My Tye (21 page)

She didn’t know if she should. She didn’t know what the protocol was, what
his
protocol was. They’d never discussed any kind of rules or who could do what to whom and when. Up until this point, she hadn’t needed to think about that. He’d taken charge from the get-go. But now here she was, unsure of how far she could go. Should she ask if she could touch him? Or should she just slide her hand closer?

She didn’t get a chance to sort it out, not when her riled subconscious made the decision for her.

“Can I…” she started as she moved her hand over the bulge in his pants.

“Fuck, yes.” His eyes drifted closed as he practically groaned the words. When he opened them again a breath later, the burn from his quick stare sizzled over her skin. Just as quickly, he looked away, concentrating on the road ahead of them while twisting on the steering wheel with his free hand. “Damn, woman. You’re going to make me wreck.”

She laughed a little at that, pressing her hand more firmly over him, stroking the contour of him. The length of him. Loving how hard and thick he was.

Her chuckle died away as a crazy thrill shot through her. She’d dreamed he’d feel like this.
Just
like this. “You won’t wreck,” she said on a breath. “You won’t because you want this as much as I do.”

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you want to do to me. I want to hear you say it.”

Oh God, could she? All those times she’d fantasized about being with him. About being his. All those times she touched him in her dreams. The times she tasted him. Yet none of that compared to telling him about it. To being moments away from actually living it.

“Tell me,” he said again, more forcefully.

“Everything,” she blurted out before she could think harder on it and talk herself out of saying anything altogether. “I want to take you into my mouth. I want to feel you inside me. I want to be on top of you, straddling you until you can’t take it anymore. Until neither one of us can.”

They came to a red light where he barreled to a stop on a quick swerve. He didn’t so much as take a breath before he turned toward her. He covered her hand over his cock with one of his, then drew her into him tighter with the other before smashing his lips against hers. His kiss screamed with an urgency she’d never quite felt in him before. An uncharacteristic unraveling of his control almost. It spoke to how affected by this he was. To how similar their feelings really were.

She gripped him through his pants even harder and moaned. He matched the sound with a guttural one of his own.

She’d never before wished for a red light to last forever. But it didn’t. All too soon the stoplight turned to green. “How fast can you get us back to the ranch?” she asked, breathing hard against his lips.

He settled himself back in front of the wheel and floored it. “Not fast enough.”

When he took her hand and pulled it away from his cock and placed it back on his thigh, she didn’t know whether to chuckle or pout.

She did know, however, that the next twenty-five minutes just might turn out be the longest of her life.

There was something to be said for urgency—a lot, as a matter of fact. When they finally got back to the ranch, Tye didn’t pull around to the side of the house to park as he normally would. This time, he stopped dead center in front of the steps leading to the front door, killed the truck’s engine and took Laine by her hand. He rushed them up the steps and unlocked the door in record time, only to spin on her once they made it inside. He swooped her into his arms and carried her through the living room, heading straight down the hallway toward his bedroom.

There was no pretense once they got there. He shoved the covers aside and laid her on the bed, coming over her as he did to cover her body with his. The heft of him on top of her, of how perfect he felt there, only added to the delirium already spinning inside her head. He was kissing her, consuming her, running his hands up and down her sides, working them underneath her until he had her wrapped fully in his arms.

He rolled with her then, until he lay flat on his back and she was straddling him, just as she’d confessed she wanted to do. Easing the grip he had on her, he glided his hands across her shoulders, pulling her arms from where she had them around his neck. She broke away from his lips and reared back, almost panting as he closed his hands around her wrists.

“Hold on to the headboard,” he instructed. “Don’t let go.”

This time, she knew what he was doing. She’d come to learn that, with him, their sexual encounters weren’t going to be so much about the bondage side of BDSM, but more about control. He didn’t need to bind her with handcuffs or ties. Right now, alone with him in his bedroom, he didn’t need anything more than the sound of his voice to restrain her. His words were enough. The demanding way he said them made her want to follow his orders.

The dominating way he took charge had her anxious to submit.

So when he tugged on his tie and started to pull it off, she wondered for a second if she’d gotten him wrong. But her uncertainty lasted only until he held the tie lengthwise in front of her eyes.

“Trust me?”

If her attacker had blindfolded her, there’d be no way she’d be ready for something like this. But he hadn’t, and Tye knew that. Still, in his own way he was making sure she was okay with it. And she was. Here, under his control, she was okay with whatever he wanted to do. She wanted to experience everything he had to offer.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded once.

“That’s not good enough,” he said. “You have to say it.”

God…

“I do. I trust you.”

He secured the tie over her eyes, then skimmed his fingers down her neck and chest when he finished. Moving lower, he traced her nipple through the dress with the tip of one finger. The tingle from the tightening bud shot through the rest of her breast, making her crazy desperate for more.

“You’re with me?”

She nodded again, too caught up in her own needs to remember he wanted the words.

“Say it.”

“All the way,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said, shifting underneath her.

The tie over her eyes brought about the loss of one sense, and with that deprivation came the heightening of others. Her breaths sounded louder, but so did his. The scent of his cologne drifted stronger under her nose. The fruity sweetness of the wine they’d had at the gallery lingered on their lips and tongues. She tasted a hint of it again as he took her in another maddening kiss.

He quickly had her writhing over him, grinding against him, aching to be skin to skin on top of him. Just when she thought she might go insane, he moved, lifting her leg and slipping out from underneath her.

She couldn’t see where he went, but she could hear him. His loud breaths, his movement close by.

“Tye?”

“Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t move. Stay there, on your knees. Don’t let go of the headboard.”

“I won’t.” She couldn’t. He had her frozen with anticipation.

Clothes rustled nearby. He was taking his jacket off and tossing it on the chair across from the bed, she was sure of it. She followed each sound he made, heard his hand skim down the front of his shirt as he popped each button free. She dropped her head between her raised arms and fought back a moan at the rustle when he peeled it off.

She thought he might continue to remove his clothes, but he stopped there. She envisioned him in her mind’s eye, standing next to the bed, all yummy and shirtless, yet still wearing those form-fitting dress pants. The image had her head spinning all over again. She was dying to feel him like that. God, she’d give just about anything to feel him like that.

But he had other plans, it seemed. The next sound she heard was a drawer opening and closing from across the room. A moment later, a weight came to rest just below the small of her back. His palm, maybe? It had to be. Yet he didn’t move, he just held it there. He was still. So damn still.

Her heart pounded. Her mouth went dry. She arched her back and dropped her hips, because, God, she couldn’t
not
do something.

“I told you not to move.”

On the outside, she turned to stone. But on the inside, her body went ballistic. Her blood shot through her veins faster than it ever had before. Her pussy throbbed in sync with every quick and erratic breath she forced herself to take.

His hand was so close to where she wanted it to be. Inches, really. God, fricking millimeters. But he didn’t move. He held himself so
still
.

If he didn’t do something soon…

The second the thought fired through her brain, he slid his other hand up the back of her thigh. He latched on to the hem of her dress and raised it, pulling it higher and higher until he’d exposed her ass.

From the random assortment of lingerie she’d shoved into the duffel bag at her house four days ago, her selection for tonight had been pretty dismal. She’d chosen a simple black bikini. Practical yet sexy. Utilitarian, yet incredibly silky, too.

What seemed odd was when he finally moved the hand from the small of her back down the curve over her rear, the bikini’s material started to snag and pull. His touch was light, like his fingers barely hovered over her, but his stroke also felt somewhat…prickly?

And why was there no heat, no warmth coming from his hand? It was as if there were something other than her panties in between them. A barrier of some sort. A heavy fabric covering his…

Oh God, he was wearing gloves.

Gloves like the ones she’d seen in the shadowbox frame in Jack’s office at Club Euphoria. The leather gloves with the tiny, razor-like spikes poking out along the fingers.

Panic set in. Or was that excitement? The two ran so closely together, she wasn’t sure which rush she felt more. She told him she didn’t want the pain. She confessed her trepidation, in no uncertain terms. She trusted him to listen to her.

Her fingers flexed over the top of the headboard, but she didn’t let go. She wanted to believe he took her confession to heart. That he wouldn’t force her beyond where she wanted to go.

When the spikes on the glove hooked deeper into the fabric of her panties, a quiet whimper blew past her lips.

“Easy,” he soothed.

The low timber of his voice reassured her enough to tamp down a bit of her apprehension. And when he dragged her panties over her ass with the glove, down just far enough that they slipped on their own to pool around her knees, the whimper she let out somehow morphed into a throaty mewl.

She expected him to touch her then, to swirl that prickly gloved hand around and over her bare ass. When the gentle scratch came to her thigh opposite of where he stood instead, she flinched. Even as he again soothed her with a quiet, “Shhh,” there was no denying she was closing in on the point where it might become impossible for her remain either still or silent.

For now though, she’d try her best. She drew her lips between her teeth and bit down, concentrating on the tingling sensation he massaged higher up her thigh. So much like the innocuous zaps of pins and needles when her foot or hand fell asleep, but so erotically different, too. He caressed the right cheek of her ass, scratching lightly, tickling her almost. There was no pain, but she knew there could be. A little harder touch, a little faster movement. Hell yes, there could be pain. There could even be blood.

But he wasn’t pushing her to go there. He knew, God, he knew just how far to take her.

He climbed on the bed and knelt behind her, sweeping his hand higher to brush over her lower back. With his other hand, he grabbed the zipper pull at the back of her dress and drew it down. The bodice fell away, and he moved quickly, telling her to lift first one knee then the other as he pulled the dress and her panties the rest of the way off. He then settled himself right back to where he’d been.

Right back where she wanted him.

She’d gone braless tonight, the bodice of the dress being enough to hold and lift her small breasts perfectly. He groaned in what she hoped was approval, continuing his path bit by bit up her naked back. Only this time, instead of lightly brushing his hand over her skin, he pressed gently, moving higher, like he was taking tiny barbed steps between her shoulder blades.

It wasn’t until he leaned over her, until he moved that hand and his other to her front, that she realized he’d put on the second glove. When he cupped her breasts, she hissed. Not so much from any sort of pain, since the sensation didn’t hurt. Not exactly. It was more…overwhelming. Sensory overload. Too much to think about all at once. Too much to feel.

The urge to move, to rear back against him, stormed over her again. But if she gave in, the thorny tingles zipping through her breasts would pierce her deeper, turning the odd pleasure she was experiencing now into stabs of pain, all from her own doing. She had to be patient. She had to do what he said and stay still. She had to hold on to that trust she’d given him.

He held her like that for what had to be only a matter of seconds, even though it felt like forever in her mind. Then he spoke, and upped the ante even more.

“Let go of the headboard. Hold your hands behind you.”