"Agreed." He took her by one hand and led her down a short cream hallway, the parquet floors buffed to a high shine. "But I'm about to." He kissed and nibbled her neck before gently pushing her away to sit on the perfectly made king-sized platform bed. He glanced up at her for an age, not moving, not saying anything, waiting to see how far he could try her patience and what she'd do once she'd reached the edge.
As expected, she fidgeted, shifting her weight from one leg to the other before finally slamming her fists on her hips in a challenge, rather than crossing her arms over her breasts in a defensive gesture.
Nick grinned. He liked her spirit, always had, and didn't want to diminish it in any way, only tame and redirect it. "Waiting for something?"
"I suppose permission." She sulked.
He arched a brow. "Permission…?"
"Aren't you supposed to be instructing me…Master?"
"I am. That patience is a virtue."
Slany sighed, rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and good things come to those who wait."
Nick chuckled at her petulance and offered a hand.
She instantly came to him, but did not sit down.
"Actually, I'm the one who's been more than patient. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I guess that depends." She licked her lips, and his cock twitched in his pants. He wanted her so badly, his body vibrated with the need to take her, to stretch and fill her with his hard cock, to feel her legs wrap around his waist.
Nick took a deep breath, determined to follow his own advice. "Take off your clothes,"
he commanded, his voice deceptively low and calm.
"Just…take them off? What will you be doing?"
"Those both sound suspiciously like questions to me."
Slany bit her bottom lip, made his mouth water as she put a hand on each slim strap of her dress and slowly slid them down her arms.
"Don't be shy."
"I've never exactly done a striptease before."
"You're not doing one now. You're just taking off your clothes. Act like I'm not here."
"Yeah, sure."
Nick laughed, loved her wry sense of humor. More impatient to see her naked than he thought, he sat up, reached for her dress, and helped her out of it, drawing the satin sheath down her body as she shimmied and turned him on even more. The soft black material pooled around 106
Terms of Surrender
her sandaled feet before she stepped out of it and stood before him in only a lacy black bra and her sandals.
Nick licked his lips, moved closer, and reached for her slit. He slowly swiped his fingers through her moist auburn curls, a deeper and richer color than the hair on her head. "I didn't get the best view in my office, and I wondered if you were a real redhead."
"So, now you know."
"Spread your legs," he murmured, and she did, planting her feet on either side of one of his thighs. He slid to the edge of the mattress and leaned in to inhale her essence, long and deep.
"God, Slany, you smell as good as you feel!"
He felt her lift a hand, felt the heat as her fingers hovered over his shoulder. He didn't say anything, wanted to see how long it would take for her to forget herself and disobey one of his rules, though this was one he was perfectly willing for her to break.
He wanted to feel her hands on him, feel her thighs around him as he slid in and out of her warm, wet depths.
"I…I want to see you, Nick."
"You will. When I'm ready." He felt her biting her tongue and glanced up from his survey to confirm, watching her as he slid two fingers inside.
She instinctively pitched her hips forward and closed her eyes as she groaned.
Before she could lose herself in how his fingers felt inside, Nick withdrew them and encircled her waist with both hands, surprised, despite the largeness of his hands when his fingertips almost touched. For someone so tall and thick, Slany had a decidedly slim waist, accentuated even more by her voluptuous breasts and ass.
He pulled her close, urged her to bend back as he glided a palm across the smooth skin of her abdomen, lingering over the slight roundness of her belly before bending his head to dip his tongue into her inny. She had a navel ring through it. So, his girl was a rebel.
Nick smiled and hooked the tip of his tongue through the cool silver jewelry.
Slany shivered and fisted her hands in his hair.
"If you can't control those hands of yours, I'm going to have to do something to ensure that you do."
"Oh, God."
He scented her gush, the musk of her desire rich and concentrated as it wafted to him on a wave of sudden realization.
So Ms. Breeze
was
into bondage? He hadn’t been sure, had only hoped. "You like that idea, don't you?"
She peered at him, eyes clouded with lust and maybe a little fear. "D-Depends on what you mean."
He wanted to tell her to trust him, that he would never hurt her, but what came out was,
"You know exactly what I mean, but just in case you don't, I’ll have to show you."
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Gracie C. McKeever
Slany didn't know what to do with her hands, each currently fisted at her sides as she waited. She was
not
virtuous, not where patience was concerned.
She turned her head slightly, daring to peek at Nick after he'd told her not to look.
She used the few moments he stood with his back to her to admire the muscles of his shoulders as he rummaged through the top drawer of an exquisite bureau. It looked like some kind of antique, as sturdy and beautifully exotic as the man looking through its contents.
Slany wanted to run her hands over both, furniture and man, and experience the earthy sensations of smooth skin and polished wood beneath her fingertips.
After a minute, Nick finally emerged, turning to her with a mischievous look glowing out of his honey eyes as he brandished a pair of padded leather cuffs in one hand and a black silk scarf in the other.
She stared at him, nipples aching, clit throbbing with the idea of what he was about to do to her, with her.
He slowly approached the bed.
Despite her nervousness and uncertainty, she decided she wouldn't let him blindfold her.
She would find some way to draw the line and keep him from doing that.
If she was going to be deprived of touching him, holding him, she wanted to at least see him. She needed to see him.
He had yet to take off his clothes. His only concession had been to remove his jacket and tie, broad hard-muscled shoulders still hidden beneath his shirt, long lean legs concealed beneath his pants.
What a waste, but that was okay. She would just have to let her imagination take over for now—as it had been for weeks—until she could get him out of his clothes as easily as he had gotten her out of hers.
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Terms of Surrender
Slany smacked her lips like a greedy predator, eager to see what she had so far been deprived. "Please, no," she said, voice unintentionally husky as she pierced him with a pleading look she hoped hit its mark.
"No handcuffs, or no blindfold?"
"No blindfold. I want to look at you."
"Remember your safe word."
She averted her eyes, felt herself fiercely blushing as she nodded. "I'm sorry. I forgot."
"I hope you don't find a reason to use it when you're with me."
Slany didn't think she would. She realized with a jolt of excitement zinging to all her private and not-so-private parts that she trusted him. She'd have to trust him to let the man shackle her wrists to the bedposts, as he was now doing.
Slany closed her eyes and inhaled deep when he leaned over her to secure the cuffs around her wrists, lungs filling with the pleasing masculine scent of him, clean and spicy, all Nick, all hot and aggressive male.
He sat on the edge of the mattress beside her when he was done, trailing the scarf along her skin, her shoulder, to finally rest at the crease between her left thigh.
She trembled, mouth suddenly dry as she watched him watching her.
"Relax," he commanded.
"I am relaxed."
"You're nervous."
She didn't even bother to debate with him, because he was right. Despite trusting him, she didn't know what was coming, was totally vulnerable and at his mercy, neither the sort of position she was used to finding herself in.
He slid off his shoes and came to his knees on the mattress between her legs.
Slany stared up at him, but didn't say anything.
"I like looking at you, Slany," he said, as if his actions warranted an explanation.
He leaned in to kiss her lips. "Do you like being bound?"
God, yes! I love it.
She couldn't say it out loud, as if admitting it to him would cinch her imagined illness.
Being bound gave her a strangely liberating feeling, made her feel freer than she ever had at work overseeing myriad staff and projects. At the office, she was bound by responsibilities, duties, deadlines. As a teen, she'd been bound by a whole different, but no less trying, set of responsibilities. Here with Nick, she was bound by none of those conventions, bound by nothing except her imagination and thirst for pleasure, the cuffs more a release than a restraint.
Here, there were no meetings to chair, no little brother or sister to raise, no father to take care of, just her naked body and how Nick made, and would make, it feel. She didn't have to think about what she needed to do for him, to him, just feel and react to what he did to her.
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Gracie C. McKeever
Slany swallowed, said nothing. She couldn't speak, was rendered mute by Nick’s perusal of her body.
He reached between her legs and gently opened her folds with his thumbs, bent his head to lick her wanting clit, slowly sucked and nibbled the engorged flesh to vibrant life. The flesh bloomed like a berry on the vine, ready to burst in his mouth.
She moaned, arching her hips to bring his mouth closer, and when he plunged his tongue inside her, deeply, hungrily, she screamed, struggling against her shackles.
She needed to touch him, hold him!
Slany bucked her hips to meet his thrusts, mindless of whether she was hurting him, would bruise or smother him.
He caught her hips and held her in place against the firm mattress as he worked in earnest, lapping at her as if she were his first and last meal.
Her uterus contracted and expanded, heat flaring in her center, rising up and through her body, simultaneously bathing her limbs and nerves in cold heat, every sensation intensified by her restraints, by his masculinity and superior strength.
She felt perspiration beading her forehead and upper lip, climax overtaking her like a masked bank robber, sudden and violent, body spasming inside and out.
Slany opened her eyes several seconds after her body finally stilled and watched Nick sitting beside her, gaze drifting over her body with stimulating intent as he caressed her with one hand from head to foot.
She licked her lips, tongue sluggish like her eyes she could barely keep open, like her body paradoxically heavy with satisfaction and need. "Please, I want to see you."
"You want to see me, what?"
"Master." It shocked her that the word left her mouth so effortlessly, almost automatic, as if she had been saying it, addressing him thus, for years.
Nick silently reached for the buttons of his designer shirt, slowly unbuttoning each one before drawing his arms out of the sleeves.
Slany squirmed on the bed, his movements taunting her with the view of his well-muscled torso, abdomen hard and sectioned like a swimmer's, and almost as smooth but for a small sprinkling of dark hair between his pectorals, light trail arrowing down beneath the waistband of his slacks. The sight made her more anxious to feel him, made her want to follow that trail of hair with her tongue.
God this was so unfair! She'd never felt so helpless, so needy and vulnerable before, and she wasn't sure how much she liked it.
Her fingers automatically flexed with the need to run up and down his body, feel his velvety skin and hard muscles beneath her palms. Slany watched him stand, slowly unzip his slacks and drop them to the floor. She was finally gifted with a banquet of long, lean legs, his calves and thighs athletic, tightly corded like a runner's, but not overly bulky like a weight lifter's.
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Terms of Surrender
She had a brief second to glimpse his round, masculine ass covered in a pair of navy boxer briefs and swallowed hard at the idea of cupping each firm cheek in her hands.
Nick stepped out of his pants, leisurely strutted back to the bed. His movements were unruffled and nonchalant, as if he were unaware of her focus or didn't care about it one way or the other.
He sat beside her, gaze heated and attention rapt as he ran the back of a hand down one arm, from shoulder to wrist.
It killed her to just lay there unmoving, unable to reciprocate and only watch him. Her legs itched to wrap around his waist, eager to feel him between her thighs as he rode her hard.
She peeked at his lap, where the cotton material of his boxer briefs hugged his hard penis, barely able to contain his large size.
"I can tell you're not used to this, not being in control."
She licked her lips, vagina wet and weeping with wanting him.
No, she wasn't used to it, but she could get used to it very quickly.
"Every muscle is tight. Relax, Slany. I'm only going to make you feel good. Nothing you have to brace yourself for, no reason to be tense."
The hell there wasn't. There was every reason to feel tight and tense and on edge. She was at a disadvantage. She was at his mercy. "I want to see you," she whispered.
He spread his arms. "This isn't enough?"
"To tease me, maybe."
"Tease and please and torment." He leaned in to suckle her throat, making her shiver beneath him as he dragged his mouth along the column of her neck up to her chin. He licked the cleft in the middle, taking his time moving up to her lips. He nibbled the bottom one before lazily dipping his tongue into her mouth, reacquainting himself with her taste, as if he hadn't just taken the most intimate sample of all with his previous kiss below.