Bound to Submit (Miami Masters 4)

“Yes, there are…” She stiffened when he ran a hand down her side then stopped abruptly, his eyes widening then going to black slits when he found the small puckered scar.

Shifting to his side, he looked down, traced the bullet wound then peered back into her face. “That is from a gunshot.”

With all the fretting and second-guessing she had done before agreeing to this temporary relationship, she’d never considered the one physical scar from the night Craig attacked her would give her away. Hoping he would let it go, she kept her reply vague. “Yes, a stupid accident when I was younger.”

Hope couldn’t read anything into his silence or his intent, probing look, and squirmed in uncomfortable awareness of the press of his clothed, hard body against her nakedness and the conflicting urge to hide from him lest he uncover the whole story behind that scar. With an abruptness that made her gasp, he jumped lithely to his feet, hauling her up with him.

“You worked up a sweat and must be hot. You’ve done good so far, paying attention and heeding my commands. Now, let’s see how well you can continue to do so.”

She watched Miles stride over to a corner and bring back a padded stool which he placed in front of the mirrors she’d done her best not to look into as they’d been grappling. With a crook of his finger, he beckoned her over, his eyes watching the sway of her breasts before trailing down to her feet then back up again. What that man could do with just a look ought to be illegal, Hope bemoaned as her already overheated body turned into a raging furnace. Grasping her waist, he plopped her bare butt on the seat, facing the mirrors, then pulled each foot around the back of the leg rungs, leaving her thighs spread and her gaping vagina on embarrassing display.

“I’ve been hard pressed to ignore your tits since you removed your bra.” Picking up her hands, he placed them on her breasts with instructions. “I want you to work your nipples while I get something from the kitchen, and I mean really work them, Hope. Like this.” He grasped both nipples and pinched them between his thumbs and forefingers then slowly twisted until she blanched. “That seems to be your threshold, for now. We’ll work on building it until you can take more, and like it.”

“Just because spanking turns me on, doesn’t mean I’m into pain,” Hope grumbled as she fought the urge to rub her abused, throbbing buds.

“No?” With a quick swipe of one finger up her spread labia, he held up his glistening digit and proved her wrong. “Since you lied about your response, you can clean up the evidence. Lick it clean.”

Hope wasn’t sure if his demand turned her on or mortified her. The heat enveloping her face as she sucked his finger into her mouth and tasted her own juices could be from either reaction to the decadent order. She tightened her hands around the fleshy part of her breasts and closed her eyes to pretend it was his cock she was wrapping her tongue around, his cream she tasted and his low moan of pleasure reaching her ears.

“That’s enough.” Miles’ rough voice brought her eyes open, and the rigid set to his jaw and blazing eyes were both telltale signs she’d finally gotten to him. The small pleasure of satisfaction that gave her ended when he pinched her nipples again with a succinct command. “Get to work.”

Glaring at his back as he strode toward the kitchen, she started to give in to the childish urge to stick out her tongue when he said, without turning around, “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

Hope didn’t know if it was Miles’ ominous tone or the zap of pleasure she received from pinching her nipples that was responsible for the shivers rippling down her spine. Not willing to risk repercussions, she tormented her nipples to the same point of pain he had, squeezing then twisting the sensitive peaks until the discomfort bordered on painful. She kept her eyes either down on her breasts or trying to see what he was doing in the kitchenette, anywhere but at her reflection in the bank of mirrors in front of her. It had been a while since she’d indulged in touching herself, and given the frustration of the past week, was it any wonder she had herself worked into a feverish pitch a few minutes later when Miles returned carrying a small bowl he set on the floor.

Before she could glance down to see what he’d brought, he snagged her attention with a curt demand. “Let me see. Hold your breasts up for my inspection.”

More heat flooded her face as she lifted her breasts, presenting her nipples to him. He was really acting the hard-edged Dom this evening, and Hope continued to be surprised by the pleasure she received from obeying his commands. There was relief in not having to worry about whether she was doing something right, or if he wanted something she wasn’t giving him.

Miles ran a finger over each turgid tip, keeping his eyes on her face as he said, “Nice and warm, and hard. Very good, Hope, but I think you could use a little cooling off.” Reaching down, he came up with an ice cube and a wicked grin. “A deep breath might help here.”

Deep breath, hell. Nothing would have lessened the shock of ice hitting one nipple while Miles’ warm lips closed over the other. Since she didn’t dare release her breasts, Hope was forced to tighten her legs around the stool to keep her balance as he drew on her nipple with strong suctions while passing the frigid ice cube back and forth over the other. A soft cry spilled past her compressed lips as her nipple went numb and the other throbbed from his suckling. Then he switched, iced the side damp from his tongue and awoke the cold numbness from the other with his hot mouth. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know her cream dripped from her sheath onto the stool.

By the time Miles finished bedeviling her nipples, Hope was shaken with the need to climax and knew one small touch between her legs would set her off. She’d never gotten so aroused just from nipple play, and the heights to which he could take her were mind boggling, and a little scary. He must have read something in her face because he slowly shook his head and lifted her off the stool.

“Not yet. Have you ever been restrained in any way?”

Her heartbeat went into overdrive and palms grew sweaty with the suggestion. She shook her head. “No. Is that next?”

“No, Sir, and yes.” He turned her, drawing her arms behind her as he pressed against her backside. “I’ll just bind your arms today,” he reassured her. “Your safeword to call a halt at any time is red.”

Where he got the soft rope he started wrapping around her forearms, pressing them together from wrist to elbow, she couldn’t guess, but as the restraint signifying how much she was putting her trust in him threatened her composure, she quit wondering. A breath of panic escaped her tight lips when he finished and her automatic attempt to move her arms failed. Before it could give way to full-blown alarm, his large hands landed on her shoulders and warm breath blew in her ear with his soft but demanding voice.

“Inhale, Hope. Relax.” Miles kneaded her shoulders, his warm grip erasing the coldness of apprehension at the vulnerability of her circumstances. “Good girl. Now bend over.”

Such simple praise to have such a profound effect. Excitement replaced trepidation as his hands urged Hope over the stool until her abdomen rested on the padded seat and her breasts dangled down, hard nipples pointing toward the floor. He bent over her, his clothes-roughened body pressing so close again, setting off sparks that threatened to singe. His big hands cupped her breasts and squeezed, drawing a low moan as she tried to shift her hips closer to the erection pressing against her butt.

“Please,” she whispered, unashamed about the plea. How had he ratcheted her arousal to such a feverish pitch so fast when she’d been on the brink of panic a few seconds ago?

“I’m not done playing with you yet or cooli

ng you off.” He straightened, released her breasts and coasted his hands down her spine, over her buttocks with small kneading clutches before sliding down her legs to hook her feet around the legs again, leaving her spread and open for whatever he was planning.

Hope’s face heated, whether from the blood rushing downward or picturing those eyes taking in her most private parts, she didn’t know. She felt his thumbs dig into her crack, spread her cheeks then rub against her exposed anus. Mortification, unease and a shiver of excitement tightened her muscles. “What… what are you going to do?”

A sharp slap landed on one buttock and Hope’s startled cry echoed in the silent room. “The next time you don’t address me properly, I’ll withhold your orgasm.”

Shit. There was no way she would risk that, so she sucked in a breath, turned her face around and said, “Sir, please don’t keep me in suspense.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Miles pinched the spot he’d slapped, and the needle-sharp pain zipped straight down between her legs. She turned away from his knowing smirk when his hand cupped her damp pussy.

“You continue to surprise me, Hope,” he murmured.

There was a pause as he shifted, then the trail of a frigid ice cube moved up and down her spread buttocks, numbing her small puckered hole and eliciting goosebumps up and down her entire body. Her head snapped up, her eyes flying open and colliding with the erotic image of her flushed face and dangling breasts in the mirror. “No!” she exclaimed on a shocked gasp when he pressed the cube against the tight rim. Her immediate attempt to shift away from the diabolical intrusion was met with a volley of blistering swats, all on the same spot. Her buttock swelled and heated even as her rectum chilled with the sudden push of the cube inside her. The combination of temperatures threw her into a tailspin of conflicting responses and it wasn’t until the ice was embedded deep inside her and she felt his warm breath on her labia that needy arousal took precedence over the mild discomfort.