Page 77 of Over the Line
Unfortunately, she was already starting to matter to him, and he’d enjoyed all the time they’d spent together—at the river, drinking lemonade, showering, cooking.
He’d caught glimpses of the vulnerable woman beneath her pain, and he wanted her heart and soul laid bare to him, to earn the trust that she’d vowed never again to give.
A loud squeal rent the air.
He grinned. Evidently she’d found the shoes. Her unbridled joy made him smile. Truthfully, he’d do a lot to keep her happy.
While she was still occupied, he grabbed the flogger and a ball gag from a box he’d put together. He laid both on top of the table.
Last night, he’d spent the better part of an hour cutting rope to the length perfect to secure her to the wooden fence. Now he took all four pieces and placed them side by side.
When she rejoined him, shoulders pulled back, chin angled, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, his mouth fell open.
He prided himself on the fact that he had a hell of an imagination, but with Sydney it hadn’t been nearly wild enough. “That’s a hell of a getup, Sydney.” My girl. My sub. The tall red shoes with spiky metal studs on the heels made her calves appear extraordinarily shapely. The full-frontal sight of her nearly did him in.
She’d put a touch of scandalous gloss on her lips, making them appear fuller and more kissable. Her small pink nipples were pebbling beautifully under his scrutiny, and her bare pussy drew his gaze toward the juncture of her thighs. The whole package, including her compact, athletic body, made him glad to be male.
“Do you like the shoes, Sir?”
“Fuck me,” he said.
She grinned saucily. “I think that can be arranged.”
Now who is in control? “I’m going to give Chewie an extra carrot tonight,” he said. “I’m glad she absconded with your sandal.”
“I’m definitely not complaining, Sir.”
He severed the connection of their gazes so he could focus on something other than his physical response to her nakedness. “We need to check off the last box on your ‘all of the above’ answer from the last time you were here. It’s time you were tied to the fence, Sydney.”
Her lips parted and she swallowed a breath. “Yes, Sir.”
That was the tone he needed from her—aroused and compliant.
“Now?” she asked.
“No. Since you’ll be totally tied to the fence, unable to get away, we have a few things to discuss first.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be using rawhide as rope, instead of easy-release handcuffs. It will take longer to bind you and longer to get you out, especially if you panic.”
“I won’t panic, Sir. I’ve been tied before.” Then her gaze landed on the flogger. “Is that the one you sent me a picture of?”
“Would you like to hold it?”
“Do you mind, Sir?”
“I ordered it for you. It’s yours.” He picked it up and offered it to her. “Like the shoes, you’re welcome to take it with you.”
“It’s beautiful. I love the color!”
“I thought it might suit you.”
She took the hilt and shook it, scattering the falls. “The strands are thicker than I’m accustomed to seeing.”
“It’s made from deer hide,” he explained. “The pain is meant to be thuddy rather than stingy. I think you’ll like it. I’ll be able to use it on you longer than I could with any other flogger I have.”
“But I’ll still get marks, right?”