Authors: Emily Ryan-Davis
TiedandTwisted (10 page)
Jovanna reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp
that held her top in place at the nape of her neck. The slinky material parted
from that point, leaving her room to ease her arms from the sleeves and slide
the bit of silk down her hips and over her heels. She straightened to find
David’s focus on her breasts. Her nipples tightened instantly at his regard.
He withdrew something small and shiny from his pocket and
hid the item in his fist. “More, sweetheart. Keep going.”
The intent gleam in his eyes, combined with the soft crack
of leather on flesh from a scene taking place behind her, sent a shiver to her
toes. David’s nostrils flared.
Recalling the first time she stripped for him, Jovanna lowered
the zipper at her hip and shimmied out of her skirt. She wouldn’t be denying
him anything this time, not placing any conditions upon his satisfaction. Not
making any demands about the timing or method of hers.
“These too?” She slid a fingertip beneath the lacy top of
her stocking and raised an eyebrow. The club’s music pulsed around them but she
didn’t doubt for a second that David would hear her as easily as she heard him.
In the months since she’d slept in his bed, they’d discovered an interesting—sometimes
frightening to her reluctant-to-commit self—attunement.
Shaking his head, he closed the small distance between them
and unfastened the clasp holding her hair at her nape. David stood close enough
that she could feel his erection at her hip. Her stiff nipples rose against his
shirt, sought his heat.
“You look more than a little scared.” He pressed his thumb
to the pulse point below her ear. “Afraid I’ll make you beg?”
“Afraid you’ll eventually make me want more than I’m
comfortable asking for.” She offered a small, wry smile. “I’m pretty sure
you’ll make me beg.”
“You never have any problems letting me know when you want
to come.” His palm slid from her shoulder to her wrist, leaving her nerve
endings alert in the wake of his touch. With a light tug, he turned her toward
the bench. “Hop up here and give me your hands.”
She knelt on the bench and raised her arms toward the cuffs
dangling overhead. David placed a kiss in her left palm before securing her
wrist in the padded restraints. He repeated the tender gesture for her right
hand. The breath shuddered from her lungs. Mikal had always taken good care of
her but his care had been impersonal. Butterflies jigged in her stomach as the
reality of
this
settled more firmly into her bones.
“David?”
“Hmm?” He tested the strength of the chains with his weight
before looking down at her. “How can I help you?”
She moistened her lips and met his eyes. “Submission isn’t
something I practiced during my marriage. That was…being unwillingly
controlled. And I’ve never come here before with a partner. I’ve always come on
my own.”
David slid his fingers between hers and squeezed her hands,
concern in the set of his mouth. “Do you want to stop now and go somewhere to
talk?”
“I…no. I just wanted to tell you.”
“What else do you want to tell me?”
Heat flushed her cheeks but she made herself hold his gaze
and speak. “I’m a little freaked out by how turned-on I am at the prospect of
surrendering myself to you.
You
. Face-to-face. Without anything remotely
anonymous.”
“Do you want me to give you a blindfold?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No. I want you to hurry up and
get started so I can stop thinking and start begging.”
Relief sounded in his laugh. “Should I surprise you next
time instead of planning?”
Finally arousal surged over anxiety, directing her along a
clear path of response. David catching her unaware, rope in hand and ready to
play? “God, yes.”
“A surprise assault is within my power.” He released her
hands, dropped into a crouch in front of her and enveloped her right nipple in
one quick movement.
Jovanna gasped, her back bowing under the unexpected
onslaught. Teeth from the start, no gentle licking or sucking. David drew hard
enough to make her flinch. Sharp little darts of pain seared a path straight to
her clit as he flicked his tongue across the now-distended tip of her nipple.
Her head sagged until she found herself staring at the ceiling and the chains
attached to her cuffs. He squeezed her hip and directed his attention to her
other breast, delivering the same rough, wet treatment. And suddenly she knew
what he was going to do.
She whipped her head up and looked down at him, watching his
mouth at her breast. David glanced up, held her gaze as he sucked her left
nipple into a tight peak. He finished with a bite and held up a bit of gleaming
metal.
“Remember?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she whispered. And she remembered the other part of
his fantasy. Her pussy creamed on a hot pulse of anticipation.
With a short nod, he flicked his tongue across her nipple
and gathered the pale mound firmly in his grasp. The clamp was a cold bite
around her hot flesh but its chill only momentarily distracted her. David
tightened the screw and her focus narrowed down to the imprisoned pink tip. By
the time he compressed her nipple into the second clip, her breath was coming
quick and short.
He sat back to admire his work, appreciation fully evident
in the prominent outline of his cock, thick and hard behind his fly.
“This isn’t just about me,” she realized out loud.
“No. But it always has been before, hasn’t it?” David drew a
line from her navel to her slit but stopped short of testing her wetness. “Just
you and the music and something unknown but not too unknown.”
He stood and turned away without waiting for her to answer.
Jovanna watched him select a riding crop from an array of equipment provided by
the club and her entire body tightened with awareness. The music could have
been white noise for all it registered. David, the memory of his fantasy, the
sting of clamps at her breasts, and the knowledge of what he’d do with that
crop pushed her pulse into overdrive.
And she was okay with sharing the experience with him
instead of hiding behind her anonymity rule. More than okay with it. Crop in
hand, he returned to her.
She blew out a steadying breath and wrapped her fingers
around the chains overhead. “You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?”
“I figure you’re eventually going to make me beg for
something I want from you. While you might not want to wear a collar, I
wouldn’t mind wearing a ring.” He tapped the tongue of the crop against her
hip. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” Maybe for the ring too.
About the Author
Emily Ryan-Davis lives in
Maryland with her loving husband and hateful guinea pig. On any given day, you
can find her shopping (online or in stores), chatting/writing (the pair go hand
in hand, can’t have one without the other), knitting (or buying yarn) or
mocking her husband’s comic collection (while parenthetically wondering why
comics haven’t upgraded to the ebook age; imagine all the extra space she’d
have). Occasionally she picks up her mandolin, but mostly she just ignores it.
You won’t find her paying attention to current events or the latest celebrity
gossip because writing stories is her way of pretending it doesn’t matter that
she doesn’t know how to use the television remote.
Emily’s favorite authors are
Megan Hart, Terry Pratchett, JR Ward and Orson Scott Card. She loves sexy,
magical, funny and intense stories, but especially enjoys immersing herself in
the breathless intensity of a “with feeling” love scene. She can’t pick a genre
(decision-making issues!) so writes in whatever setting calls to her at any
given time: contemporary paranormal, historical western, medieval Europe,
Gothic France—if she can imagine a strong emotional attraction existing in a
particular place or time, chances are she’ll write the story.
Emily welcomes comments from
readers. You can find her website and email address on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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Also by
Emily Ryan-Davis
Print books by Emily Ryan-Davis
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