Bound to the Bad Boy (5 page)

“Let’s try again.”

Oh please.

She assumed the position, locking
her knees to still their trembling. Matt waited. She breathed slowly, counting
her breaths, trying to calm herself. She had to center. Focus. That was part of
being a good sub.

When his touch arrived again
between her legs, it was all the sweeter for the interlude. He fucked her with
his fingers, using his thumb again to rub her clit. She closed her eyes and
lifted her breasts towards him, carried upon a rising wave of lust.

“What do you want, sub?”

She peered at him from under her
half-closed lids. What did she want? She wanted him to fuck her harder. To
plunge his fingers into her repeatedly until she exploded onto them, four years
of pent up longing for this man finally released.

But that would be the wrong
answer.

That would earn her nothing but
the disappointment of frustration.

“I want…whatever makes you happy,
Master.”

“Good.” He increased his
movements. “Good sub.”

Megan began to rise higher still on
the pleasure wave. Matt knew her body so well. He was like a skilled and
experienced musician playing his favorite instrument. With other men, she had
often struggled to orgasm. Either their inept touch, or their selfish pursuit
of pleasure, had left her wanting, but with Matt it had never been that way.

Matt had always put her first.
Every touch, every kiss, every pinch, every smack…all of it, he did with her in
mind. He only allowed himself to take his own pleasure when he had fully
satisfied her. And sometimes he didn’t come at all. He had a powerful need to
be in control at all times. And it made her feel so safe, so wanted, and so warm.

“Master!”
Megan gasped as her pussy contracted around his fingers and she neared her
peak.
Stood in the hallway of his beautiful, new home.
In nothing but her heels.
After four years of
separation. She was a slut.
Fucking his hand.
And it
was
so
good.

“Do you want to come, sub?”

“Yes…I mean…if you want me to.”
She shuddered with the effort of trying to hold her climax at bay.

He stopped moving but kept his large
fingers inside her. She pulsed around them, her juices soaking them even though
she had not fully peaked.

“Well, I want you to come…but not
yet.”

Megan swallowed a sigh as he
removed his fingers then stepped away from her. He lifted his hand to the
fading evening light that shone through the glass panels in the front door.

“Your sweet
cunt cream, Megan.”

She stared at him.
Dark.
Gorgeous.
Dangerous.
Deadly.
Amazing.
Erotic.

Everything.

He opened his mouth and sucked
his fingers noisily, hungrily.

“I love your flavor, sub. You’re
delicious and I can’t wait to eat you out and drink your juices as you come all
over my face.”

Megan flushed with delight. He
always spoke so bluntly about sex but she loved it. There was no awkwardness.
No shyness. He knew what he wanted and he took it.
Within her
limits.
Which were quite
wide.
With Matt anyhow.
He knew how to push her boundaries, how to
get her to open up to the possibilities for pleasure.
Without
the hindrance of guilt or inhibitions.

He is like no other man. And he
was
mine.

She lowered her breasts, battling
her urge to give her nipples a quick squeeze. She knew that if she did, it
would just move her closer to the orgasm that hovered in her pussy, aching to
be released. She wanted to come. But she knew if she held on, Matt would make
it worth the wait.

Just like waiting four years to
see him again was turning out to be worth waiting for.

“Now, sub, would you like to see
the rest of the house?”

Megan nodded.
“If
you would like to show me, Master.”

“I have a few surprises here for
you too, which I’m sure you’ll like. You remember that club we used to attend?”

“Yes.
Club
Castille.”
Of course she remembered. They had gone there more than once
and it had been thrilling, terrifying, and incredible.

“Well I used their décor as
inspiration for one of the rooms when I built this place. It’s entirely devoted
to The Scene. What do you think about that?”

“It sounds amazing.”

“Oh it is.” He wrapped an arm
around her shoulders. “Let me show you.”

As he guided her through the
hallway towards the back of the house, Megan savored the warmth of his hand and
the proximity of his strong, toned body. More than anything right now, she
wanted him to lift her into his arms and wrap her legs around his waist. She
wanted him to kiss her full on the mouth and to explore her with his tongue.
Then she wanted his big, hard cock inside her, stretching her and filling her
until her eyes watered and her body was wracked with the sweet, intense orgasms
that she knew he could give. He could fuck her against the wall, on the deep
steps of the staircase, or even on the cool, hard wooden floorboards.
Anywhere.

Just fuck me.

But that would come.

If she waited.

And in the meantime, she would
enjoy whatever attention he was prepared to lavish upon her.

Chapter Three

Megan admired the open plan layout
of the ground floor of Matt’s house. To the right of the hallway was a spacious
and light-filled lounge, with a large black leather couch and comfy, reclining chair.
The huge window looked out on the front yard and the long driveway, shaded
either side by tall, ancient trees.
On the wall above an open
fireplace hung a huge TV with surround speakers.

“I don’t really get the time to
watch much on it,” Matt explained, “but when I do it’s as good as the cinema.”

Megan smiled, picturing snuggling
up to him on the comfy sofa in the evenings. Despite their d/s roles, they had
experienced all of the regular aspects of a relationship too. But without the
nagging doubts and insecurities that came with most relationships. They knew
what they had, what they wanted from each other and it worked for them.

Had worked.

But when she’d gone off to
college, she’d seen a different type of life and believed that she needed to be
free of Matt. She had even wondered if what they’d had together was in some way
abnormal.
Unusual.
She had questioned the very
foundations of their love and that in turn had caused it to crumble. She
swallowed her tears.
Blinked away her grief.
It would
not do to dwell on the past right now.

Let it go.

I don’t think I can.

Matt placed his hand in the small
of her back and guided her through the lounge area and around to what appeared
to be a music room. His prize guitars were displayed on stands, including his
battered old acoustic. The one he had played to serenade her when they were
just teenagers. He had played songs by the Eagles, the Beatles and Guns ‘N’ Roses
and Megan had fallen in love with his easy charm, his confidence, and his
talent.

French doors led out onto a
wooden deck and a large expanse of lawn. Beyond that, Megan could make out the
fast flowing river that ran the length of the small town like an ever-present
life force, a reminder that life moved on and took you with it if you let it.

“It’s beautiful. Really
beautiful,” she whispered then turned to look at Matt. His profile took her
breath away. From his dark hair and eyebrows to his sun kissed skin, he was
even more gorgeous than she remembered. Getting older had matured him like a
fine wine. At twenty-seven, adult masculinity now replaced what had once been
the sharp beauty and softness of teenage youth. His chest was now so wide, and his
shoulders, so muscular. She was overwhelmed by the urge to be wrapped in his
arms once again.

To feel safe, reassured, certain
of what life would bring and of
who
she was. With
Matt, she had been clear about herself. Away from Matt, she had floundered in
the uncertainty of life and society, never quite sure what people wanted or
expected of her. It was extremely lonely. Just like her childhood had been. Yet
she had blundered on, determined to find a life for herself without the
handsome biker at her side.

And for what?
Because she was a coward.
Because
she thought that it would be better to be alone than to be an old lady to a
vice chairman.

“Come.” He reached for her hand
and led her deeper into the house.

They walked beneath the staircase
and through to a large dining room, equipped with a gothic style mahogany table
that would seat twenty people with ease.

“You entertain much, Master?”

He grinned then shook his head.
“Created the perfect house, but it needs the right woman to make it
a home.”
The intensity of his gaze startled her and she looked away. Was
she the right woman?
Should she be here, living this life and
entertaining their friends and family with him?
At his
side?
His charter, their old ladies and their children?
A smile played on her lips. The evenings they could have together, wrapped up
in that bubble of warmth and safety that belonging to a motorcycle club had
offered.

The fun.
The laughter.
The love.

Grief hovered like a rain cloud.

She
had given it all up. Could she ever win it back? And did she
want to? Could she be the Megan she once was or did life just keep on moving,
pushing you from one event to the next, sometimes drowning you in its swell,
preventing you from taking a much needed
breath
or
from gathering your thoughts?

When she had given Matt up, she
had thought it was for the best. But she wondered now if she had been thinking
straight. At the time, she’d believed that her head was clearer than it had
ever been. That time and space away from her sweetheart had given her freedom
to carve out a normal life.
Whatever normal was.
Perhaps it was her unconventional childhood that had led her to yearn for what
other people seemed to have.
Plain.
Boring.
Regular.
Nine to five.
So she
had tossed Matt aside like a pair of old boots, never intending on seeing him
again. She knew she would weaken in his presence.
And so she
had stayed away, hoping that not seeing him or hearing his voice would make
leaving him easier.
Hoping in vain.

Just off the dining room was the
biggest kitchen she had ever seen. Shiny black surfaces reflected her naked
body everywhere she looked and her footsteps echoed as she walked across the
red tiled floor. At the center was a large island equipped with knife blocks,
olive wood chopping boards and a double stainless steel sink with taps.

Matt had thought of everything.
The downstairs was perfect.
Spotless.
But empty.

It was waiting for a couple.
A family.
A life to be lived within its
walls.

She thought of Matt rattling
around here all alone and her heart swelled with remembered affection. Though
he had always been her protector, her strength, her world, she had been
important to him. She knew that. She had tried to push it away, to sweep the
memories of it out of her heart as she tried to divorce herself from her
feelings for him but being here, being so close to him in the beautiful home
that he had created, now brought it all to the surface once more.

Matt had needed her as she had
needed him.

And she had abandoned him.
But for what?

“One more thing.”
Matt gestured at a door at the far end of the kitchen. “Before we go upstairs,
I want to show you what else I made.”

She followed him through the
door.

****

Matt led Megan through a short
corridor then he stood back to allow her to walk into the room before him. The
room he had built and filled with her in mind.

He hoped that it wasn’t too much
for her. He was torn between wanting to see her reaction, to know if she still
wanted to play and fearing that she might be frightened away, never to return.

But he had to know. Theirs had
never been a vanilla relationship. It had progressed from active and vigorous
intercourse to some light bondage and spankings then into a fully-fledged d/s
affair during the first year of their relationship. Their tastes and enthusiasm
had matched and whilst, as Dom, he had been the instigator in many ways, Megan
had never held back. She was always keen to explore further.
To
be more.
To blossom under his tutelage.

Much of it had been natural to
him, and some of it had emerged from his reading and some from his own early
trips to the clubs where BDSM practices were celebrated. He had scened with
others, both male and female, and found early on that he preferred to be the Dominant
and that he preferred to be with a female sub. It was part of his make-up, part
of his DNA to be in charge.
In control.
He was proud
and strong as an alpha of a wolf pack. As Vice President of the Cherub Chapter
of the Night Warriors, it was essential to be a strong leader. And he was.
A leader of men.
A leader in the bedroom.
A leader in the dungeon.

Megan had been a perfect student,
a perfect sub. That was why her transformation when she had gone to college had
come as such a shock.
Even though it had not happened
overnight.
During her home visits to Cherub, she had been as keen as
always to indulge in their d/s activities.
At first.
But her visits had become less frequent. Her enthusiasm for submission had
dwindled. He had seen the devotion seep from her eyes like a dying flame.