“Put your hair up.”
He reaches around and holds something out to me. I glance down at his open palm, realizing the thing he snagged from the counter was a rubber band. I take it from him and use it to secure my long brown waves into a knot atop my head. Easton grabs my wrists and positions them behind my back when I’m done, using his tie to bind me, the fabric rough on my skin.
Everything feels heightened, and he’s barely even started. Every stroke of his fingers over my now bare skin, the heat from his words against my neck, the erection in his pants that’s pressed into my ass, the feel of his rock-hard abs along my bound hands. I feel it all as my flesh burns hot in all the places he’s touched me.
Easton fiddles with the button and zipper of my jeans, and I jump initially but manage to collect myself.
“Relax, amore.”
I nod, feverishly.
“Do you trust me?”
This nod is subtle and laced with a nervous tremor.
“Use your words. I need to hear this,” he says impassively.
“I trust you,” I mutter, and involuntarily brush my fingers over his abs again.
He undoes my zipper, and I watch the action, a large rush of air leaving my lungs as he yanks my jeans down around my ankles and I step out of them. There’s that chill again, and it courses through my veins like icicles.
“I’m going to do things to you.” He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Things that I like, things that’ll make you hurt.” He takes my earlobe between his teeth, biting down gently.
It hurts, and though my brain senses the pain, I don’t budge. He stops biting and blows away the ache and I shiver. He moves down my neck, pinching my skin between his teeth, stopping when I wince from the sudden change. Now he’s kissing me, his lips warm against the marks.
Easton rubs my sides, dragging his rough hands down my frame aggressively. But on the way back up, he’s slow and sensual, a stark contrast to what he gave me a second before. All of sudden he smacks my ass, catching me off guard, so I yelp.
“If at any point this becomes too much for you, speak up.” He massages the spot he just spanked. “But most of all, you’ll need to trust me. Can you do that?”
I nod with a soft moan when he pushes my panties to the side to knead my ass cheek. His dick is hard and pressing into the small of my back, but he doesn’t seem to notice as much as I do.
“Use your words, amore,” he repeats and pinches my hip.
“Yes,” I stutter.
“Yes, what?” Easton snakes an arm around my waist and yanks me to him, his chest like solid rock.
I shake my head at the same time lying back on his shoulder when he fondles my left nipple through my bra, squeezing it with his thumb and index. My eyes roll, and I nibble on my bottom lip to snuff out the whimpers building in my throat.
Easton smacks my breast—once, and then two more times in rapid succession. “This is where you say: Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir,” I huff out.
He’s gentle with me now, rubbing soft circles around my pert bud. I relax in his arms, loving the way he makes my body feel. The instant shock from the whipping, bites, and pinching only to be replaced with sweeter touches. It’s euphoric, but it’s something I haven’t quite figured out if I can get used to.
“Look at me,” he growls and moves his hands away from my body.
I twist at a snail’s pace, my hands still tied behind my back. Easton stares down at me through dark, slitted eyes. I try to hold his gaze, but the tension filling the space between us is too much, so instead I follow the path his fingers take as he removes his blazer first, letting it fall next to my feet.
Then he works at the buttons of his dress shirt—one painfully slow button at a time—and keeps his eyes fixed on me, teasing me with his gaze, but he doesn’t take it off. My heart is racing with anticipation so loud I can hear it in my head.
He uses his head to point me toward my office. “On the desk.”
I step around him, my nerves going haywire. Stopping for a brief moment, I look up at him, giving him a questioning glance. Easton doesn’t speak, he only watches me and I watch him unknowingly, fear and excitement building up inside me. I’ve asked for this, but not knowing what he’s going to do is starting to make me second guess my sanity.
But like a curious cat, I push my shoulders back, feigning a sense of confidence as I saunter back into my office, wearing nothing but my underwear and bra. The old desk is cold against my thighs when I reach it, but I ignore the chill and twist to sit on the edge. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get on the damn thing like he’s demanding, what with my hands behind my back. So I scoot one cheek at a time until I’m fully seated with my feet dangling.
I inhale deeply, opening up my chest, focusing on my breaths to settle my nerves. Easton turns and strolls toward me, his eyes still holding on to anger, hunger—lust. He wants this—probably needs this. I’ve never seen him so out of control but in control at the same time. The way he came in here, the way we got to this point is the weakest I’ve ever seen him. And it’s like the moment I allowed him to have what he wants, he’s coming back to himself a little at a time.
He drags his sight from my face to my still covered boobs, across my stomach, and down to my thighs. By the time he makes his way back up to my face, he’s standing in front of me, directly between my thighs.
Easton reaches out and rubs his palms up and down my legs then glides them to my hips where he digs his nails into my flesh. I wince through a shaky breath but manage to push the pain away. Besides, it wasn’t as bad when he spanked me.
He works up my frame, rubbing, tugging, and slapping at nearly every bare inch of skin. Then he grips my neck, squeezing slightly and tilting my head back. His lips are on me now, licking a trail from my collarbone to the crease between my small tits. He bites the left one, stopping when I let out a cry.
Easton licks the spot while staring at me, and I shudder from the rush of sensations.
“What are you going to do?” I quiz.
“Stop talking. You speak when I tell you to.” He strokes my chin then plants a kiss on my lips.
I silently agree.
“And remember, you need to trust me.”
“I do.” The words come out huskily.
“Pick a safe word.”
A wave of confusion hits me and I frown. It’s not that I don’t know what he means, I just wasn’t expecting to have to come up with one out of nowhere.
“It’s the only word you’ll be allowed to say without permission. If you speak out of turn, I’ll punish you. If you don’t answer me, I’ll make it hurt.”
I dip my chin to my chest and nervously wet my lips.
“And, Arloe.” Easton cups my face, forcing me to look at him. “If you come without asking, I’ll break you.”
I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. The only response I’m able to give is another weak nod. What have I agreed to?
“Yellow,” I mumble.
Easton doesn’t speak, but he claims my mouth again, and I know he’s accepting my safe word. The thought of needing one scares me but intrigues me all the same. I’m no prude, and I read romance novels, so I know what BDSM is, and honestly, maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him. The allure of fiction. My mind is so consumed with the things I read that I’m hoping to have even the tiniest ounce of that from him.