What insanity was this? How could she possibly be standing fully clothed and free while a naked man grilled her about the most intimate aspects of her life? “No, sir.”
“Why not?”
“It—it hurt a little. I didn’t know what to expect. He came so fast.” She might have said more if her throat hadn’t threatened to close down.
“But you liked it well enough that you went back to him? Or maybe it was with another boy the next time.”
Maybe he already knew the answer. Something about the heat in his gaze said he was ahead of her. He certainly held the upper hand when it came to self-control as witnessed by his still half-erection while it took every bit of willpower not to press her thighs together. “Not a boy the second time, sir. My boyfriend’s older cousin. He—he was around thirty.”
“And he knew what he was doing.”
Oh shit had he! She’d lost his name to the years but not the power and impact of that first climax. She remembered screaming and crying, offering to suck his cock in gratitude afterward and being granted her request. She remembered agreeing to see him night after night for the better part of a month—once he’d made sure she was on the pill—and trying to tell herself that she wasn’t falling in love with him; but if he continued fucking her out of her mind, she’d never want anyone her age.
Then his heretofore nonexistent wife had returned from wherever she’d been and that had been the end of that—except for feeling betrayed and being turned on to sex, that is.
Maybe she’d told the Viking that; maybe he’d read her mind. Whichever it was, she could only stand there with her secrets hanging from her and wait for what he wanted and said next.
“This is my place,” he told her. “My present reality. I’ve let you into it because you’re ready. From now on we do what I want, do you understand?”
Wasn’t she already dancing to his tune? Maybe not completely but she sure as hell couldn’t walk away since she didn’t know where they were and the words from now on had turned her on even more. After years of directing the words and actions and emotions of men who existed in her mind, being confronted by one who’d never dance to any woman’s tune was intriguing, and maybe dangerous. “I understand.”
“I know you do.” Stepping toward her, he laid his big, callused hand on her shoulder—the one that had cramped not long ago. “In time you’ll understand why this is happening and your role in it, but I’m not ready for you to go there yet. First come the lessons.”
“Lessons?”
“In understanding your body’s needs.”
Why are we doing this? she wanted to ask, but maybe she didn’t. Maybe the journey was everything. Saying that her nerve endings were exposed didn’t go nearly far enough in explaining what she was experiencing, especially now with his voice rolling through her, his bones and muscles and skin speaking to hers, his eyes working their way to her soul, and his cock promising everything.
The strength went out of her arms, causing them to flop by her sides. She had to lock her knees to keep from collapsing. And the drums—the drums had begun pounding. “You’re what they call an independent woman, ambitious, dedicated to putting your career first.”
“You make it sound like a negative,” she managed.
“In your world, ambition is necessary, but you’ll no longer need it.”
A warning alarm went off. Still, unless she was terribly wrong, he was promising her something, not threatening. “What will I need?”
“Trust. Do you trust me, Evi Hult?”
“How can you ask that? I don’t know anything about you.” And what if you were spawned in my mind’s deepest recesses?
“I’m Thorn, from a space and place where men understand what the word trust means and women listen to their bodies and don’t fear them. Listen to yours now and tell me what it’s telling you.”
That I’m dreaming, drunk, delusional, maybe all three. “I don’t know.” Despite her denial, she sensed energy and anticipation. A naked man named Thorn sure as hell hadn’t come to fix the plumbing.
“You don’t know because you don’t allow yourself to. You’re afraid of your body.”
“I’m what?” Much as she wanted to fold her arms over her breasts, she couldn’t concentrate on the complex task. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I exercise, take long walks, watch what I eat, and—”
“Quiet!”
Shocked by the harsh tone, she closed her mouth. As a young girl, she’d been the model student, the pleaser, sometimes the teacher’s pet. She’d seldom gotten in trouble, only once had broken her curfew, hadn’t received so much as a single traffic ticket. Still, there were times when she wanted to kick off the traces of that life, come to work without her bra, see if she could get away with shoplifting, say yes to a one-night stand.
“You walk a line that’s not right for you,” he said, sounding like a supervisor discussing her job performance. “You’ve been doing it for so many years that you’re convinced this is what you want from life, but it isn’t. The truth comes out when your defenses are down, at night, when you’re alone.”
“What do I want?”
“For the primitive bitch deep inside to break free.”
Had he just called her the next thing to a whore? But instead of being indignant, she was intrigued. “What makes you think that’s inside me?”
“I know. And I’m here to help the bitch emerge.”
What was she supposed to do, thank him for the offer?
“You don’t believe me, but there wouldn’t be any reason for what we’re going to do here if you did.” The corner of his mouth twitching, he jerked his head indicating he wanted her to come closer.
She did, damn it, planted one numb foot after another like a cow plodding to slaughter. Only, she was approaching a prime example of the male animal, not a place of quick and bloody death.
“Turn around.”
No, no! Not giving up control. “What are you going to do?”
“Turn around!”
His voice, like thunder and lightning. Not shaking, not even thinking, she did. Having her back to him changed little because she still felt him everywhere. Her spine was stiffening and losing strength at the same time, her heart thumping and wet heat blooming between her legs. What was this, the thrill of danger?
She couldn’t say how long he made her stand there with her hands fisted and senses alert. When he pushed her shoulder-length hair aside and ran his teeth over the base of her neck, she nearly collapsed. Her quiet yet electric sigh went on and on.
“What are you thinking now?” he asked, his hand still in her hair and his breath warming the lightly abraded flesh.
Fuck. I’m thinking fuck.
“Answer me.”
“That—damn, damn, that this is insane.”
“It is.” He nibbled again. “Now what are you feeling?”
“Alive!” she blurted. “Alive.” Lifting her arms and running them behind her head, she tried to touch him. Her fingers brushed his cheek, but when she went in search of his mouth, he pushed against the back of her head and forced her to bend over.
“Listen to me. You have lessons to learn. I touch you when and where and how I want. You touch me only when I give you permission.”
“Permission?”
Leaning down so far put her in danger of falling; she couldn’t stop herself from clamping her hands around his wrist and trying to pry him off her. He responded by grabbing her hair again and yanking her first upright and then back until her shoulders pressed against his chest.
“Silence!”
She could hardly breathe. Her back ached. Her eyes were tearing. And her nipples had become so hard and tight that she longed to rip off her bra.
“Now, concentrate on my voice. And what I’m saying. You’re going to do that, aren’t you?”
She nearly said something before she remembered that he’d ordered her not to speak. Nodding as best she could, she counted the march of seconds in
his grip. This was a powerful man, a confident male, unaccustomed to being disobeyed. And she’d always been obedient.
“I’m going to let you stand upright again but only because it pleases me to do so. Before we’re done with each other, what pleases me will have the same effect on you, but you have a long way to go before you truly understand what that means. I expect you to fight me; your journey would be incomplete if you didn’t. But no matter what happens, I want you to understand and believe one thing.”
Finally, thank goodness, he helped her straighten. And when he released her hair and lightly closed his hands over her upper arms, she half believed he was comforting her and giving her courage. Instead of taking off at a dead run, she buried herself in his strong warmth.
“I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”
Just like that she believed him, believed with every fiber of her being.
“You’re shaking. Are you afraid?”
The simple thing would be to tell him that yes, of course she was afraid, but she didn’t want to lie to this man who called himself Thorn and was going to take her places she’d never been. “No. At least I don’t think I am.”
“Good. Evi, I’m not immune. I want you, in ways that we’ll never forget. Do you want the same thing?”
I don’t know what you’re talking about. “Yes.”
“Good. I’m going to let go of you now, but you’re going to stay where you are, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
He released her shoulders, and she sensed that he’d taken a backward step. Except for a slight shiver, she didn’t move. The dungeon, if that was truly where they were, threatened claustrophobia. What had happened to Dungeon Dames and how had they gotten here? Even more important, when and how was she going to return to the world she knew and trusted?
When he wants, came the reply.
“Put your hands behind you.”
Ah, something to do, a command to obey. But even as she complied, a part of her raged at the compliant pleaser who’d always done what people told her to. Another part warned of that damnable cave in her mind. If she’d been a rebel or stood up for—
What was that?
The answer came as a strip of leather closed around her right wrist. Squeaking under her breath, she tried to jerk free, only to have his hand tighten over her forearm. “Settle, settle, let it happen.”
Although his grip lessened, she absolutely knew he wasn’t going to release her. He’d told her to trust him and she’d believed him, back then. All she needed to do was return to that state. No darkness. No thinking about absolute helplessness.
Muttering something she didn’t try to hold on to, he drew her arm back behind her, making it clear she was expected to keep it there. One-handed, he easily looped more leather around her free wrist, then pressed her palms together. Concentrating on the strain in her shoulders momentarily distracted her. A solid snap followed almost immediately by another told her what she didn’t need words for. A short length of metal chain had been fastened to her leather bracelets. Tentative experimentation told her that the chain was no more than four inches long. Handcuffed; he’d handcuffed her. Those things happened in her mind’s cave. Oh shit, was that where they were going?
“Step one.”
How many steps were there and where would she be when they were over?
“Turn around, face me.”
For the first time in her life, she was a prisoner in more than her imagination. The simple act of rendering her arms useless was having a powerful effect on her, not fear, thank God, but something so different she couldn’t put a name to it. She was vulnerable and yet trusting, anticipating the unknown.
“I’m not going to tell you what I’m going to do; I’ll simply do it. Your responsibility is to experience. That’s all you have to do today, Evi, experience. And when I ask, you’re to tell me what you’re feeling. You understand, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
A sardonic smile lightened his sober expression. Still smiling faintly, he tugged her three-month-old pale green blouse out of her waistband. Standing as he wanted her forced her to widen her stance slightly, and she deliberately avoided looking down at what he was doing. Once he’d freed her blouse, he tended to the buttons. As each button surrendered its assigned task, her sense of vulnerability grew. More than that, she could barely wait for him to be done. Already he’d taught her that she could be hot and cold at the same time, shaking and eager.
The last to go was the button between her breasts. She expected him to pull her blouse back, revealing her practical pink bra, but he left her with her modesty—not her freedom but a shadow of the modesty that was an ingrained part of her.
Or was it? Maybe not, because she was already anticipating what would happen once they were equally naked.
Stepping back, he cocked his head to the side and studied his prisoner, his captive, his what?
“What—what are you thinking?”
“That you’re a beautiful woman. With long arms and legs, lean hips but with breasts better suited for a larger woman.”
“They’re—I can’t do anything about that.”
“Would you if you could?”
Starting to develop sexually at ten had nearly been her undoing. What did she want with breasts when all she cared about was playing basketball? And periods—whose idea of a joke was that! But she’d eventually resigned herself to the inevitable, to say nothing of attention from adolescent boys and envy on the part of her girlfriends. Now, although she kept that piece of information to herself, she was more than a little proud of the way she’d turned out. Yes, her size Cs were better suited for a larger frame, but they got her noticed. And on those nights when need outstripped opportunity, a little pinching and massaging of her mammary glands was sure to hurry her journey to a climax. Telling him that no, she wouldn’t have designed herself for a B cup, she waited his response.
He didn’t say anything, damn it. Instead, he reached out and, with a single, expert motion, undid her skirt’s snap. Another practiced move dispensed with the zipper.
As eager and afraid as she’d been the night she surrendered her virginity, she balanced herself on shaking legs while he tugged the tailored black garment over her hips, down her thighs, past her knees and calves. He left it mounded around her ankles. A jerk of his head told her what to do but stepping out of it taxed her ability to remain upright.
Again looking amused, he turned his attention to her panty hose. Normally she wore slacks to work, but there’d been a meeting this morning and, thinking it might involve planning future projects, she’d wanted to present herself as a professional. Instead, she’d been told about the acquisition of the defunct porn studio and given her assignment.
Thorn didn’t care about that. Thorn cared only about stripping off the damnable hose. Deliberately looking past his shoulder, she struggled to divorce herself from her body, struggled and failed. Layers were being stripped away, privacy surrendered.
She wanted it, and she didn’t. She was scared shitless and so alive she wondered if she might take flight because bit by bit she was turning her separate self over to this stranger.
3
Slow, a delicious slowness that piled up around her until she was silently screaming. The nylon became silk and burlap on her thighs. Inch by inch, cool air stroked her skin, and always his fingers were there, touching, teasing, testing, leaving and returning. When he slid the heels of his hands over the outsides of her thighs, pressure resonated throughout her and settled deep in her groin. Knowing, absolutely knowing that before he was done with her, his hands would be all over her, sex flung her mind off into a dark space.
He met her in it, sheltering and challenging with nothing more than his fingers and deep eyes, and his cock of course. “What are you feeling?” he asked when at long last, her hose roped her ankles.
“I don’t—I can’t explain—I’ve never—”
“Do you love or hate your body?”
“It’s never felt like this.”
“Hmm. You can’t walk, can you? If you tried to, you’d fall.”
He was right; her panty hose made effective ankle restraints. Concentrating on not losing her balance distracted her from her humming and heated body and yet everything was flowing together, part of a threaded whole. How easily he’d restrained her. Despite her continued concern over not toppling over, just knowing he’d planned this held her interest. She who seldom kissed and had never fucked on the first date and had never allowed herself to be picked up had turned into what? Surely no one she’d ever met before.
Leaving her hobbled and with her heels on, he stepped behind her so he could unfasten her bra. “Watch,” he ordered when he again stood in front of her. Several long blinks later, he’d come back into focus again. Watching her intently, he ran her blouse off her shoulders and down her arms until her cuffs stopped him. Sliding his hands under her bra, he cupped her breasts, captured them really. “Full. And warm, so warm.”
Yours, you’ve made them yours.
“It’s time for me to learn what I need to about them. I need you to be honest, you can do that, can’t you, be honest.”
“Why?” she whimpered. “Why are we doing this?”
“We? So you’re acknowledging that you’re as much a part of this as I am, a full participant, that’s what you’re saying?”
Of course she was; she didn’t, after all, have any choice. But that was a lie, because she’d invited the man into her room and taken off her clothes. Back when Thorn had stepped into the room, she could have run away, refused to leave her world, insisted he not touch her.
Couldn’t she?
But he was offering her something she’d long craved even as she’d denied bondage was anything more than a familiar daydream.
“Answer me!” Grabbing her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, he pulled her toward him. “You want this, need this.”
Need pain? Need tears in her eyes and her nipples being smashed? “Please, please, don’t hurt—”
“I’ll do what I want, what you need.” A tug reinforced the sharp words. “Go into yourself, Evi, deep inside.”
Bound to Ecstasy Page 2
