Hardline (2 page)

  
“You’re late.”
 

  
I spun to find him at the bar on the other side of the room. He was shirtless, barefoot, and held a half empty tumbler in his hand. His face was void of emotion yet somehow filled with an intensity that had me immediately on edge. His green eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. His jaw was tight, loosening only briefly to take a drink.
 

  
“I’m sorry. I got a call—”

  
“Come here.”
 

  
I let my next words fizzle out unspoken. We weren’t going to be discussing Elliot’s unexpected call, at least not right now. Something was off about the way he looked at me, the unforgiving edge in his voice as he uttered those two little words.
 

  
I walked slowly toward him until we were inches apart and the heat radiated between us. Blake was undeniably gorgeous, male beauty perfected. Tall and lean, his body had my brain regularly short-circuiting. This was no exception. I touched his chest, unable to resist in our proximity. The muscles flinched in response.

  
“Take your shirt off,” he said.
 

  
I searched his eyes a moment but found no humor there. He stood before me like a statue, a beautifully carved work of art, cold and unmoving. I feathered my fingers over his abs, trailing them to the band of his jeans slung low on his hips.
 

  
“You okay?” I murmured. I’d seen him like this before. He didn’t need to tell me, because I already knew something or someone had gotten under his skin today.
 

  
He winced, a nearly imperceptible response. “I’ll be better in a minute.”
 

  
Knowing what could get him there, I pulled off my blouse and let it drop to the floor.

  
“Better?” I cocked my head, hoping to draw out the playful lover in him.

  
His eyes were unchanged, steely as ever. “Don’t make me wait again, Erica.”
 

  
His voice was dangerously low. I held my breath, trying in vain to harness control over my own body’s reactions to him. That potent mix of desire and anticipation welled up inside of me. The details of the day blurred into the background, secondary to the here and now and the domineering man who was moments from fucking away his release and using my body so very well to do it.
 

  
I lowered my hand to the hard outline of his erection and stroked him through the soft worn fabric of his jeans. “I’m here now. Let me make it up to you.”
 
He caught my wrist. “You will, trust me.”
 

  
I looked up through my eyelashes. He released me and brought his hand to my chest. He traced the lace hem of my bra and the skin beneath. The simple contact warmed me. He pushed the cup of the bra down roughly, palmed my freed breast, and thumbed my nipple. I leaned into the slow circular motions as a flicker of desire took root in my belly.
 

  
I moaned, and he pinched tightly. I sucked in a breath through my teeth but didn’t push him away. His lip turned up at the corner and a flash of terrible mischief passed over his eyes.
 

  
“Undress and bend over the table.”

  
Playful had arrived, but so had someone else.

  
I frowned in the direction of the dining area and the large wooden farmhouse table at the center of it. Before I could argue, he swatted my ass and gave me a gentle shove in that direction. I moved quickly and removed my skirt, bra, and panties. I faced the table, resting my hands on the warm textured wood. On the center of the table, lengths of rope were curled into a pile.
 

  
“Down,” he said in a clipped tone.
 

  
He placed his hand between my shoulder blades and pressured me lower. I slid my hands out in front of me, exhaling sharply as the front of my body touched the cool table, the tops of my thighs pressed firmly against the edge. The anticipation held me hostage, robbed me of the ability to make sense of anything but the surety that Blake was taking control now.
 

  
And I’d given him that.
 

  
As soon as I’d walked out of my normal working life and into the apartment we now shared, I went to war with damn near every instinct I had. I handed over all control to the man I loved, trusting that he’d take care of us both. He always did, but sometimes I couldn’t resist the urge to push back just a bit, so he knew I was still there, fighting.
 

  
He ran a cool hand over my ass. I tensed in response to the simple touch. I bit my lip, steadying myself for what always came next.
 

  
“You were twenty minutes late. Do you know what that means?”

  
Before I could speak, his hand made sharp contact with my ass. I whimpered at the sharp pain. Then the sting melted, setting off a fiery heat through my body. I arched, pushing back against him.
 

  
“Are you going to punish me?” I asked quietly.
 

  
“Is that what you want?”

  
“Yes.” The meekness of my responses still surprised me, considering how far we’d gone and how much I loved those dark places we found in each other. Admitting how much I loved it still took a certain amount of courage.
 

  
“Lucky for you. You’re going to get twenty lashes. I want you to count. Don’t forget, or I’ll get the belt.”

  
Without delay he slapped my ass again, hard enough to echo through the room. The second I caught my breath, I rushed to speak.
 

  
“One.”
 

  
“That’s it.” He delivered another.
 

  
“Two.”

  
With every punishing swat, I tightened and grew wetter, a circumstance I still couldn’t quite grasp. But getting spanked drove me fucking crazy. By the time we were in double digits I was clawing at the table, more than ready for the pleasure that came after the delicious pain.
 

  
Twenty.

  
I sighed and rested against the table. The relief was short-lived as Blake caught my ponytail and coaxed me up to stand.
 

  
“Up.”

  
I straightened, and he spun me. He dropped his jaw, as if to speak, but instead he pulled our bodies together. His skin scorched under mine, and suddenly I wanted him even more. He sealed his lips over mine with a hard kiss. The aroma of scotch mingled with the musk of him. I opened my lips to him, inviting him, wanting his taste on my tongue. He yanked my ponytail gently, breaking the contact.
   

  
“You’re too greedy.”

  
I pouted.
 

  
“You’re spoiled, and you don’t listen.”

  
“I listen,” I insisted.
 

  
“You may listen, but you don’t obey worth a damn. Playtime is over. You need to learn, and tonight I’m going to teach you.”
 

  
I fought the fear that coiled in my gut. Fear of the unknown. “I’m sorry.”
 

  
“That’s a good start. Get on the table.”
 

  
I hesitated a second and then quickly lifted myself onto the edge. He shook his head and scooted me back.
 

  
“In the middle. Hurry up.”
 

  
I lifted my eyebrows, but rather than question him, I shimmied to the middle. As I did, he circled the table and retrieved the rope from my path.
 

  
“Lie down.”
 

  
I obeyed, and he caught my wrist, extending my arm to reach the corner of the table. With shocking speed and dexterity, he bound my arms to the legs of the table. As he moved to my ankles, I pulled against the rope, testing its security. No give.
 

  
He bound one leg, and then the other, until I was spread eagle on the table.
 

  
“That’s better.” He gave my calf a small squeeze.
 

   
My skin heated all the way to my cheeks as the extent of my vulnerability sank in. I wanted to tell him this was too much. The words were on the edge of my lips, but I was already wet and needy for him, for whatever he was cooking up in that devious mind of his. Adding to my growing unease, Blake moved away until he was out of my range of vision.
 

  
“Where are you going?” I tried to hide the anxiety in my voice.

  
“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving. Not when you’re spread out for me like a fucking banquet.”

  
I heard ice hitting the inside of a glass and then the quiet guzzle of it being filled. He returned and stood before me, bringing the glass to his lips, obscuring the ghost of a grin on his beautiful face. Something in his expression promised I was in for a slow torture. The need that pulsed through me doubled. I was entirely at his mercy now.

  
Seconds that felt like minutes passed. My breasts heaved in time to my breathing, which ticked up as I waited. For what? I had no idea, but the possibilities thrilled me.
 

  
He lifted the glass once more, drained its contents, and dropped the tumbler loudly onto the table between my legs. He dipped his hand into the glass, and the clink of the ice was followed by the silent shock of the cold on my skin. He traced a slow wet path down the inside of my leg, along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I shivered, tensing, as he traveled over my hips to my belly. The cube melted slowly at my navel while he reached for another.
 

  
He rounded the table, coming to my side. With the next cube, he circled my nipples, lingering on each. On the brink of pain, I suppressed my protest. I couldn’t risk more punishment if it delayed him being inside me. He lowered his lips, replacing the numbing cool of the ice with the wet heat of his mouth. His teeth clipped the hardened points while a cool hand found its mark between my thighs.
 

  
He hummed, sliding easily through my folds, teasing my clit. “You like when I tie you up, baby?”

  
I licked my dry lips, nodding quickly. Did I? I wasn’t sure. All I really knew was that I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want to say anything to keep him from giving me the pleasure that only he could. He kept me right on the edge, a state so heightened and helpless that it bordered on unbearable. I tugged against the restraints, the rope biting into my skin.
 

  
“Stop fighting, Erica.”

  
He straightened, depriving me of his touch and his closeness.
 

  
“I thought you were in a hurry,” I complained, trying to get a grip on the desire that burned through me a little more fiercely with each passing minute. Goddamn him and this rope.

  
He grinned. “I was, but the thought of punishing you tempered that sense of urgency. Now I’m just enjoying myself.”

  
I closed my eyes. My chest expanded with a deep breath, and I willed myself to relax. As I did, I felt a shock of cold between my legs.
 

  
I cried out, from surprise and the sensation that I wasn’t convinced yet was discomfort. My clit was throbbing against the ice as he maneuvered over the nub, between my folds. I released a breath as he lowered it away from my most sensitive parts and dipped the tip gently into my pussy. When I thought he might relieve me, the hint of a touch gave way to the ice. How long could he do this to me and keep his own desires in check? How long could
I
do this? I was ready to burst and scream.

  
“Blake, I can’t...I can’t do this anymore. You’re killing me.”
 

  
“How does it feel to wait...to want?”

  
I clamped my jaw tight, trying to distract myself from the terrible ache between my thighs. I squirmed despite myself, knowing it wouldn’t bring him any closer to fucking me.
 

  
“I hate it.”
 

  
“Should we end it?”

  
“Yes,” I said, the desperation plain in my voice.

  
He leaned closer, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my neck. He traced the curve of my ear with his tongue, a slow torture all its own.
 

  
“Beg.”
 

  
Chills broke out over my skin. I arched my chest into the air, into nothing because he was barely touching me now.
 

  
“Tell me how much you want it. I need the words.”
 

  
“Blake...please, just fuck me.”
 

  
“That sounds like an order. I want begging.”
 

  
I groaned and he pulled away, no longer touching me anywhere in any way.
 

  
“Blake!” I was furious and desperate.
 

  
“
Submit
.”
 

  
I jolted at the sharp edge of his voice.
 

  
“You need to submit to me, Erica, if you want to come. No more playing games. No more testing me.”