  And then her hands hit his. Except...

  He looked down. For a second, he couldn’t process what he was seeing.

  One hand of flesh, the other...a prosthetic? God, yes, that’s what it was, a prosthetic made of some kind of hard but lightweight black material.

  “Kenna?” he asked, his heart suddenly a bass drum in his chest. Somehow, she’d lost her hand. And the idea that she’d been through something so traumatic and he hadn’t been there for her hit him like a baseball bat to the gut.

  I should’ve fucking been there. I would’ve, if I—

  She tried to pull away.

  “Stop.” He barked out the command, because no way was he letting her hide herself. Not when he wanted to fight for the right to once again know—and maybe even possess—every part.

  She froze and obeyed, but he could feel the tension rolling off of her.

  And that was the first thing he needed to address. Gently grasping the hand she hadn’t wanted to show him, he guided her to the couch. “Sit with me.”

  Truth be told, with the way his own head was reeling from the revelation, he needed to sit, too. He settled in the middle and pulled her down close, so that their thighs touched and he could hold her arm in his lap. Their movements made it clear that the artificial limb extended to her elbow, worsening that feeling in his gut.

  What the hell had happened? And would it have happened if I’d claimed her like I should’ve?

  He shoved the questions away, not because he didn’t care what’d happened to Kenna. He did. With everything inside him. But because his feelings about it weren’t what was important. Not in this moment.

  When they were seated, he offered her a confession that he hoped evened the playing field of their vulnerability, at least a little. “Do you know how many nights I looked out into that audience and hoped I’d find you there as I did tonight?” Looking down, he traced his fingers over the black material of her hand. Carbon fiber, maybe?

  “No, Sir,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

  He nailed her with a stare. “All of them.”

  She frowned as if confused. “But—”

  He leaned closer. “All. Of. Them.”

  Her
gaze dropped to where he was still touching her limb. “I should’ve told you right away,” she blurted.

  He heard what she wasn’t saying, and he wasn’t having it. “Are you under the impression that your amputation in any way detracts from my attraction to you?” Her eyes flashed to his again. “Because if you are, I’m telling you right fucking now that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known in my whole goddamned life and nothing—nothing—could ever change that.”

  Her jaw dropped open, but for the first time since she’d begged him to command her to reveal herself, fear became less prominent in her expression. Now, what he saw was surprise, doubt, and maybe even a little confusion. All of which his own behavior five years ago had no doubt put there. Damage he’d have to undo, piece by piece, if she’d let him.

  “Um, okay,” she said.

  “Tell me you hear me.” He arched a brow. All things considered, maybe he shouldn’t push, but he needed her to know this much. It took guts to come to a place like this and bare your body and your soul and your darkest, basest needs to others, let alone to do it when you feared you’d be rejected for any part of that. But she’d never have to fear that from him. Not again.

  “I hear you, Master Griffin.”

  “Now, tell me you believe me.”

  “I...I...” She shook her head. “Permission to speak freely? Please.”

  “Speak.” He needed to hear what she had to say. Needed her.

  “I know you wouldn’t lie, but my head still makes me doubt. For lots of reasons.”

  He could guess at some of them, and it made him want to smash his own head into a wall because they were his damn fault.

  “Straddle me,” he said, needing to touch her, to reassure her, to make her believe.

  Those haunting gray eyes cut to his. “What?”

  He gave her an expectant look. “Now.”

  Kenna did as he ordered, straddling her long, bare legs over his thighs.

  He held up both of his hands, fingers spread in silent invitation. She readily laced her left hand with his right.

  “Both of them,” he said, needing her to know that he accepted all of her, desired all of her, and nothing would change that. She laced the black fingers of the prosthesis through the fingers of his left hand, the movements making a tiny whirring noise that revealed some sort of internal motor in the device. “Good.”

  Looking into her eyes, he pulled her left hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles one by one. He felt her muscles tense as he reached the last finger, but that didn’t stop him from pulling her right hand to his mouth next. He repeated the kisses one knuckle at a time, the composite material of the fingers cool against his lips.

  “Open your hands and hold them up.” When she did, he gently grasped her left hand and treated the pads of her fingertips, the crest of her palm, and the center of her palm to a series of soft kisses. Knowing what was coming, this time she didn’t tense up as much as he next kissed the fingertips and palm of her prosthetic, too. “It’s all you to me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, shifting on his lap and reawakening his erection.

  He grasped her flesh hand and pressed it against his hard cock. “Do you understand?”

  She released a shaky breath and licked her lips, the little action making him want to taste her. “Yes, Master Griffin.”

  “Good,” he said, holding her hand there. His gaze dragged down the deep cleavage of her neckline to where her nipples were prominent within the tight fit of the slick-looking suit. His cock hardened further under her touch.

  “Do you feel what you do to me, Kenna?”

  She nodded, even though a wariness remained in her eyes. Piece by piece. He would fix what he’d done if it was the last thing he ever did.

  “Do I still do it to you, too?” he asked.

  Her hand gave an unconscious squeeze that nearly made him groan. “Yes,” she whispered, as if it was an admission she didn’t want to make. “I mean, yes, Sir.”

  For a long moment, he drank her in and made sure his head was screwed on right for whatever was about to happen between them. Because he couldn’t screw this up with her. Not again. He would never forgive himself, not that he ever had for letting her go the first time.

  Griffin wanted to know what had happened to her—God, needing to know was literally eating at him. But it was clear that revealing her arm to him had already caused her a lot of stress. So he put what he wanted and needed aside and let her decide. “Whatever happened to you, I am very sorry, Kenna. Sorry for the pain you endured. And sorry that I wasn’t a part of helping you heal. As you might imagine, I have a lot of questions, but I’m going to leave it to you. Would you like to talk more right now?”

  “Not even a little,” she blurted, and then her cheeks went pink. “Sorry, Sir, it’s just—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself. This time.” He arched a brow, but that little show of sass was more like the old Kenna than almost anything else she’d done so far. “But we will talk more later.”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sir. I know.”

  He examined her closely. Her erect nipples. The goosebumps that kept erupting on her arms. The restless shifting of her hips on his lap. For as stressed as she’d been, she’d told him the truth—she was definitely aroused. But he was going to have to better understand the condition of her arm before he’d be comfortable strenuously binding or suspending her with rope as he’d done in the past.

  “Are you interested in playing with me, little one?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, her tone strong and certain.

  A fact that made his cock turn to steel.

  “Do you remember your safewords?” he asked.

  “Red for stop everything, yellow for slow down but continue, and green for everything is fine,” she rushed out.

  Deep satisfaction flowed through him, and he nodded. “I’m adding another one, because until I understand what your new needs and limits might be, I’m going to need to know how your arm is feeling.”

  She nodded. “That makes sense, Sir.”

  “Good. When I ask if how I’m handling or binding your arm is okay, use red if you want to stop and green if you’re good just as you otherwise would. But if your arm is hurting, or you need me to slow down, back off, adjust something with it, or you’re nearing the edge of your limits in any way specific to your arm, I want you to say black. Got it?”

  She gave a small smile, and he realized it was the first he’d seen from her all night. “Yes, Sir. I’ll remember.”

  “I can’t tell you how much it pleases me to see you smile,” he said. When his words made her smile grow, he needed to taste that happiness straight from her lips. He leaned in, thinking he’d claimed a quick, deep kiss, but her eyes flared, and he slowed. And suddenly the moment felt weighted, significant. “Use your safewords if you need them, Kenna.”

  But, God, he didn’t want her to need them. Not for this. When she still didn’t speak, Griffin hesitated only one more second.

  And then he was on her. His mouth on hers. His tongue sinking deep. His hands in her soft blond waves. The moan she unleashed shot straight to his cock and made him want to wring every moan he’d missed these five long years out of her beautiful, curvy body.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he said. When she did, he cupped her ass in his hands and pushed off the couch. “Hang on, little one.”

  He made for the adjacent door to the playroom, but, good as it was, that one kiss hadn’t been nearly enough. Not when he was fucking starving.

  Pinning her to the wall, he dove back in again. Kissing, claiming, devouring. He ground himself against her pussy, the strangled cry she released around his tongue making his balls heavy and full. “I’m not sure you realize what you’re getting into with me, Kenna. Because I’ve missed the hell out of making you come.”

  “Oh, God,” she rasped.

  “God can’t save you. Not from me. Not tonight.”

  He swu
ng open the door, the motion-activated lights coming on as they moved into the playroom. Others occasionally used this space, but he used it most. He’d designed and installed the furniture, suspension hooks and shackles, and pulley systems in the room for all different kinds of bondage play, and he’d outfitted the storage cabinets with every possible implement he’d need, too.

  And he had just the thing in mind, for tonight.

  “Feet down,” he said.

  The way she slid down him nearly drove him insane, and then he stepped back and considered her suit. It was so fucking sexy that he hated to ruin it, but PVC was a bitch to get on and off.

  “I fucking love and hate that body suit right now, little one,” he said, planting a stern expression on his face.

  Amusement flashed across her eyes. “Sorry, Sir,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.

  A thought came to mind and he retrieved a roll of red Kinesio tape from a cabinet. Tearing a length off he said, “I’m going to allow you the suit. This time. But I need you to tell me where the prosthesis ends and your arm begins. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes,” she said, lifting her arm as he moved in. “The, um, stump extends about two inches below my elbow.”

  “Here?” He held the tape over the black of her suit, hating the way she’d hesitated to describe her limb. When she nodded, he gently applied the red marking around her forearm. He grasped her chin and made sure she was looking at him. “Thank you. Once we start, you have carte blanche—for tonight—to speak. I want you vocal. I want you telling me how I’m making you feel.” He nailed her with a stare. “Don’t let me hurt you. Don’t even let me get close.”

  “I won’t, Master Griffin. I can handle this.”

  “I doubt don’t it, Kenna, but I will cut the scene if I have even an inkling that I’m causing unintentional pain that you’re not owning up to.” He arched a brow. “Are we clear?” She gave a fast nod. “Good. Then spread your feet and put your hands at your side. Now.”

  Her ready compliance fucking slayed him. After all this time, it really did.

  “Mmm. Very good. Don’t move a muscle unless I tell you to. Because the scene begins right now.”