Bound to Please (6 page)

But the outlook didn’t interest him as much as her music collection. Soon he was flipping through a crate of records she kept next to her ancient record player. “You really do like jazz.”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They were my dad’s.”

He looked up. “You close with your folks?”

“Not really. My dad left when I was sixteen. When Mom tracked him down, she left to be with him. Now, I get the occasional e-mail or postcard. I think they’re in Thailand at the moment.”

He blinked at her but didn’t press her for information, which she appreciated. Instead he slipped a record out of a sleeve and gently placed it on the turntable.

Ruby loved the first few scratchy seconds right after the needle dropped onto vinyl. Silently they listened to the static, and then the soft piano of a Thelonious Monk tune drifted through the speakers.

Mark stood, and she followed his gaze to the black-and-white picture hanging over the fireplace. It was a photograph of a woman’s back. Rope came down from her neck, winding around her shoulders and across her arms, multiple times, ending with one knot that held her wrists tightly at the base of her spine.

Mark glanced at her. “You?”

She nodded. Her walls were filled with the black-and-white photographs she’d taken during her college years at RIT. But there was one that wasn’t hers, the only photograph she’d kept from her time with Ash. Of course, Mark had honed right in on it.

It didn’t show her face or even her tattoo. But he knew it was her. He already knew her that well. Even her own sister had never made the connection, which was why she’d kept the photograph on her wall.

“Gorgeous,” he said.

She laughed nervously. “That’s because you can’t see my face.”

He turned to her then, his gaze sharp. “I never want to hear you talk about yourself that way, Ruby. Understand?”

All she could do was nod.

Rooted to the floor, she stood stock-still as he approached her. Then he was kissing her again, with that gentle yet commanding way that turned her insides to mush. She barely noticed the firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her to her knees.

She closed her eyes, felt the wool of the Persian rug scratch the skin of her knees. The floor grounded her as she turned inward, mentally preparing herself for whatever he wanted to do to her.

For the millionth time she wondered how this was happening—how she’d let it happen. And yet, it felt powerful somehow. Mark said he would push her, but, more important, she was pushing herself to explore these fantasies she’d been hiding for so long.

“Are you ready?”

Her belly quivered with nerves and anticipation. “Yes.” She braced herself on the floor.

She heard his boots thudding as he circled her. “Can you follow instructions?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you still wearing your panties?”

She speared him with a look.

Legs planted in a wide stance before her, he held his hands clasped before him. Despite his commanding posture, he smiled at her. “There will be rules. Such as, no dirty looks.”

She tried not to roll her eyes.

“Also. Don’t move unless I tell you to. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Unless of course, you want me to stop. If you want me to stop, you can say… Chihuahua.”

“Chihuahua?”

“You want me to stop already?”

“No… but Chihuahua?” She tried not to laugh.

He also seemed to be holding back his humor. “You just broke a rule. Such a bad girl, but I’ll enjoy punishing you for it.”

She bit her lip to keep from telling him to go fly a kite.

His smile faded, became more serious. “Now, are you ready, Ruby darling?”

Every muscle in her body seemed to tremble as she took a deep breath and met his stare. Last chance. She could still run away. Scream Chihuahua.

And always wonder what it would have been like.

She took a deep breath and straightened. “I’m ready.”

“Take off your dress.”

Her arms trembled as she lifted the hem of her skirt up over her thighs, her black panties, her back. He finished the job by raising the dress over her head, and then she was exposed except for her black lace panties and gold stilettos. She felt goose bumps trickle up her arms.

He took her hair in his hands and moved it aside, draping the heavy length over her shoulder. She felt a hot kiss at the back of her neck, right over the cherry blossoms tattooed at the nape.

His soft lips and warm breath calmed her shaky body. She closed her eyes, listening as he moved. She heard the clinking of brass as he unbuckled his belt. Then the sound of leather sliding across cloth reached her ears. Her breath caught in her throat.

Softly, so softly it was like a whisper, he took the strap of black leather and drew it over her skin. Around her neck, over her collarbone, across the back of her shoulders.

Ash had used only soft hemp rope. So much heavier, this leather. It scratched her skin like the music coming from the old vinyl scratched her ears, and there was something distantly comforting in the sensation.

As he caressed her skin with his belt, she absorbed its commanding weight, knew Mark held that exquisite power in his hands. The scent of buckskin would never seem innocent again, would always remind her of Mark.

He took both her arms until they were straight behind her back, rigid. She wore no bra, and her nipples tingled as she arched forward.

Binding her with his belt, he wrapped the leather around her arms from elbow to wrist, until she heard the final clink of him fastening the buckle. Then, she was as he’d wanted her. Bound. His.

Shaking, she waited to see what he’d do next. She heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor, but she dared not turn around to see what he was up to.

Then he was back, his hand resting gently on her head, caressing her. Calming her.

“The first thing I noticed about you was your hair. I had to keep my hands behind my back to keep myself from burying my fingers in it.”

She felt a brush oh-so-gently moving through the strands of her hair. It tingled her scalp and seemed intimate somehow. As he continued to brush her hair she felt her nerves calm down, just a little.

He continued for a moment before taking the boar bristles and lightly skimmed her ribs, down her spine and then her buttocks. The sensation was prickly and should have been unpleasant, but it wasn’t. In fact, the feeling became more lovely by the second as he scraped her ass, one side and then the other, running the brush over the edge of her panties. He increased pressure until the bristles scraped her skin, causing her to inhale sharply. It hurt, and yet the pain only made her more aware of how turned on she was. Her eyes closed, she felt his breath at her ear.

“You’re the one bound, Ruby. But you have all the power here. Don’t forget that.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

He scraped her ass again with the brush. “Such beautiful skin, so pale. It’s going to look even more beautiful after I’m done with you, and you’re going to love it. You’re going to love looking at your skin and knowing I put those marks on your body. Aren’t you, baby?”

She squirmed and he chuckled.

“I was very disappointed earlier when you went against my order for you to take off your panties.”

“I know,” she breathed.

Lean over the chair. Rest your body on the cushion.”

Kneeling, she leaned facedown across the cushion of the overstuffed chair. Her nipples tingled against the fabric. Her arms, bound by Mark’s belt, were stiff behind her.

Now she was utterly exposed, vulnerable. She’d given herself over to him, given him that authority. Why was it so freeing to be so helpless? What was it about Mark that made her want to give him this? Give him everything?

He’ll be gone in the morning.

She pushed the thought away. The fact that he would be leaving just made her more determined to take advantage of every second, to experience this night with him as intensely as possible.

Something dark fell over her eyes, blinding her. She inhaled the now-familiar scent that made her knees weak. Mark’s shirt. He was using his shirt to blindfold her.

“Oh, God.” The sensation was killing her. She couldn’t see; she couldn’t move. She could just smell him, hear him…

“How are you doing, darling Ruby?” he asked.

“Never better.” She tried to sound droll, but her voice trembled, giving her away. “Fuck it. Please, Mark. I need…” She had to feel him. She couldn’t
feel
enough.

“What do you need, Ruby? Tell me.”

“You. I need to feel you. On me, inside me.”

“Oh, but I think you need something else. I think you need a little more sensation than a cock filling you up.”

His graphic language set her sex on fire. He seemed to layer her pleasure, much as he’d layered his music during the show.

He took the bristles again, ran them over her ass and upper back, across the backs of her thighs, until she was trembling again. Until she was raw.

It was never like this before. Being bound by Ash seemed so incomplete in comparison; this was what she’d been craving. Mark had every nerve in her body alive, made every sensation amplified.

Now he used the brush with a heavier touch. She squeezed her eyes shut as he scoured her skin. Her body shook from needing him, needing him to strike her. She could feel her own endorphins kicking in, turning the pain to pleasure, but she wanted more. Wanted something harder.

“You like that, Ruby, don’t you? I can feel you trembling. But you know I’m just preparing you because you know the first slap won’t be gentle.”

Good. She didn’t want it to be. She had no idea how she knew that, but she was very certain that she did not want a gentle hand. She wanted to feel. She wanted to feel
everything
.

With the back of the brush, he struck her with a stunning precision that thrilled her very core. Sharp pain singed the entire right side of her ass. Still, she did not cry out. Instead she begged. “Please—”

“Sshh.”

She bit her lip.

The next slap was harder and hurt. Hurt so much she couldn’t keep her voice inside.

He slapped her again, with more force.

“Fuck!” Her entire body responded in a rush of bittersweet pleasure.

“Do you want more?”

“Oh, God—”

The back of the brush stung her again; the slapping sound resonated in her small apartment, drowning out the soft jazz.

“Ask for more.”

“Please, more—” She screamed, her body twisting, writhing.

He obliged. Beautiful pain ripped through her; her pussy throbbed from it, her mind reeled from it. And each time he struck her ass she inhaled him again, thankful for the shirt he’d used as a blindfold. Her senses were limited to scent and pain and sound, and just when she was going to come from it all, he stopped.

“Please, more…” She was begging. Begging him.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson.” His voice sounded dark and gravelly, hoarse. She rubbed her crotch against the edge of the chair, hoping for even the tiniest bit of friction of release.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He yanked her hips back and tugged down her panties until the elastic stretched just above her knees. The air chilled her wet pussy but then he was there, his warm tongue licking her, exploring every moist inch. She backed into his mouth, pressed against his face. He licked her from clit to anus, again and again, until she was screaming nonsense, screaming his name. And when he shoved his fingers deep inside her she came in a hard rush that left her shattered.

She didn’t remember him unbinding her or lifting her, but then she was in his arms, cradled against his chest as he dropped into the chair. He gently untied the blindfold and her gaze fell on his exposed skin.

It seemed strange that this was the first time she’d seen him undressed, and she drank him in. He had little body hair to detract from his lithe frame. When her eyes fell on his nipple rings her sex gave a little throb. She wanted to lean down and take one into her mouth. How hard would he like her to tug? He knew so much about her, yet he still remained a mystery to her.

And it was already early morning. So little time remained to explore this man, Mark St. Crow.

Sitting in the chair, he held her in his lap, nuzzling her hair, her ear, her neck. Held her with such tenderness it melted her insides. She loved the way he could dominate her and nurture her in the same moment. He kissed her eyes, licked away the tears her release had brought forth.

Taking her arms in his hands, he massaged her wrists. “Been a while, baby?”

She nodded. “Yes. Since…” She glanced at the portrait on the wall.

“He broke your heart, then?”

“No. He just couldn’t give me what I needed.”

“And I can.” It wasn’t a question; the fact that she was still quivering inside from her orgasm was all the answer she needed.

Mark reached down to pull her panties over her knees and her heels. He threw them next to her dress. “Why me?” His brown eyes searched hers.

“I liked you. I trusted you.” She smiled. “And I’m insane, obviously.”

“I’m glad I met you tonight, Ruby.” His fingers skimmed a lazy circle around her nipple until she felt the tip harden under his touch. And then, a stirring between her legs.

Her ass still stung from earlier, and she couldn’t wait to see the marks on her skin. What was that about, anyway? It seemed so wrong, and yet there it was.

She began to suspect this was a huge mistake, this little tryst with Mark. This feeling, this afterglow, could be addicting.

“Do you ever stop thinking?”

She met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I can see it in your eyes, the little gears churning.”

“It’s just that I never—”

“Do things like this. I know.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “But I’m so glad you did.”

Through his jeans she could feel his erection pressing against the side of her hip. He’d taken off his glasses and now he slid them back on. She reached up and gently traced the frame. “Can you see without them?”

“Barely.”

“I think they’re sexy.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded.