Fighting Fair (3 page)

His eyes glinted in the shadowy darkness. “All these threats remind me of better ways to put that mouth to good use.”

She never found him again. The master strategist wordlessly yanked her from a succession of hiding places. In less than half an hour all she wore were her panties as she huddled behind the dining room drapes, shivering from the cool air and the erotic combination of fear and lust twining along her nerves. The drapes masked the watch’s warning beep so she felt sure two minutes had passed, but when Shane pulled back the curtains, startling her just as the beeping started on the watch in his hand, she knew what had taken him so long to find her.

A length of dark blue silk rope dangled from his hand.

Chapter Four

With a grip on her upper arm that wasn’t quite gentle, Shane yanked her from behind the curtain and bent her over the dining room table. Caught off guard, Natalie put out both hands to brace her fall, then gasped as he stepped into her bottom, trapping her against the table. He grabbed her right hand and slipped a loop of the midnight blue silk rope over her wrist, tightened it, then put a hand between her shoulder blades to keep her bent forward as he reached for her left wrist. In seconds both hands were secured behind her back. He’d left a length of rope between the ties around her wrists, easing the strain on her shoulders. They’d engaged in enough restraint play in the past for her to know she could handle silk rope longer than handcuffs biting into her wrists.

This didn’t bode well for her.

Ominously silent, Shane marched her upstairs, not bothering to hide his interest in the way her breasts bounced as she hurried. Her nipples were erect from cold and arousal, and heat stained her cheeks because when her husband went quiet, the whole game changed.

In the bedroom they stopped in front of the chaise. A play of light and shadows danced across his face as he added two thick logs to the fire then brushed his hands against his jeans and considered her, top to toe and back up again. She knew better than to tug on the rope. Shane learned knot-tying on his father’s sailboat. She wasn’t going anywhere in the immediate future.

His breathing was even as he came to stand behind her and rest his chin on her shoulder. The five o’clock shadow prickled her skin but it was the rope around her wrists, his breath wafting over her breasts as he looked down her body and slid his fingers into the white silk fabric stretched across her hipbones that made her bite her lip and shimmy.

“You lose,” he said matter-of-factly. He skated his palms down her hips to her thighs and her panties dropped to the floor.

The fire warmed her front body while his skin warmed her back. Her nipples tightened under his gaze, but the pleasurable consequences of losing didn’t change the emotion roiling inside her. She bit her lip again, this time to hold back the words she was supposed to say.

After a long moment passed, he prompted her. “Now you ask me what I want, Natalie.”

“No.”

His hands slid back up over the swell of her belly to her breasts, where he cupped the soft flesh, then pinched her nipples, soft, teasing pressure and tugs until she undulated in his arms. “Ask me what I want,” he repeated.

She shook her head. Her hair tumbled into her eyes, adding more shadows to her vision. Shadows upon shadows, the scent of Shane in her nostrils, blood pounding in her ears and between her legs. She couldn’t think.

He lifted his hand and tucked it behind her ear, then traced a finger along her lower lip. “Not going to cooperate?” he murmured. “I’ll take some time to remember my options, then.”

Before she could respond he wrapped an arm around her waist and sat down in the middle the chaise, pulling her face-down on his lap. Facing the fire lengthwise on the chaise, she struggled against this new level of helplessness.

“What are you doing?” she yelped. “This isn’t how we played this game!”

“Natalie, as a student of history surely you remember that the winners made the rules,” he said easily, then urged her legs apart so one foot rested on the chaise’s curved back while the other hung over the side. He ran his palm up the back of her thigh and squeezed her buttock, then did the same thing on the other side. When he repeated the motion he landed a sharp smack on the fullness of each inner cheek. A firm massage to the now stinging curve of her ass, then another smack, sharper and harder than the first.

“Shane! You’re not playing fair!”

“No,” he said, his caressing fingers brushing her sex before he smacked her ass again. “I’m not playing fair. I’m fighting fair.”

They’d had this discussion numerous times. There was no fair in a fight. All was fair in business, war, love. A tumult of emotions swirled in her throat only to evaporate when Shane gripped the rope binding her hands, braced his right elbow at the small of her back to keep her steady on his lap, and landed a heavy volley of cracking smacks on her bottom punctuated by a recital of his options.

Blow job.
Smack!

Bent over the chaise while he fucked her.
Smack!

Massaging oil into her breasts then thrusting
smack!
into the slick, hot channel until he came.

Smack!

The list of options and the firm, teasing blows struck sparks in her pussy, and the resulting heat had her squirming against his erection, thick and straining against his button fly. She muffled her soft cries in the sage and gold damask fabric covering the chaise, and closed her eyes as shocking, unexpected heat built between her thighs.

“Ask me what I want, Natalie.”

The words cracked through the sensual haze in her brain, and her response was automatic, breathless. “What do you want?”

“The blow job. Definitely. First.”

His hand returned to massaging her stinging flesh, the touch now possessive, knowing. A shuddering breath eased out of her as the looming orgasm faded away. He pushed her to her knees on the floor. The movement tumbled her hair into her face. Firelight gilded the blond hair on his chest and abdomen as he bent forward to tuck the dark brown strands behind her ears. The gentle touch set her radar tingling. He reached into the corner of the chaise and removed her black sleep mask. Her heart pounded as she leaned away from him, but he didn’t chase her, simply crooked a preemptory finger at her.

The fire crackled at her back as she looked up into his face. The heat, the ever-present heat between them felt so familiar, so reassuring, and yet underneath simmered the fight she hadn’t forgotten, and an unusual dynamic. She wanted this, and yet she didn’t want it, or maybe that shifting emotion was that she wanted him to make her do it. He could, and he would.

That was, after all, a form of attention.

He reached out, slid his hand along her cheekbone and into her hair to pull her forward for the mask. As her vision disappeared her other senses heightened, bringing sensation into sharp relief. The ache in her buttocks throbbing in time to the sharp pulses in her pussy. Her nipples, hard little tips in the cooler air between her body and Shane’s. The silk twined around her wrists, the tassels dangling from the ends of the rope, brushing against her abused bottom and sending little tingles through her nerves.

With her vision gone the sheer animal attraction between her and Shane sharpened into stark relief. Buried under the daily obligations of work, home, and family, that chemistry was still there. A moment passed as his thumb stroked her full lips, then she surrendered to heat and shadows in her mind.

The top button of his jeans popped open. The rest of the button fly followed and cotton shifted against skin, releasing the scent of Shane’s arousal—sweat and the musk of his skin, unique to him. Another sound she decided was denim against damask as he moved forward, closer to her. Then he took a handful of her hair and began to brush the thick, soft ends against her face.

Tingles spread as he caressed her cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose, then her mouth. Her lips parted slightly and her tongue flicked out, chasing the stimulus but his mouth was there, soft and hot and open. His tongue caressed hers while his hand gripped her hair. Sparks skittered into the pit of her belly, and she whimpered. The sound cut off when he kissed her again, hard and deep.

Yes, oh yes.

Her high, shallow breaths danced with his deeper inhales as he gathered all her hair and draped it over one shoulder. Heat throbbed between her legs when he palmed her nape and brought her head forward. The tip of his cock bumped her parted lips. “Lick,” he said.

She did, one soft sweep over the tip, and the salty taste of pre-come spread over her tongue. She stopped, waited for the next command. If he wanted to tie her up and give orders, she’d make him tell her to do every single thing.

A rough little laugh rumbled from his chest. “Open up, sweetheart,” he said.

She did, letting his cock fill her mouth until the tip nudged the back of her throat and her lips rested against his fingers, fisted at the base of his shaft. She paused, swallowed, and the hand at her nape turned a little to grip her hair and pull. Her imagination supplied the jump in his abdominal muscles.

“Up. Slow. A little suction at the tip, like that, and back down again,” he said, exerting just enough pressure to make her feel forced. “Up...good,” he praised, as if she hadn’t done this hundreds of times, as if she didn’t know exactly how to make him beg. “Back down. All the way. Yeah, that’s nice. So slick. Up again...now do it until I tell you to stop.”

His cock was a steel shaft encased in thin, hot skin, hard against her lips and tongue as she obediently took his cock to the back of her throat again and again. Saliva slicked his shaft, eased the motion, collected at his gripping fingers, and the mental image of him, cock in hand, her head bent over his lap, sent sharp electric heat flashing to her pussy. She moaned a little, shifted her hips to get some friction on her clit.

“Keep your legs spread,” he said sternly, his hand keeping her head in rhythm. “Do a good job and maybe I’ll make you come.”

When she disobeyed he waited until he nudged the back of her throat, then halted her movements. With a whimper she shifted and spread her legs. The feedback loop running between them kicked into high gear. He gave a lazy, satisfied grunt, then lifted into her mouth. “Keep going.”

It didn’t take long. Deprivation and a heated, dark scene combined to draw cords of erotic arousal tight around them. He held out as long as he could but eventually his hips thrust up into her mouth as he tightened his grip on her nape and went rigid. Semen jetted to the back of her throat and she swallowed once, twice, then a third time before he relaxed with a groan.

When his hand slipped from her nape she sat back on her heels and undulated with the desire surging in her veins. The movement brought her wrists up sharp against the restraining rope and she moaned at the torture of being unable to free her hands to pinch her nipples or rub her clit, much less see his face. A rough chuckle, then he swiped his thumb across her mouth.

“Shane,” she whispered, but his thumb pressed into her swollen lips.

“Don’t talk. Listen.”

Chapter Five

Natalie was aroused as hell but Shane didn’t mistake lust for forgiveness. No, the gain here was in the heated currents under the ice, melting her from the inside out, but a thaw was the most dangerous time to be on thin ice. It was easy to go too far, too fast, and plummet into murky depths. Keep focused. Forward momentum. Remember the end goal.

Remember that ninety percent of communication is unspoken.

He guided Natalie onto her back on the chaise and shoved the mask up and off. He’d left enough give in the rope for her to turn her wrists so the backs of her hands pressed into the chaise. The fact that her bound hands elevated her hips and offered her pussy to him was just a nice bonus. She pressed her legs together as she stared up at him mutinously, but he wasn’t after the slick heat between her legs. Instead he straddled her waist, keeping his weight on his knees to avoid hurting her hands, and reached behind the cushion to retrieve a pair of nipple clamps.

“You were busy before I came upstairs,” she said, but he didn’t miss the shiver that skittered over her skin when he dropped them on her stomach. He didn’t respond, just cupped one breast in his palm. Her nipple hardened before his eyes but he massaged the soft flesh, bent and licked the tip, then blew on it gently before compressing the reddened tip between the vinyl-coated ends of the clamp. He adjusted the tension until she bit her lower lip and arched her back. Perfect. Just past staying on but not to the point of pain.

The chain between the two clamps slithered across her breastbone as he repeated the process on her other nipple. Natalie’s mouth opened on a soft whimper and her eyes dropped closed. He flicked his tongue over each swollen tip then nuzzled his way up to her collarbone, nudging the chain upwards with his tongue. He took it between his teeth, kissed his way up her throat to her chin, then her lips.

They were soft, hot, and open, allowing nearly inaudible pants to escape. He let the chain slip from his mouth into hers. “Hold this for me,” he commanded.

The chain came to rest at the corners of her parted lips. “What?” she said.

Forming the word tugged gently at her clamped nipples. She moaned and writhed under him, her whole body tensing beautifully around this new restraint. He kissed his way back down her arched neck, surveyed his handiwork, then stroked the soft undercurves of her breasts. “Are you listening, sweetheart?”

The garbled words were almost unintelligible as she tried not to torment her tender breasts, but he was pretty sure she’d gasped
You bastard!
as she squirmed under him again. To emphasize her resistance she crossed her legs, but he just smiled as he straddled her hips. Firelight danced across the curve of her breasts, undulating into the dip at her waist, then her soft thighs, tightly clamped together. He started with her breasts, gently squeezing the soft flesh, massaging sensation into the tips. A few not-quite-gentle pats to the soft fullness made her moan, shudder, and go limp. The trick was to make her want the heat, to dissolve her from the inside out. He kissed every quivering inch of her breasts, scraped his five o’clock shadow along the undersides, flicked his tongue around the clamps...and felt her thighs press against his knees briefly before she pressed her legs together again.

Natalie put up a good fight. Italian to the bone, she brought her best game to everything in life—work, their marriage, sex—and she’d brought her best game to fighting the heat between them. It was a fight she couldn’t win. At the first sign of weakness in her defenses he left her well-tended breasts and kissed his way down her torso to her belly button, then to her clasped thighs. Reaching under her body he withdrew the trailing end of the rope and began to draw the tassel along the seam between her legs.

Her wordless whimper marked the edge of surrender, the long muscles in her thighs trembling with each stroke of the tassel. He wasn’t fighting to beat her at a game. He was playing for their marriage and their future together, and he wasn’t going to lose.

Stroking the ends of the tassels against the tiny inverted triangle at the juncture of her thighs proved most devastating. Tightly held muscles shuddered, then eased open slightly. He took advantage, dipping his tongue into the very top of her pussy, tasting wet heat before she closed up again. With a grin he went back to teasing her, stroking the tassel to its furthest reach along her thighs, following its path with his tongue, then beginning again.

She held out longer than he thought she would, a clear sign of her inner turmoil. In earlier days this game would have turned mutual long before now, but the fire heated his right side almost uncomfortably and sweat gleamed on her torso before she subsided into surrender and opened her legs to him. He dropped the tassel and wedged his shoulders between her thighs, then curved one hand under her leg and over her stomach to the top of her sex. With his thumb and index finger he spread the glistening folds covered with delicately trimmed dark curls.

Her legs tightened against his shoulders, as if she didn’t want him to see what he did to her. Recrimination and possessiveness washed through him. She’d surrendered to him more reluctantly than she ever had because she no longer trusted him to take care of her. All she asked for was his attention. It was the bare minimum for a marriage to succeed, not to mention the lifetime love he’d pledged to her.

It wasn’t too much to ask. For now, his actions would speak for him.

One slick stroke of his tongue along her clit, another, and her hands twisted from flat under her ass to braced fists, lifting her pussy to his mouth, and this time he didn’t tease her. He focused all his attention on her wet, open body, used rhythmic, layering strokes to build the pleasure until her gasps turned to moans.

“God, Shane,” she gasped as she arched and writhed. He glanced up and saw the chain attached to her nipples pull taut but based on her moans the line between pleasure and pain had shifted some time in the last few minutes.

“I know what you like,” he murmured against her swelling clit. “You want me to fuck you, but not yet. Come first. You’ll be tight and juicy and extra sensitive when I fuck you. Think about how good it’s going to feel when I do slide inside.”

She wasn’t the only one suffering. From the moment she walked up to him after class nine years ago he’d been in the grips of long, slow tease. While the first time in the hotel had forged a connection beyond sex, the ache never truly went away. Never. Emotion swelled in his chest, prickled behind his eyes. He couldn’t lose this fight.

Her helpless, throaty moan and the tightly strained muscles told him she was riding the edge. He increased the pressure of his tongue against her clit and with a low cry her body shuddered into release. Her hips bucked before he flattened his palm against her mound and held her as wave after orgasmic wave rolled through her body. When she subsided he reached under her and loosened the ties binding her wrists together then stretched out beside her.

He expected her to immediately remove the clips stimulating her nipples, or at least pull the chain from her mouth. Instead she opened her eyes and looked into his, an uncharacteristic vulnerability chafing against the edge of anger and pain he’d seen for so long.

Ice was thinnest close to shore, to safety. He could continue the game, or he could surrender to her.

No contest.

After a long moment he bent his head and kissed her. The chain, still in her mouth, rolled between his tongue and hers before he captured it in his teeth and drew it down to lie against her collarbone. Removing each clamp made her quiver as blood flowed back into the sensitive tips. He licked one nipple, then the other, reminding her body it could do more, take more, until her hands gripped his hair and pulled his mouth up to hers.

Exultant, he kissed her until she was breathless then pushed away to shuck his jeans. The fire had died down to glowing embers waiting to be fanned back to life. Positioning himself over her, he knelt between her spread thighs, braced his feet against the sloped back of the chaise and tucked his elbows above her shoulders. Her feet rested on the floor on their side of the chaise until he aligned his cock with her soft entrance.