Page 33 of Mine To Break
Chapter Fourteen
Caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, Colby stared down at her. His fingers tightened in her hair, rather than jerking away with shock. As if he’d decided he might as well make the most out of his infraction and touch her as long as he could. Maybe he was starting to understand how these games unfolded. Cat and mouse, luring him in, punishment—all, ultimately, to give them both what they wanted.
Extreme satisfaction. Even for the man who claimed nothing could satisfy him any longer.
She started to get up, so he released her hair and put those hands to good use and helped her stand.
“What do you think I should do with you?”
His complexion had started to fade back to normal, his acute embarrassment fading. “I suppose you’re going to punish me.”
“What does that mean to you?”
“The hell if I know.”
She pursed her lips, as if she had to think very hard about the best way to teach him a lesson. “I’ll be back in a moment. You stand here and think about what you’ve done.”
She actually meant that. She wanted him to think about putting himself into her hands. Trusting her enough to let her experiment with toys, even ones they already knew they’d discard like the pony gear. Letting her deliberately lure him into release, so that she could explore something new and different with him. Whether he was going to continue to put that trust in her, even if she came back with something potentially scary for a newbie submissive. Let alone a man who might not be a true submissive at all.
Rummaging around in the bedside drawer, she made a great show of looking for just the right equipment. She even pulled a box out from beneath the bed and sorted through several items. By the time she came back to him, sweat had started to drip down his forehead. Even better…
His erection had returned. And he knew it. Standing there stark naked in her living room, waiting for her punishment, he’d gotten turned on again.
The white rope was hopefully not a surprise after their first night. Though this time, she fully intended to put it to good use. “Put your hands behind your back, soldier boy.”
He widened his stance and put his wrists in the small of his back, almost like he was standing at attention for inspection. That could be fun. Loosening the hank of rope so she had a good amount in either hand, she started with his wrists. Then criss crossed the rope around his waist, up his chest, around his arms and shoulders. She used up the rope, ending with a loose wrap around his neck that did little to restrain or constrict his breathing—but acted as a reminder of exactly what she was doing to him. Then she stepped back and surveyed her work.
Muscles strained against the rope. Instinctively testing her skill, how firmly he was restrained and exploring his options for escape. A combat soldier had probably been prepped at least in training about what to do if captured. The way he stared at her now, eyes dark, body braced, made her think about all sorts of role playing they could do. “Are you a spy sent to gather intel on me? Or maybe you’re just a poor soldier boy caught on the wrong side of the lines.”
Refusing to play along, at least for now, he replied back with a question of his own. “What are you going to do to me now that you have me tied up?”
She sat back down on the couch and picked up her glass of wine. His surprise, and yes, disappointment, made her lips quirk with amusement. “I haven’t decided yet. You’re just too pretty to look at. I want to enjoy the scenery first.”
He moved his shoulders and arms, testing the rope, trying to decide if he could work himself free. She doubted it. She wasn’t a Shibari expert, but she’d been around bondage most of her adult life. The rope was the perfect weight to be strong yet flexible, soft yet tough enough to hold even a two-hundred-pound veteran in place. Without his legs bound, he could still think about fleeing, though running away wasn’t in his DNA. She hadn’t wanted to make him feel completely helpless this first time. He needed something to fight, and leaving his legs free would give him the feeling that he had a chance.
“Next time, I want your hands in front of you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Next time?”
She smiled and sipped her wine. “You think I’m going to be satisfied with tying you up only once? I was nice this time. I didn’t even tie your cock up. Looks like he’s missing out on the entertainment.”
He twisted his wrists and blew out a disgusted breath. “I feel ridiculous standing here like this.”
She laughed softly. “That’s the point, sugar. Dominants like nothing better than tying up their subs and then making them feel ridiculous. I’ve seen them require a sub to fetch a newspaper and slippers with their teeth because their hands were tied up, just like you are now. Why do you think I left your legs free?”
“I’ve got better suggestions of things I could do with my mouth than play fetch like a dog.”
“Do you, now. Hmmm.” She let him stew a bit, as if she truly had to think about it. “I suppose you could try and undress me with your teeth.”
It was a trap. He had to know it. But he came toward her anyway and gingerly lowered himself to the floor in front of her. On his knees, arms bound, he hesitated. As if only just now realizing exactly where he was. What he was doing. She watched his face, loving the way his eyes darkened. His cock rose up hard and stiff, despite the moment of clarity. Though he wasn’t the kind of man to be lead around by his dick. He could actually stop now. Before he went too far. Before he had to decide how low he’d go for her. Because going on his knees with his hands tied behind his back must be pretty low in his mind.
She waited patiently, making sure not to hold her breath or try to sway him either way with body language. She didn’t open her thighs to lure him in. Just stared back, evenly, waiting to see what he’d choose. She wanted him to make the conscious decision to play the game with her. Otherwise, it was no game. He might as well go home and delete her number from his phone.
He looked at her, tracing the lines of her body, lingering on her breasts. She hadn’t dressed up for him, even knowing he’d come back after making an appearance at work. Simple jeans and T-shirt. What she always wore at home. He hadn’t asked to see her in any of the BDSM dress-up outfits she kept for going to the club. This was her. The real her. Take it or leave it.
Though he sure did make an incredible sight with all that muscle bulging beneath the ropes.
“May I put my mouth on you, Mal?”
