Private Practice (Private Pleasures 1)

He sighed and stared back at her, brooding eyes scanning her face. “Yeah, if I can do the same. You spelled out what you wanted from this arrangement right from the start, and I agreed. I don’t know what crawled up my ass for a second.” Reaching out, he swept her hair away from her forehead. “The heat, I guess…”

A depressing thought snuck into her brain, and flew out of her mouth before she could edit it. “You’re probably feeling stuck—trapped in this deal with me for another three weeks.”

He gave her hair a light pull, but his eyes stayed serious. “That’s not it.”

“Nice of you to say, but I know spending weeks and weeks with the same girl isn’t your style. Long-term commitments make you nervous. I understand.”

When he opened his mouth to interrupt, she rushed on. “We could tighten the lesson schedule if you have the flexibility, and finish by the end of the week. I’m thinking chapter 6 tomorrow, then the last two chapters Saturday and Sunday. That way you can see a light at the end of the tunnel.”

An empty ache swelled in her chest at the thought of their lessons coming to an end. Spending time with him had quickly become the best part of her week. True, as a sex tutor, he proved exasperating, bossy, and…unmanageable at times, but also flat-out fun and easy to talk to. She’d never been so completely herself with anyone, ever. Even with her closest friends from med school, she kept parts of her life hidden from view—mostly the Frank parts—because revealing them left her feeling too vulnerable and pathetic. Tyler somehow saw those parts without her saying a word, which should have made her wary of him. But he didn’t mouth platitudes or try to deny the obvious. He simply understood, and by understanding, lightened some of the weight. No wonder she yearned for more.

Don’t go there, her mind warned. “More” with Tyler wasn’t in the plans—his or hers. He wasn’t looking to fall in love, settle down, and start a family. Heck, it was all he could do to curb his wild ways long enough to appease the savings and loan. She and Tyler simply didn’t share the same goals, but even if they did, there couldn’t be two people less qualified to attain those goals together. Now, Roger, on the other hand—

“I’m not looking for a light at the end of the tunnel, Ellie,” Tyler said quietly, cutting into her thoughts. “But we can take the lessons at whatever pace you want. I’m free tomorrow night. Pencil me in for chapter 6.”

Chapter Thirteen

Ellie knelt on her bed and watched, heart pounding, as Tyler dug into the Slap & Tickle bag on her nightstand and withdrew the handcuffs, but when she reached for them, he raised an eyebrow and lifted them out of her grasp. “You’ve got the scenario turned around, Doc. You’re the helpless hostage. I’m your merciless captor.”

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. Was he serious? Every fantasy she’d hatched about chapter 6 involved tying him up and taking advantage of him. The opposite scenario never entered her mind.

“No, no.” She grabbed the Wild Woman guide from her nightstand. “According to the book, you’re the one who wears the cuffs and the blindfold.”

“I don’t think so.” Intercepting, he opened the book to chapter 6, turned it around so she could see, and tapped the illustration. “This figure here, with the long hair and the breasts, blindfolded and tied to the bed? That’s you. The one straddling her, with the penis? That would be me.”

“You can’t just go by the picture.” She took the book from him. “If you’d read the chapter, you’d know the illustration is just that, an example. You have to determine which person in the couple is the dominant and which the submissive, in terms of sexual personality.”

Instead of conceding to her superior research, he shrugged and started working her plum-colored satin panties down her legs. “Right. So let’s get rid of these, and then you reach on up there and grab the rails. I’ll cuff you and—”

“I’m not the submissive one in our duo.”

“Honey,” he said, half-indulgent, half-amused, as if she’d just insisted she could beat him arm-wrestling.

“Don’t ‘honey’ me. I’m serious.”

“Not three days ago you accused me of always having to be in control, and now I’m the submissive?”

“You’re a textbook case. Look,” she ran a finger across the page until she found the paragraph she sought. “It says right here, ‘Don’t pigeonhole your alpha stud as the dominant in your sexual scenarios.’” She slapped her free hand against his chest to hold him back when he closed in with the cuffs. “‘Though perhaps counterintuitive, a physically powerful man may find more pleasure in the submissive role, precisely because he perceives the alternative dynamic—dominating a smaller, weaker woman—inequitable.’”

“You saying I’m too much of a gentleman to tie you up?”

“Not me. The experts.”

“Here’s what I think of your experts.” In a domineering move that might have melted her panties had she been wearing any, he clasped her wrists in one big hand. Before she could even think about protesting, her arms were stretched above her head, secured in handcuffs wrapped around the center rail of her brass headboard.

He leaned back and admired his handiwork. “I defy all your experts.”

Lying nearly naked before him, wearing only a lacy bra and handcuffs, she wondered if he had a point. Then she tested the cuffs. “You did it wrong, Longfoot. These are way too loose. If I wanted to, I could slide right out.”

“I’m not holding you against your will.” He tugged his T-shirt over his head, subjecting her to a fascinating play of light over the muscled terrain of his torso. “If I’m doing my job right”—he tossed the shirt aside—“you won’t want to slide out.”

Not want her hands free to tear his jeans off? Not want to touch him all over? Not likely. And this was exactly why he wasn’t the dominant. He’d happily charm her pants off, didn’t mind the occasional show of strength, but he’d never overpower and take. Such antics violated his personal code, even as a game.

She didn’t suffer the same compunction. “Kiss me,” she ordered, then bided her time as he leaned in and delivered on her request. When his mouth fused to hers and their tongues embarked on a slippery duel for supremacy, she slithered out of the cuffs. Taking full advantage of the element of surprise, she reared up, twisted, and rolled until he lay flat on his back and she straddled his chest. Then she cuffed his wrists around the headboard.

“You out to prove something, Sparky?” His teasing smile dimmed only slightly when he tried to pull his hands free and found them secured snugly. No sliding out for him.

“That’s Mistress Ellie to you.” She reached for the blindfold he’d placed on the nightstand, bringing her lace-covered breasts enticingly close to his mouth in the process.