Bound Beneath His Pain (Dirty Little Secrets 1)

“For me, too,” she breathes. “You look…God, you look so hot doing that.”

“Why?” I ask in honest curiosity, dragging a finger along the sensitive skin inside her wrist.

I feel her tense beneath my hands. Being bold is hard for a sweet girl like Allie, and I see the deep flush of her cheeks. But blood rushes to my cock, making me achy when she takes the dare and answers me: “It’s the way you touch the rope, almost like you’re touching me. It’s gentle, yet rough and determined, confident.”

“It excites you?” I ask.

She swallows deeply. “Yes.”

“Why?” I push her a little now.

“I want you to touch me like that.”

I tug on the rope around her wrist and promise, “Soon my touch is all you’ll know.” I realize now that my eyes were sealed shut, and if they’d been wide open, I would’ve seen that Allie liked a dominant touch. If I’d seen past my shame, I would’ve known that when I pinned her beneath me, she’d get off. If I had seen through my pain, I would’ve noticed that she reacted to my slaps against her ass. If my eyes had been truly open, I would’ve seen how responsive she is to me, being exactly what I need.

My eyes aren’t shut anymore.

With both wrists now secure, I take hold of the rope hanging down, leading her to the bed. Many times I’ve dreamed of seeing Allie wearing my ropes. I’ve gotten off with those images in my mind. But the dreams don’t compare to what I see when I lay her down for me in the middle of the mattress.

She’s everything I never knew I needed to look upon. It’s not the kink getting me off now, it’s her. It’s the pure energy she emits. It’s the nervous and excited way she’s looking at me. It’s the arousal I see in her puckered nipples and flushing cheeks. It’s her in the bindings that makes my cock twitch.

To not lose myself completely, I look away from her when I bind her to the headboard, focusing on the task at hand. Once I finish securing her, I slide off the bed, studying my beauty.

Arms bound above her, Allie bends one knee, hiding herself from me. I nudge her calf, giving a gentle correction, until she widens her legs, showing me what I want—a good view of her pretty, wet pink folds. “When we play like this, I want to see you, never hide from me.” I lift my eyes to hers. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she rasps.

Her teeth are working her bottom lip as I grab the nipple clamps in my hand and lean forward, sucking on her nipple until I’m licking the hard bud. I lean away, add the clamp, closing the screw until her expression pinches. Then in the same manner, I lick and swirl my tongue over her other nipple, and add the next clamp.

My cock is straining, sweat beginning to form over my flesh as her chest is rising and falling with her deep breaths. A mix of pain and pleasure shows on her face, being precisely what I want. Adrenaline slides beneath my control, slowly swirling to unleash itself at the perfect moment.

“That’s my girl,” I murmur, sliding between her warm thighs, looking from her face to the clamps, over and over again. I realize looking at her now that for so long I’ve fucked my pain away to avoid feeling anything. Somehow she made me feel everything and didn’t let me crash and burn.

I tell myself I won’t ever forget that, ever, as I place her thighs on my shoulders, lowering my mouth to her hot slit. She arches against me, moaning loudly when I slowly lick her, and taste the sweetness that belongs only to me. I glance up at her, and she’s watching me devour her.

The discomfort from the clamps, now removed from her face, is morphing into pleasure. I groan against her arousal slicking my tongue, my focus shifting from her eyes to the clamps squeezing her nipples. I place my finger beneath my chin, and at her entrance, tickling the tender skin un

til her chin angles up, then I push two fingers deep inside of her with little warning.

The clamps, the binding, me…she comes into orgasm so fast, she’s leaving me smiling in masculine pride against her sex. Her inner walls clamp against my finger, and her squeal of disagreement fills the air when I back away, refusing to let her soar over the edge.

“Shhh…” I place a soft kiss on her hard clit, feeling her quivering beneath my lips. “Let me play.” Determined to draw this moment out as long as I can, I kneel between her spread thighs, staring at her pink folds, stroking my rock-hard cock. Hunger spikes into my muscles and the rich desires inside take pleasure in this sight. Flushed cheeks. Bright, shiny eyes. Skin squeezed by rope. A helpless woman bound for my pleasure. Each stroke of my cock sends my hips forward, and I grunt against my pleasure, gritting my teeth.

She gives a soft squeak, wiggling against the bed. “Micah.”

The desperation in her voice snaps me into focus, and I see what I’m doing to her. Because as much as her vulnerability is driving me crazy, my dominance is doing the same to her. Her body is quivering with the force of emotion riding her. I grab her hips, flipping her over onto her stomach. I slap her bottom with an unforgiving hit, and her cute squeal makes me grin. I love her noises. I intend to make them louder.

My cock hardens to steel, painfully tight as I glance at her bindings and slide off the bed, seeing the rope is pressing into her skin. But the flesh is red, not blue, and she is just fine when I grab the suede flogger, twirling it in my hand. Her smooth, creamy flesh lays out before me—my personal playground—and in my line of vision I see the veins straining on the side of my dick.

I gather her hair, moving her soft strands off her back then trail my fingers down her smooth spine. I squeeze her bottom, loving how she’s a squirmy little thing when she’s this aroused. It’s sexy. It’s mine to enjoy. I twirl the flogger in my hand once more, relishing the power and the control that comes with holding one, and allowing her to hear the swoosh in the air. Then I send the leather tails onto her bottom.

“Oh, my God.” She giggles.

I flick the tails again, a little harder this time.

She gasps. “Okay. Wow. That’s…”

I send the tails along the other butt cheek, harder now, stopping all conversation. Her breathing, her body language, non-verbal communication, I pay attention only to her. I don’t give her time to think. Nor do I give her time to feel nervous or unsure. I flick the flogger faster, not missing a spot on her shoulders or her bottom, and not relenting for a second to allow the sensations to fade. Her hands tighten into fists, and I feed on her intensity, driving her higher, increasing the force, sending her into the place where her endorphins go on a fantastic ride. Her head drops onto the pillow beneath her, her toes point against the mattress, her moans spilling out into the room. And I’m pretty damn sure I can make her come from a flogging alone.