Cole, Kaliana - Hook, Line and Sinker [Liberty Springs, Wyoming 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Kaliana Cole

  The wriggle as she settled herself deeper in to the plush padding was only for his benefit. He was glad she couldn’t see his indulgent smile as he slowly undid the Velcro straps that would bind her to the table. The sound had the desired effect. He watched a shiver chase along her spine. “I’m going to strap you to the table now, Bailey. Unless you want to quit?”

  “Do it.”

  He saw her ass lift a tiny bit and knew she had left off the “sir” deliberately, trying to get another whack on her ass. He didn’t disappoint her, making sure he caught the sweet spot where her thigh flowed into that lovely rounded ass. He normally wouldn’t stand for such blatant manipulation. But this was Bailey, and she was always going to try to top from the bottom. And that didn’t upset him half as much as he thought it would. It was downright refreshing, actually.

  He heard her suck in a big breath before “sir” came out in a husky whisper that went straight to his cock.

  The Velcro restraints wrapped around her ankle and just below her knee. He made sure they were nice and snug so they wouldn’t cut in when she started to fight. He leaned over her, allowing her to feel the steely erection pressing out the front of his jeans. The rough moan it drew from her throat was suitably gratifying. One thing that wasn’t in doubt was her hunger for him. Her self-control was.

  He bent one of her extended arms and strapped it to the cross member that bisected the table. He saw her hand clench and then relax into the padding. “Go on, Bailey, You won’t give in until you fight it a bit.” She had a few good wrenches against the restraint and then groaned as she accepted the captivity. He rewarded her with a gentle caress as he slid his hand up her other arm to complete her binding.

  He stood and looked at her body stretched out for his pleasure, completely helpless, the subject of his will. Her ribs expanded with each fast and shallow breath, and her thighs were squeezed tight. “How are you feeling, baby? Scared or horny?”

  “Both. So much of both, sir.”

  The “sir” brought a smile to his lips. It hadn’t sounded forced this time. He turned the handle that separated her legs and watched as they slowly parted. The sheen on her inner thighs betrayed her. “I think you’re a lot more horny than scared.” He moved over to the cabinet against the wall and opened it wide, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist a peek. He hesitated over the whip section, letting her get a good look at what he had.

  The short leather flogger with the knots in the end was his choice, but he gave her time to fret before he picked it up. He also grabbed a small glass butt plug and a good-sized jelly vibrator. He put the vibrator on the bench right in front of her where she could see it with no hope of touching. A tease. “You only get that if you’re a really good girl, Bailey. And let’s face it—that ain’t likely, is it?” He trailed the flogger across her silken flank, watching her writhe.

  “I’ll be good, sir. I promise.”

  “Yeah, like I believe that, brat.”

  He brought the lashes down gently across her shoulders. Not a stinging lash, more of a heavy caress. Her soft moan encouraged him. “Do you like that, Bailey?”

  “God yes!”

  He laid a series of light taps right across her shoulders before moving lower. Not letting any two strokes land in the same spot, he gradually increased the weight behind each blow as she warmed up. By the time he reached her ass, she was arching into the blows, looking for more than he was giving. “Have you had this pussy slapped, Bailey?”

  He let her get away with shaking her head this time. Her moans indicated there wasn’t much in the way of coherent thought going on at the moment. “Well, I’m gonna, brat. Right after I slide this plug in your ass and watch you squirm.” He meant to shock her, to make her rise above the cloud of sensation she floated in, but she only moaned lower, out-and-out hungry sounding.

  The cream spilling from her pussy was thick and rich against her inner thighs. He picked up the glass plug and rolled it in the evidence of her arousal. He was ready for her to buck against the cold, but she didn’t even acknowledge it. He dropped the flogger and started using his hand, giving short, sharp slaps to the side of her buttocks and thighs while he lubed the plug with her own juices.

  When he lined the transparent plug up with her pucker, she didn’t flinch. He watched dumfounded as her body accepted the intrusion. Her moans attained a more desperate status, but that was all. It snugged into the crease of her ass as the internal muscles captured the tapered section. He flicked the base hard, sending a vibration through the glass. The groan that blistered the air sounded as if it had been wrenched from her soul. “Want more, Bailey? Want me to slap that clit? It’s gonna sting, baby.” Her only response was an effort to present more of her glistening folds to him. A tilting of her hips that could be nothing but a blatant invitation.

  The first one was light. He made sure his center two fingers caught the little bundle of nerves square on. “Again, again.” It was hardly even a whisper, but it reached Jory’s ears. He gave her three more in rapid succession and stopped. Her cries were damn near orgasmic. “Don’t stop, I was going to come.” The disappointment in her breathless words was plain to hear.

  “You don’t get one that easy. You don’t get one at all unless I say.” He slapped her folds sharply, a real stinger.

  She thrashed in the restraints as the sting reverberated around her oversensitive clit. “Oh, do something, Jory. It won’t stop. It won’t go away.” It would feel like an orgasm that just wouldn’t push from that wound-up tensioned pleasure into release. “Please.” The “please” struck a chord, but he didn’t want to push her over yet.

  He cupped her mound gently and held her until the storm settled a little. He could feel her fighting not to mash her clit against the purchase he gave her, panting in her efforts not to come. Bringing her back from the edge, he soothed her with his voice. Only when her breathing had deepened did he start once more. “I’m going to give you five, Bailey. If you take them, I’ll let you come. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jory smiled at her eager but breathy tone as he picked up the flogger. “They’re not going to be soft or easy, baby. You’re going to earn your orgasm today.”

  He stood beside her, his right hand holding the flogger along the line of her spine, teasing the skin of her lower back with the leather lashes. He brought it down so the stiff handle struck the base of the plug and the tassels wrapped beneath her to stripe her folds. The cry that sprang from her throat was neither scream nor moan, but a potent mixture of both.

  Before the echo of her cry died away, he gave her another, not stopping until all five promised lashes had been administered. Her inarticulate noises fed his cock and tugged at his heart. “Good girl, that was beautiful. Do you want me to make you come now?”

  “Please. Please.” The whispered plea had him reaching for the vibrator. He turned it on and ran it the length of her folds, from the curls at her mound to the glass plug that stretched her dark star.

  “Inside or outside, baby?”

  “Either. Both. I don’t care.” The desperate quality to her voice warmed his soul. She was primed and begging. He wanted nothing more than to thrust into her dripping-wet grip, but he held back. He had to assert his own control in order to manipulate her responses. She had to know his control was superior.

  Jory slipped the dildo into her sheath. The latex slid easily through her copious juices. Her cries lifted, becoming desperate. He rocked it deeper in and twisted so that the ridges would stimulate the plug buried in her ass. She rewarded him with a deep groan, and he watched her head drop to the bench, muscles going lax. “Do you like that, Bailey? Like when it pushes against the plug?”

  “Mmm.”

  He smiled at the deep purr and kept the pressure shifting against the hard object spreading her rear. She was falling into the pleasure, not entreating him to make her come but soaking up every nuance of his play. He carefully avoided her clit, making sure his fingers did not so much
as brush it.

  The sweat dampening her hair was also beading across her back. He, too, was feeling the heat as he held back the urge to plunder the willing sacrifice stretched out before him. She wasn’t racing headlong for orgasm like she always did, and he wanted to reward her. He splayed his hand wide on her back and began to push it up and down her back in a carnal rhythm, encouraging her to move with the gentle shifting thrusts he gave with the latex phallus.

  She moved into his rhythm easily, following his lead in a slow dance of pleasure. She looked so damn hot with the reddened blush riding her silken skin, writhing wantonly at his direction. Wet and ready and more submissive than he had imagined Bailey Verne could ever look. He laid one finger on the bud of her clit and she came. Shattered. Let her pleasure spill from her mouth in one animalistic wail.

  He watched her back arch and stiffen. Her sphincter spasm with the desperate clench of orgasm. Felt her juices spill over his hand and her flesh jerk and twitch. Smelled the distinctive aroma of satisfied woman and listened to her cry die into a long, low moan.

  Jory leaned over her and pressed his chest to her back, his lips to her shoulder, giving her the contact she thrived on. She was addicted to touch, and he gave her all he could as she came back down from the high of delayed orgasm.

  His fingers made short work of releasing her from the bindings. He slid the vibrator from her wet grip. The butt plug presented more of a challenge. Sexual release had tightened her even further, and her body held it in a viselike grip. “Relax for me, baby. Let me get it out.” He heard her suck in a breath, and then the glass came free with a gentle tug. He reached out and grabbed a wet wipe from the pack in the cupboard and wiped her tenderly. She shifted a little but didn’t demur.

  When he was sure she was going to be comfortable, he lifted her from the table and into his arms. He sunk into a big old armchair tucked into the corner and held her tight. He didn’t object when she tugged up his shirt, just stripped it off and dropped it to the floor. Her purr as she snugged up chest-to-chest warmed him more than the full, soft breasts pressing into him. She clung to him as the sweat on their bodies cooled. Her fingers wound into the hair licking along his nape. A comforting caress he was unaccustomed to.

  “I’ll never get used to that.” Her murmur was warm against his neck.

  “What’s that, baby?”

  “That you can give me unbelievable pleasure and not chase your own gratification.”

  “For me it’s more about the journey than the destination. I can come any old time I want. My right hand can do a quicker job than any woman I have ever come across. Unlike some, I don’t need to make a production out of masturbation.” Her suppressed chuckle tickled against his neck. “For me it’s about you. Getting you to give up control and surrender your pleasure to me. Seeing you rise to meet the flat of my hand or the lash of the flogger. Knowing that every second I delay your orgasm it’s going to be stronger, that you are letting me give you more pleasure than you could ever reach on your own.”

  “Was I good this time?” He could hear the lack of confidence. She wasn’t fishing for compliments.

  “You were very good, baby. Better than I thought you could be. Are you sore?”

  “Just a little.”

  “Where?”

  “Between my legs.”

  “Specifics, Bailey. The time for shyness has long gone. Your ass, your pussy, your clit? Where?”

  “Along my lips and clit.”

  “Good girl. That wasn’t that hard, was it?”

  “I guess not.”

  He swiveled in the seat and slid Bailey into it as he rose. He grabbed a tube of soothing cream from the cabinet and returned to where she was ensconced in the big chair. He flicked on a lamp to better see. “Give me a look, baby girl.” She let him take one leg and expose her to his view. He knew there wouldn’t be any broken skin or even bruising, he was too careful for that, but she was red and no doubt sore.

  He applied the salve carefully, doing his best to keep the touch soothing and not provocative, but Bailey’s body just didn’t know when to quit. Her breathing quickened and she grew damp at the first touch. He glanced up to see hooded eyes watching him, hungry ones.

  He sighed in resignation even as his cock surged with renewed interest. “You are going to be the death of me, baby. What do you want?”

  “I want you, Jory. I want you to make love to me, deep and slow.”

  He couldn’t deny her. He shucked his boots and jeans beneath her watchful gaze and nudged her aside and took his seat back. She didn’t need any encouragement to straddle his thighs and line up his curved flesh with her tender folds. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and sank down. The rhythm was all hers, just as slow and deep as she wanted it. His hands rubbed over her fevered skin, letting her have her way with him. Slouching down further gave her access to his lips, and she partook the moment he was in reach. Deep, soulful kisses, as slow and sweet as their joining. Jory captured the gentle gasp as she came and let his own release roll through him. She held his gaze as they both soared.

  Intimate and devastating.

  Chapter 6

  The man in the mirror shook his head. Jory couldn’t believe the brat had had the audacity to mark him. The hickey stood out like a flashing neon sign. No one was going to miss it. But he just couldn’t find it in him to be pissed. At least he was out in the park instead of on roster at the visitor center today. He’d get enough ribbing off the boys without being on general display. Bailey had looked too damn comfortable to wake this morning, all snuggled down in the nest she’d made of the blankets as soon as he had rose. She had smiled sleepily when he’d kissed her but only burrowed down further.

  He’d call her later and remind her about her doctor’s appointment and to call into Jodie’s spa and salon for a tidy up. He hadn’t had a chance to taste her yet, but he swore he wouldn’t let her rush him anymore. The thought of her plump, smooth folds without a speck of hair on them made his mouth water and his dick twitch. He shook his head to clear it and headed outside. The drive into the forestry headquarters was rife with wildlife. He needed his wits about him to avoid Bambi, and any thoughts of Bailey naked and spread under his tongue were not conducive to good driving.

  Department Head Scott had been the only one to comment on the neck embellishment, but the men in his own crew had been all smirks and grins. It was no small relief when someone called in a tree down across one of the trails. He went himself rather than sending out one of the maintenance guys.

  He was surprised when Andy found him just after lunch. He knew nothing was wrong with Bailey. The little hoyden had called to taunt him about her new look only a few minutes before.

  “Hey, Andy.” He greeted Liberty’s deputy as he stepped out of the four-by-four.

  “Jory.”

  The grave expression on his scarred face tightened Jory’s gut. “What is it?”

  “It’s your dad. He came off second best in a tussle with a tree. I’m really sorry, Jory, he didn’t make it.”

  Jory shut his eyes briefly. The old man should have retired years ago. He had never understood why he pushed himself so hard. A man his age had no business felling logs on the slopes of the Bighorns. Just one more thing they had never seen eye to eye about.

  “Bound to happen. I’m just surprised it took this long.” Jory knew he sounded callous, but he had been waiting for news like this since Grant had refused to retire. “What have I got to do?”

  “There is no need for an autopsy or investigation. The logging company will cough up the usual compo payout, so it is just the funeral to arrange. If I can help with anything, just let me know, Jory.”

  “Can you let Pete know? He and the old man were pretty close. I’d like him to find out before the rumors start doing the rounds.”

  “I’ll do that. What are you going to do?”

  “Head home and call the funeral directors and then lay my head in a soft place for a while.”

  Andy�
��s smile was touched with wistfulness. “That’s as good a plan as any, better than a bottle of whiskey. Call me if you need anything.”

  Jory watched him turn on the narrow service trail and drive away. He sat on the tailgate of the forestry truck and gathered himself. He wasn’t emotional, just empty feeling. He and his father had never been close. When his mother had passed from cancer in his late teens, it had done nothing to bring them closer. But Grant Raines had been his father.

  Jory felt a real need for that soft place he’d been talking about.

  He radioed through to the main office and said he was heading home. Scott sounded like he had been expecting the transmission when he told him to take the work truck rather than come back to base for his own vehicle. Jory didn’t question it, just headed for home.

  Bailey already knew. He let himself inside, and she walked straight up and wrapped her arms around him. Jory sunk into a kitchen chair and just held her, folded his arms around her waist and laid his cheek on her breasts. Her arms cradled his head and her fingers stroked gently through his hair. She didn’t say a word, just held him as if she were trying to absorb his pain, offering comfort and strength and the universal message of a loving woman—in her arms he didn’t have to prove a damn thing.

  He wished he had tears to spill, but they just weren’t there. The dampness of the cheek pressed to the top of his head told him Bailey was crying them for him. Not for his father. Bailey hadn’t known Grant well, nor particularly liked what she did know. He knew her tears were for his loss, for the pain he couldn’t feel.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there while Bailey held him—time had lost all meaning—but eventually he pulled back, looking up at her. Her tears had dried, but her indigo eyes held sorrow. “How did you find out?”

  “Pete was here dropping off some tools and steel when Andy called him. He didn’t want me to be wondering what was happening when you got home.”

  “I’m glad you were here.” He ran his hands up and down her back, drawing comfort from the feel of her pliant curves. “Much better than a bottle of whiskey.” He gently set her aside and stood up. “I’ve got to make some funeral arrangements and call his attorney. Can you run me a bath? I feel like soaking for a while.”