Bind Me Close: 3 (Knights in Black Leather)

by Cerise DeLand

  A man’s lips caressed her pussy from the rear.

  She bucked but a man who stood in front of her held her shoulders, pinning her in place.

  The man behind her ate her. Oh, good god, he ate her as if she were the finest delicacy he’d ever tasted. She tried to image what he must look like, the position of him on his elbows and knees, his tongue invading her swollen folds from behind, the sound of his service to her a sensuous flow of juicy little kisses and licks and laves.

  She hung her head, lifting her ass so he had better access to her pussy. He growled, sank his tongue up into her juicy channel and titillated her with such unerring skill. Who was that? Giles? Wade? Both men had eaten her tender tissues, making her flood with creamy excitement. The man who used his tongue and teeth to adore her could be either. She moaned, wiggling her ass at him, whoever he was, and widened her knees to give him broader access. She could live like this, love like this forever.

  He obliged her, invaded her, filled her to his hilt. One hand to her nape, he pummeled her with his rhythm and his cock. He rocked her in new tempos, slow and easy, hard and quick, a ram, a slow claiming and then he withdrew. She felt the lack of his body heat and at once she knew he’d left her. Left her.

  She shook her head and wanted to yell no as her tender lover pulled away, only to jerk at a sharp slap to her ass.

  Her flesh smarted from the blow. But she couldn’t care. She needed that man behind her to give her his rod again. He had primed her, pumped her and left her frantic. She pushed back in invitation.

  But she got another whack on her ass cheek. Then on the other.

  She whimpered and went still.

  The man behind her grabbed her hair and pulled her up, arching her backward. Caught in an awkward position, she relied on one man to support her back, to help her keep the arch. And then, in the next second, she shivered as a drop of hot, vicious liquid spread on her skin between her breasts. Wax. Thick, sweet-smelling wax soothed her. The whip was gone. One man stroked the undersides of her breasts and droplets of hot wax hit her upturned nipples, making her mewl and whine and wiggle. Her areolas, so full and achingly needy, were drenched in the drops of wax. No sooner did she wish for more down her cleavage than her desire became reality. A hot, endless trail of cooling wax wended its way along her torso toward her navel and her mound…and her wet slit.

  If she could have screamed in delight, god knew, she would have. She’d never had anything so delicious on her body. Never reacted to hot and cold so dramatically. Never needed a lover’s body inside her own to ease the ache as she did now.

  The wax coated her. Became her second skin. Her other self. Hot. Smooth. Cooling. Imprisoning her flesh. Forming a new Willow. A woman on fire to have a lover.

  Pulled to her feet, she swayed with the power of her arousal, the wash of relief that she had avoided the knife and the whip. Behind her, a man cut her bonds, massaged her wrists and set her hands to her waist.

  In front of her, a man caught her in his arms. This man she knew by the commanding touch of him. She knew him by the wiry brush of his chest hair against her arm. She recognized him by the way he breathed so fiercely through his nostrils, by his suppressed groans when her nipple touched his forearm and by the heavenly, musky smell of him. This man, the one who took her up in his arms and laid her on a warm, blanketed table, was Wade. He was too quick, too strong, too determined to be milder, gentler Giles.

  He clamped her in stirrups, her weeping wet pussy on view for the world to see, then clamped each hand in a velvet cord at her side. Her body aching for Wade’s touch, she arched and at her appeal Giles bent over her and licked one nipple.

  Had Wade abandoned her to Giles? Where had he gone?

  As Giles caught her other breast in his hand to tweak the nipple, he laved her areola. She wiggled, empty, wanton, wild to be filled.

  Where was Wade?

  Ah. His cock probed her channel. She lifted her hips in invitation and he complied by filling her. Even with her gag firmly in place she growled in delicious abandon. But he withdrew and she keened like an animal deprived of sun, food, water, life. Come back.

  Even Giles’ lips sucking on her nipples couldn’t compare to the glory of being fucked by Wade. She cried her objection, tossing her head and eager to be gone from here, done with Giles, open only to Wade. Wade who had disappeared. Had he?

  She whimpered.

  Just as she feared he had left her to find her orgasm by Giles’ ministrations alone, Wade ran a hand along the trail of wax from her cleavage to her belly to her quivering pelvic bone to her mound. There, sweet man, he cupped her, parted her and ate her as only he could do, as only he knew how to satisfy her.

  She sighed, she rejoiced, she creamed and let him have all of her. Her legs wide, her pussy open to the cool night air and the hot eyes of all in the club on her swollen flesh, she went with Wade on tides of fulfillment. He brought her to climax once with his lips. Again with his fingers on her clit. And finally, oh dear god, with his magnificent cock filling her, ramming her, claiming her as his own.

  She came so often stars danced in her eyes. Her body limp, her knees splaying open for all to see the traces of her arousal by the delectable talents of the one man for her, she let him pet her and by his touch, allowed him to praise her.

  Quivering, a mindless, boneless mass, she lay on the table, for how long she could not say. He stood beside her, the scent of his body comforting her, his hands slowly kneading her limbs, her toes and fingers. The silken, warm blanket felt like a sweet cocoon and she recovered her strength by simply lying there in utter peace beside him.

  A few spectators came up to caress her arm or a leg and she took their tokens of aftercare with small sighs. She had seen this behavior last night when she’d visited and understood this was a common show of affection for those who had shared themselves in public. But she needed more and from Wade. Only Wade.

  She welcomed their gratitude.

  She gathered her own to give to the man who had been responsible for giving her her greatest fantasy. With strong hands to her shoulders Wade circled around her and helped her to sit. He took away her gag and ball. To reward her for her compliance he caressed her jaw and cheeks to stimulate her and bring her muscles to normal feeling. Then he removed her blindfold, driving his hands through her long, loose hair and massaging her head to help her recover. Her eyes never left him. His devotion. His care. Her man. Her lover. She saw him now in his fullness, all that he meant to her. And she trembled with the power of her realization.

  Overcome and woozy she reeled and readily let him lift her and walk off with her back to a dressing room. There, in privacy, he kept her in his arms as he ran his hands over every inch of her, petting and stroking, kissing and nipping her. His actions seemed like offerings of thanks for her performance.

  But it hadn’t really been one. Through languid eyes she watched him in his careful ministrations. As he had done with her after every sexually intimate encounter they’d shared, he silently, carefully touched her and kissed her. Her collarbone, her cleavage, the crease of her elbow, beneath her ear, no part of her was left untended. No part unadored. And that precisely was what his actions felt like. Adorations. She writhed, loving each new sensation, almost embarrassed by the delicacy with which he savored her. Never had she enjoyed a man more. Never would she enjoy any other man so well.

  She understood that now all too well.

  So when he set her in the chair and strode out of the room she was glad he’d gone. She needed time to accept her new reality. She belonged to him.

  Even if she didn’t want to.

  * * * * *

  She must have dozed, because when Wade opened the door he had changed clothes. Showered too. His hair was damp, as if he’d finger-combed it in his haste to get back to her. She smiled, sated, happy but leery of what decisions she would have to make about her future. Could she leave here wanting him as she did? Could she stay and not have him all to herself?

&nb
sp; Wade didn’t talk but paced back and forth. Dressed in jeans a white shirt and boots he appeared to be the sheriff, the ordinary-looking rancher she had known. His gaze dropped over her. Taking his time about assessing her, he made mesmerizing love to her with his dark-green eyes. Beneath her blanket her naked nipples hardened as he concentrated on them. Her pussy, sore and swollen and utterly exhausted, pulsed so hard she gasped and clutched her stomach. Her blanket fell and she was naked, needing him. Oh god, again, she wanted this man inside her, around her, taking her to heights she’d never known existed except with him. On a shudder she closed her eyes.

  He caught her against him, his lips in her hair, his arms like bands of steel around her yielding body.

  She gently pushed away, closed the door behind her and stood against the wall. “I can’t be in your arms, Wade.”

  Shock widened his features. “You can’t tell me you hated that out there.”

  She reached out to tame a lock of his hair over his brow. “Never. But if you lay a finger on me I’ll have another orgasm and another.”

  He seemed lost. Bewildered. “That bad or that good?”

  “Good, Wade. So damn good I can’t seem to calm down.”

  “Let me help.” He hauled her close.

  She let out a laugh. “If you think you’ll make me come again and I’ll survive it—”

  “I want to take you home with me.”

  “I’d like that.” She sighed as he wrapped her tenderly in his arms again and she leaned into him. “I’m too tired to argue and I need you, Wade.”

  “You need to sleep, baby.”

  “I do.” She surrendered to him as he cupped her breast, kissed the hollows of her throat and wended his way to her nipple to lick and suck and nip. She gripped his hair, defenseless, absorbed by him. Her pussy pounded, empty, willing and oh so eager to have him fill her up. “God, Wade, you’re going to kill me, honey.”

  “I want this with you every night, every day.” He laved her other breast while one hand found her slit. He inserted one finger to score her clit with his nail. “You are so ready for me again. I have to have you. No other man. No other man. You hear me? All mine. All the time. Say you’ll do that. Say tonight proves that.”

  “You want me with you exclusively?”

  “Live with me.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock and delight. Her blood flamed with hope she could have him for her own. But how foolish was that? She had a job to consider and her sister. Could she chuck everything she was to stay here and live with a man she barely knew?

  “I need to work.”

  “No, you don’t. In fact I wish you wouldn’t.”

  She stared at him, not comprehending that he or any modern man would want a woman who didn’t have her own professional life. Unless being Wade Saxon’s woman was so unique that dependence was a key ingredient.

  He brushed his lips on hers. “Willow, I need you.”

  “And I would be your sub—”

  “I’d train you. You’d get better and better. We’d be a damn fine team.”

  “At bondage? At exhibitions like that one?” She motioned to the club’s main halls.

  His nostrils flared. He glanced up and away at the ceiling. “You loved it that much?”

  “Yeah. I did. You made it so good for me I think I’m on the sauce now.” She hated to hold his feet to the fire on this but she was trying to keep a portion of herself intact. If she agreed to be his would she always be staking out her own territory? Would she always be warding him off? She’d never let one man rule her. Not in the past. Why do it now?

  She knew why. She loved him. His generosity. His charm. His devotion to his children. His care of her. She hadn’t known any other man to display so many facets. All of which she admired. Wanted in a man of her own.

  But he was a Dom. No man had ever controlled her. She was too big, too bold for any man to even consider that. But this one could rule her. Heart and soul.

  If she let him. And she had to test him to see if he would let her have some tiny say in her own life. Otherwise…

  “What do you think, Willow?” His hands caressed as surely as his words seduced.

  She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “What if I tell you that I loved what we did tonight?”

  “Damn straight. I saw it written in every move of your very healthy body.” He stepped back, his arms crossed, his verdant gaze promising wild, sweet fucking. “What do you really want to ask?”

  She grabbed her courage and took a leap of faith. “What if I want to repeat what we did tonight?”

  “The exhibitionism?”

  She nodded, hating that she was too enthralled with him and his offer to speak.

  “That’s no problem. I’ll like making new music with you.” He winked.

  She rocked back on her heels. “You would do that?”

  “Believe it. On two conditions.”

  “What?” she asked, skeptical she could agree to his terms.

  “You wear a collar. Mine.”

  If she agreed to this she might disappear inside him. That was how deeply she cared for him. And it shocked her to her core. Shaking, she had to find some way to maintain even an iota of power in their relationship. “What about the…display. With Giles?”

  Wade’s face crumpled in frustration…and was that fear? “I can’t do that.”

  She caught her breath. Oh, god. He was going to leave her to be alone in the world again. Without a lover, a man to cherish. Just after she’d found him too. Christ, life was a bitch. If you love me, what prevents you from giving me what I need? “Why not?”

  He bit off a curse. “I don’t share my women.”

  A memory niggled at the back of her brain. His wife had left him. Liking the Bravado way of ménage, wanting more men in her bed than Wade could tolerate. “Not ever?”

  “Not my subs.”

  “I see.” Every cell in her body rebelled from what she knew she must do. “Well that’s that, then.” On quaking legs she walked around him to the door. She yanked it open. Why was she always ushering him away from her? Tears obscured her vision as she faced him. Her throat clogged with a sob and for the life of her she couldn’t form the word goodbye.

  He gaped at her. “You’re asking me to leave?”

  “Yes. Telling you to go.”

  “Willow.” Her name was a plea on his lips. “Don’t do this.”

  She glanced away, her eyes toward the dark expanse of her future without him.

  He stood frozen for a long minute. “If you change your mind you know where to find me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  How many kinds of fool could he be? A horse’s ass. A cretin. A clown to sit there nursing his broken heart with too many beers and too little common sense.

  He glanced around his kitchen. He’d lived here alone without a good woman so long it was a wonder he still knew how to talk to one, let alone romance one. He had nobody to talk to at night when he came home. No one to laugh with. No one to debate with. No one to take into his bed and treasure. No Willow.

  He struggled up from his chair and did a drunken man’s glide out to the deck. The air was moist, the breeze out of the western desert thick with the August heat. The black sky held a thousand tiny pinpoints in the velvet night. The moon was shrouded, obscured by a veil of a few clouds.

  “Like my life.” Why did some men find a woman and keep her? Like Case Turner who had refused to share Samantha—and won her heart.

  Why can’t I be more like the MacRae brothers who managed to share one woman among the three of them and suffer no problems of ownership or envy? What am I missing that I can’t bring myself to do the same?

  “And why didn’t Willow want to belong to me alone?” She’d loved what had happened there on that stage.

  He raked his hair with both hands. She was a traditional woman in so many ways. Did he not know how to appeal to her heart? Or did he only appeal to the needs of her body?

  And ho
w the hell was he going to get her back?

  Inside, the phone rang and he turned on his heel to answer.

  “Hello? Yeah? Who?”

  The counselor for his kids babbled on about a doctor and a hospital while Wade’s blood pressure jumped the charts. “Stop. Repeat that, please. We have a terrible connection.”

  “Your daughter, Mr. Saxon, fell from a jump line. She broke her wrist, we got her to a doctor right away, x-rayed her and put her in a brace. Just to make sure she’s good, you know. She was in pain but she’s got medication and doing fine.”

  “Okay. I hear you. What meds does she have?”

  He told Wade the name of it and dosage.

  “Good. Sounds safe. Is she there? Let me talk to her.” Wade paced before the fireplace as the camp counselor told him to hold on while he walked with his phone in hand.

  “Hi, Daddy. Mr. Houghman said he told you what happened.”

  “You sound dopey. Talk to me. Are you okay? Really? Those foreign doctors and hospitals. God knows what they do. Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, resting, got a brace on my hand, that’s all. Honest.”

  “You need to come home.”

  “No, Dad. I’m good. Really. In fact now that we’re talking I want to tell you—”

  Her tone sounded ominous. “Come on home, Jenn Bear. You’re hurt and—”

  “Dad, I will not come home. I’m not finished here. I want to stay. Work.”

  “There’s only another week and then you—”

  “Now listen to me, Dad. I am not your Jenn Bear. I am not one of your lockups.”

  “Jenn Be—Jenn, stop this. You need to come home.”

  “Really, Dad. I have another week’s classes to teach for this session and then I want to stay and teach the next semester in the local school.”

  He had never heard her so adamant. “I’m sure they have others who can do that work. You need to finish your degree.”

  “I’ll do that when I come home in the spring.”

  “No, Jenn.”

  “Hold on. I am not one of your subs you can boss around.”