Page 2 of The Player

“That is such bullshit. It takes a strong individual to recognize a need to submit and let loose of all control if only for a little bit.”

“Aye, but you’re a Dom, which means you know how it is. That leads me back to my original question: are you sure you want to do this? I’ll tell you now, I think one of the reasons Royce couldn’t let what he thought was her betrayal go was because he knew how you felt about her.”

“I didn’t have any feelings about her. She was Royce’s sub, and I don’t poach.”

“Nay, lad, you’re far too honorable to do that, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t notice the way you looked at her. I also think he believed if he got out of the way, the two of you might get together.”

It was Seth’s turn to snort. “Hope was never interested in me.”

“You keep telling yourself that, and you may miss the opportunity of a lifetime.”

The hairs on the back of Seth’s neck began to tickle. “What opportunity? What are you up to?”

“Never you mind. From the moment you knew Hope was in London and playing at Baker Street again, you’ve been angling to come for a visit. I’m handing her to you on a silver platter. The only thing that is left to be seen is whether you’re Dom enough to take it. Are you, or should I find someone else?”

“If she’s looking for a Shibari session, I’m the best one here. Besides, you know I would never betray her confidence.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. Remember, she isn’t to know it’s you, so disguise your voice. Hope finds peace and solace in being bound. I expect you to give that to her.”

“And if she wants more?” Seth asked.

“There’s nothing to prevent you from going as far as either of you would like. Hope knows the score, and you’re on the stoplight system.”

Seth nodded, picked up his kit, which contained the rope he liked to use, and headed toward the private playroom. Outside the door, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, centering himself, and entered the room. If Hope could find peace and solace in his ropes, he meant to give it to her.

Deciding that most women he knew loved a Scottish accent and doing a passable imitation of Fitz, he set his kit down quietly. “In case you couldn’t tell, you’re no longer alone.”

“Fitz?”

“Nay, lass. The Scotsman only plays with his wife. He said you were looking for a scene involving Shibari. I’ve considerable skill in the art, and I’d love to see your beautiful body bound in my ropes.”

Hope’s body shivered with desire. She was a beautiful woman. She reminded him of a taller version of a young Elizabeth Taylor—black hair, violet eyes, and an hourglass figure that could keep a man enchanted forever. Seeing her naked, on her knees, blindfolded with her hands resting on top of her slightly parted thighs was something he thought he’d remember for the rest of his life. Her nipples were erect, and what he could see of her sex said she was already aroused.

He’d been secretly glad when Royce had pitched a hissy fit about finding Hope in the arms of a man who turned out to be a Russian spy. Hope hadn’t known that at the time, and she and Royce had never formalized their relationship nor asked for exclusivity on either side. Whether or not she had actually cheated was debatable. In Seth’s mind, Royce was just as much at fault for not declaring himself.

“Give me your hand, lass.” Hope obeyed and placed one hand in his. “I’m going to help you get to your feet.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said with a soft smile curling her lips.

He moved behind her, taking her arm with him—she offered him no resistance. “I’m going to position your arms in a U behind your back, forearms touching with your fingers pointed toward your opposing elbows.”

Gently, he moved her hands into place. The position would arch her back slightly, pushing her breasts out. He bound her arms, using a double-column tie and passing it around her waist. The room’s lighting was low and moody, which didn’t matter to her as she was blindfolded, but it seemed to put everything on soft focus, making her skin almost glow.

He’d always known that Hope found peace in being bound. Royce had done it for her, but it wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed. He might like seeing a woman bound in a role play, but he didn’t savor every knot he tied, connecting in a deeply intimate manner that, when done right, could send the one being bound into subspace.

Seth worked carefully. The rope he used was soft but would leave a pattern that would last several hours once she was released from it. He secured an overhand knot in the front, ensuring it was snug. Between her breasts and the hollow of her throat, he tied another overhand knot. Each time he pulled a knot snug, he could feel his cock tightening that much more. He’d actually convinced himself that he hadn’t wanted her back then. He’d been wrong.

“Do you know how beautiful you are, lass?” he purred as he brought the rope over her shoulders and around her arms.

Slowly and methodically, he worked the ropes until she was wrapped in an intricate tortoiseshell pattern of his own design, passing the rope under her arms and back around to her front. Her nipples had been puckered before; now they were hard nubs just begging to be suckled.

Hope remained absolutely still as he continued to move the rope along her skin, letting his fingers linger here and there. He wanted it loose enough that it didn’t damage her circulatory system, but snug enough that she could feel it. With each knot, each wrap, he could feel Hope relax.

He wrapped her breasts in the rope so that only her areola and nipples were showing. Her breath hitched, and she shivered. He could see and smell the uptick in her arousal. Seth loved women, loved seeing them naked and willing or naked and angry until his hands and mouth brought them pleasure long before he indulged himself.

People believed that the lifestyle was one-sided, where the Dom took from the sub, and she serviced him in any way he liked. There were relationships like that. But in all the best ones he knew, there was give and take on both sides, and most of the Doms he respected were far more concerned about their sub’s well-being than their own personal gratification.

He finished off the design and stepped back. “Lass, you are a masterpiece; absolutely beautiful.”

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