Handcuffed by Her Hero

by Angel Payne

  The message finally seemed to get through. Thank God. Apprehension and expectation played over her face. He was about to let out a breath and slacken his grip—when the defiance surged back into every inch of her stance. “So…what? Is that supposed to scare me?”

  Hell.

  He let her go and moved back. One wide step. Another.

  Now you need to turn around and leave completely. Now. Get your ass downstairs before you start really contemplating how good it would be to chop that saucy attitude to pieces in screaming, writhing, climaxing, sinfully submissive chunks.

  “Yeah, bird. It sure as fuck is.”

  She didn’t move except to slide both hands to her hips. Christ. She was breathtaking. Her stance defined her luscious curves in every damn way. Was she actually tapping one set of turquoise-polished toes?

  “Well, it doesn’t.”

  Goddamnit. Yeah, she was tapping. And glowing. And tempting him with every rise of her beautiful breasts, every tug of teeth at her cinnamon-dark lips, every drop of need in her open, honest eyes.

  XXX -- She wanted this. And damn it, he did, too.

  He pivoted and took another step toward the threshold. Rayna coiled her fists tighter at her hips. That pushed the shirt harder at her breasts, stretching the parrots that matched her stubborn toes. Fuck. His shirt got to feel up more of her than him, and he was the one getting glared at like Caligula? This was wrong. On a number of shit-laden levels.

  “Well, it should.” He sneered it viciously enough for the Caligula rep.

  “Got that part, Sergeant. Are we moving on now?”

  For a moment, he was plunged back into disbelief. For another he just blinked, unable to splice together the sweet friend who’d gone fishing with him in August was this mouthy rebel who tempted him with every lift of her chin and toss of her thick red mane.

  In the third, his fury slammed him back into action. As he regained the distance back to her, he tore off the T-shirt in which he’d been sleeping. “You want to throw down on this, Rayna?” he charged. “Then let’s do it.” Ignoring her open gawk at the sudden exposure of his chest, he seized one of her hands and forced it against the tattoo between his pecs. The small black circle, divided into three equal slices that bore a dot each, rose and fell with his incensed breaths. “Touch it,” he ordered, “since you seem to know so much about it. The triskelion means something to me, Rayna—something so deep that it’s stamped into the skin over my heart. All three sections of it. Safe, sane, consensual. They’re embedded into me. They’re part of me.”

  She nodded. “I—I know, Zeke.”

  He tugged her chin up with a finger. The brat was gone. Fresh tears glistened in the dark jade pools of her eyes. This was actually a good sign. Maybe she was really comprehending the depth of this subject, especially for him. “You do?” he challenged. “So that’s why you’re standing here in a cabin in the Cascades with me, miles from any human let alone your phone or clothes, freely offering yourself to me?” He tilted his head. “Did I get all that right?”

  Shockingly, her face broke into a soft smile. “Zeke—”

  “Because you see, honey, that ‘consensual’ part implies a little something called trust.”

  She pulled his hand away from her chin and curled one of her own around it. Her other hand still rested atop his tattoo.

  Atop his heart.

  When she spoke again, her tears flowed as steadily as her words. “Let me be clear. I know what I’m asking. I know where I am. Right here, alone in a cabin with you, Zeke Hayes. Without my phone. Without my clothes. There’s really only me. And with all of me, I trust you. Not stupidly, not blindly. I am giving you the trust you’ve earned from me, over and over and over again.”

  He expelled a weighted huff. “And here we are again. Back to the hero thing.” He pushed back, disentangling his hand.

  “You need to listen—”

  “No, you need to listen. Stop making this into something from a movie or a sappy novel. What went down with King was doing my job.”

  “And what went down with Mua was, too. Right?”

  He knew she’d go there. And was ready. “Tied into the same stinking mess,” he admonished. “You and I both know that.”

  Rayna blinked at him fresh tears. “So how do you explain what went down with Kier?”

  Forget the boot in his gut. Her words were the talons of a crane now, ripping into him, picking him up and flinging him fifteen years into the past.

  Kier. Holy fuck, he hadn’t heard or seen from that asswipe since they’d both squeaked by with their high school diplomas, though the guy had been a filthy spot on his radar for years before that. Between shuttling drugs, fencing fake watches, and beating up half the school, the guy always found time to hang out in the park and spin up creative ways to make life hell for anyone who dared to cross his unofficial turf. Like girls who just wanted to enjoy a walk on a sunny day…

  Stop where you are, asshole, or I’ll give this stupid squaw a nice little scalping.

  Way to go, Rayna. That went about as wrong as it could have, huh? Maybe, girlfriend, you do need to go back to the jungle. Maybe you really are just a stupid little squaw.

  He lifted his head and looked at Rayna with a stare that forced the years to fall from her face. He willed himself to see her as a girl blooming into her teen years, with that red hair hanging a little longer and bangs caressing her eyebrows. She was wearing capri pants and a fuchsia pink top. Dirty tears tracked her cheeks. And Kier was hanging his bare, dirty dick over her face.

  “That was you.”

  His voice was a hoarse effort. Rayna’s reply was no stronger.

  “That was me.”

  “How—”

  “Sally. I went to see her. I finally let her hypnotize me.”

  That made him laugh. At himself. “The hypnosis I kept telling you get?”

  “Yep.”

  The time travel crane went to work again. It tore him open just as deeply as it dumped him back here with Rayna, gaping at her through a haze of shock, incredulity, amazement. No wonder she’d come to see him at the club. No wonder that since then she’d kept looking at him like her goddamn wishing star had just crash landed.

  Maybe it had.

  For both of them.

  And maybe it was time to do something about that.

  Without wasting another word, another breath, he closed the distance to her again. Before he was done planting his feet, he curled his hand into her hair and yanked hard. A little cry burst from her, swirling to him like an enchantress’ smoke. Like the cobra called by that smoke, he plunged his mouth to hers. He bit, sucked and licked, countering his violent hold with smooth caresses to her face. She bent for him without constraint, showing him with her body what her lips had already given.

  Her trust.

  The most precious gift she’d ever handed to him.

  As the rain began again, the room darkened. Zeke pulled away to watch the gray and silver shadows play across all the lively, gorgeous curves of her face. He sucked away a few of the tears that clung to her cheeks then delved his gaze into her eyes, giving her something in return.

  An order.

  “Take this thing off. Then kneel for me, honey.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Saying those words for a man had never been a spark in Rayna’s mind, even after what she’d learned from Sage about the world of D/s, but right now, they felt completely natural. Magical. And so, so perfect.

  Because she’d uttered them for Zeke.

  Because she knew what they’d do for him.

  Because she needed to know what they’d do for her, too.

  She thought the admission would grant her a clinical distance about this, make this threshold feel safer to jump over somehow. Yeah, and wearing a parachute made it less terrifying to hurtle out of a plane. Detachment wasn’t happening. Shivering, tremulous, nervousness and awareness were happening, along with the sense that shedding th
e Dopey shirt off was stripping more than the shield to her nudity. Something significant in her mind dropped, too. Too late, she realized what it was. Her inner uptown girl. That horny, cavalier, this-is-just-sex girl from Thursday night wasn’t here anymore. This wasn’t just sex anymore, either.

  This was surrender. A gift that showed him how deeply he’d woven himself into her heart, how dark the ink of his heroism was tattooed upon her life. She made the offering with the fullness of her soul because she knew what it would mean to him…but also what it meant to her.

  Yes. God help her, she wanted this with every cell in her body. Not forever. Probably not even tomorrow. But right now, nothing felt more right than dropping to her knees before him, fixing her gaze on his rough bare feet and waiting, breath held, for what he’d do with her next.

  What would he do with her next?

  By the sound of his puma’s growl, she sensed his dark answer for that. But he was stealthy and still otherwise, continuing to stand over her, which made her shiver in anticipation…and drip in arousal. It took a shaking breath and pressed lips to hold back her whimper as desire clenched every inch of her wet pussy.

  “So stunning,” he finally told her in a husky grate. “Thank you, bird.”

  As he lowered a hand to the top of her head, kneading his fingers into her scalp, Rayna managed, “My—my pleasure, Sir.”

  His massages stopped. He slid that hand to the side of her face, bracketing her jaw with his thumb and forefinger before lifting her face up. “Not yet, sweetheart.” His answering gaze was burnished with possessive smoke. “But soon. Very soon.”

  He pulled away from her and settled back into his A-frame stance a few feet away. Defying her control, her gaze lifted from his feet. Up his carved and mighty calves. Over the defined tendons and muscles of his thighs. Lingering for a long moment on the hard force that punched at his nylon shorts before raising to the arrow of hair that bisected the defined ladders of his abs. When she looked even higher, it was to view his coiled arms atop the dark breadth of his chest. Across every inch of him, there were scars, nicks and bruises, some silvered from long-ago battles and some painfully new. He was a walking scrapbook of violent battle and contained power.

  He could really hurt her, and nobody would know.

  Why did that make her nipples go painfully hard and her channel push out even more wet arousal?

  Finally, she couldn’t bear the unknowing silence anymore. “Wh-what happens now?” She glanced up at him though she’d heard that was a major subbie no-no.

  Zeke emitted a deep hum that didn’t make things easier for her nerves or her nipples. “It’s already happening, bird.”

  “Huh?”

  “Ssshh. Just breathe,” he instructed. “And just be. Right now, it’s your job to simply let me look. And believe me, honey, I’m looking.”

  The sultry cadence that entered his voice made the cold rain suddenly seem a summer cloudburst. She was washed in liquid warmth, feeding off his sensual strength. It was a little confusing. Wasn’t she the one required to give over the power here? Then why did she feel powerful enough to fight an invading army by herself? The thought made her squirm a little, only increasing the flow of tantalizing tingles through her bloodstream.

  “Nervous?” Zeke asked softly.

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “Then other things are making you wiggle, too.”

  Her head fell. She couldn’t even look at his feet when she admitted, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Let me see.”

  “I—what?” she stuttered.

  “You heard me, bird. Let me see your aroused pussy. Spread your knees wider and lay your back against the floor, so your cunt is pushed up for my inspection.”

  She’d expected orders from him but not like this. And his tone? No more seductive silk. He really was Vader now, without the creepy hyperventilation. His deep, guttural tone said he expected to be obeyed without question.

  She didn’t ask any questions.

  With quivering limbs and a shaking heartbeat, she moved her knees apart before lowering her back to the floor.

  “Raise your hands above your head,” he said, reading the confusion in her awkward hand flails. “Join them together, flat on the floor.”

  Once she’d complied, she held her breath and waited for the next instruction. None came. Zeke barely moved, aside from stepping closer to line up his toes with her kneecaps. Two minutes ago, she’d been unable to rip her gaze from him. This change-up took care of that obsession. She riveted her attention on the ceiling, just trying to maintain the position though she was hyperaware of every breath on her lips, every pulse in her blood, every molecule of air that hit the moist tissues she’d opened for his examination. With her arms positioned overhead, she was completely exposed to him from the waist up, as well. He took full advantage of the moment. The weight of his stare was hot as a bath in candle wax, encasing her in its heat one inch at a time. She’d never been commanded to assume such a vulnerable physical position before.

  It didn’t come close to what he was doing to her on the inside.

  She was scared. Excited. Trembling. Rejoicing. Unsure. Unfettered. Small, so small, yet poised on the threshold of something significant…magnificent. Beyond that doorway, something glowed just out of her reach, a captivating but terrifying light.

  “Oh, honey.” Zeke’s rough rasp tugged her an inch closer to that magical portal. “You are glistening, aren’t you? And I haven’t even told you what I have planned for your sweet little body yet.”

  She attempted a nonchalant shrug. “M-maybe it’s okay to just surprise me.”

  “Maybe it’s not.” There was half a laugh in the words, but it definitely danced on a stage of black humor. “You’re going to hear what I’ve got in mind, bird, because I want to see how your body reacts to it. Then I need to hear your lips consent to all of it.”

  She fired off a dismissive huff. “We’ve been through this. Zeke, I—”

  “You trust me,” he retorted. “I know that. And thank you. But this isn’t negotiable, bird. Not by a long shot.”

  She took her turn to laugh. “‘Negotiable?’ Really? You want to draw up a little contract while we’re at it, Sergeant?”

  He scooted his toes to the insides of her knees then widened his stance, making her spread further for him. “That’s ‘Sir’ to you from this point forward, honey. And yes; we’ll stop and draft a contract if we have to. This isn’t the part you rush through. This honesty is the keystone of the bridge, got it?”

  She let him have a frustrated snort for that. “Of course I got it, okay? Zeke,” —she rushed to correct herself— “Sir, when are you going to get it through your head that I’ve thought about this? That, maybe just once, I really want this?”

  She expected him to pull the toe-scooting thing again. Maybe add a grunt this time. Maybe, just maybe he’d smile in pleasure and get on with—whatever the hell he was going to get on with.

  She should’ve remembered that this man and the word expected weren’t on speaking terms with each other.

  The thought ricocheted through her brain as Zeke acted with wildcat speed. In one sweep, he’d moved to stand above her head. In another, he crouched and grabbed her wrists. In a third, he whipped her around to face the leather couch. The velocity of it all caused her to lose balance and pitch forward. She was able to stop her fall by gripping the top of the couch. He flowed his body in perfect synch with her, pressing his breaths to her nape, his chest against her spine, his thighs along hers. He shoved the hair off her neck before biting his way to the curve of her ear.

  “When are you going to get it through your head that I’ve wanted this, fantasized about this, since the night I met you?” He plunged both hands down to grab her inner thighs. With feral force, he pulled them open, settling her naked backside against the hard, huge length that defined his crotch. “That even in that hospital bed after the stabbing, my cock turned my gown into a goddamn central supply tent bec
ause of what I thought of doing with you…and to you.”

  He didn’t give the words half a second to sink in before he demonstrated for himself, scraping his fingers along the sensitive flesh on both sides of her labia. Those intimate lips quivered in response. Joined with the way his legs kept brushing the backs of her knees, his assault became a torment of blissful agony. Dear God. Zeke’s College of Power Exchange was in session, and Breathing was on the optional courses list. Speaking? Not part of the curriculum.

  “Even in Korea,” he went on in a grate that turned the rest of her bloodstream to mush, “hell, especially in Korea, I dreamed of all the ways I wanted to take your body and turn it inside out. How I wanted to tear inside your mind, pull out all your pain, then—”

  She felt him suppress the rest on an agonized grunt. Rayna protested by surging herself back and rolling her head against his shoulder. Then what? Holy hell, Zeke. Tell me before I have to throw myself over the balcony in order to ease this fire you’ve set in my body.

  The new frisson of tension through his frame told her he might just be on that mind track. Thank God she was right.

  “I’m going to start out by keeping you right here, bird. I’m going to bend you over so your ass is nice and high for me. Then I’m going to make it beautiful and pink by spanking it with my bare hand. After I warm us both up, I’ll be doing it fast and I’ll be doing it hard.”

  She moaned for him. Or thought she did. She couldn’t hear anything for a moment beyond his smoldering breaths in her ear and the rush of arousal to her bloodstream.

  “When your pussy is dripping from that, I’m going to make you get on the bed. You’ll be facing up so I can watch every sigh on your lips as I secure you to the four corners of it. Then I’ll watch every scream as I subject your skin to a bunch of very interesting sensations.”

  Rayna already gave him the sigh he predicted. “Do—do I get to know what they are?” she managed to squeak.