Page 126 of At Her Pleasure

“Bring me two sets of handcuffs, Mick.”

During the drive, she’d considered her options in the limited space. So as he retrieved her club bag from where it had been stowed, she was already changing the height on the table, raising it.

She took the cuffs from him before she stepped out of reach. “Take off your shirt, and put your chest on the table, hips to the edge.”

After he pulled off the shirt and laid his upper torso on the table, she noted he could manage it with a slight bend of his knees. It was why she’d adjusted the table to the height she had. That position would get uncomfortable over time, but not too much for the period she intended him to be in it.

She clicked a cuff over one of his wrists and pulled his arm out to the edge of the table. She let the free cuff dangle and did the same to the other arm on the opposite side. He had his cheek against the surface, his eyes tracking her movements. She scraped her nails over his back, watching the muscles respond, his shoulders flex. He shifted his legs, drawing attention to his delightful ass, but she held off on her desire to fondle, for now.

Pulling a coil of rope from her bag, she ran one end through the empty cuff on the left side of the table. Going to one knee and ducking under, she pulled the rope over to the other dangling cuff and drew it through until the bright orange band she used to tell her when she’d reached the mid-point of the rope was centered.

When she drew out the slack, the chain clanked against the table as she pulled his arms out further. She knotted the rope, then tossed the two ends on the seat cushion. Emerging, she retrieved those ends. As she did so, he perused the stretch of her upper torso, the curve of her ass.

“I should blindfold you,” she said.

“You’re mean.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

A smile touched his lips, though his gaze remained steady upon her. Intense. He’d be expecting where she’d take this. He’d be wrong. Anticipation was building inside her as she crossed the rope ends over his nape and shoulders, taking them through the cuffs, which made their hold on his wrists tighter, having to share that space with the rope. She brought it over his lower back and waist. One more loop under the table to hold down his hips, bind his thighs, and she slid what remained between them, back to that first knot under the table.

As she cinched it, it brought the rope against his denim-covered testicles, enough pressure and separation to get his attention. She put her hand there to confirm it, petting and pinching the firm sac. She heard the chain rattle again, felt the quiver of his inner thigh muscles against her wrist.

The table’s support pole was more than sturdy enough to hold him. Even a man as strong as Mick wouldn’t get it to budge if he yanked against it, though he could probably rip the tabletop loose. The way she’d bound him, it would be difficult to get the leverage, but she wouldn’t discount the possibility. The man was strong.

But he would only do that if he felt that threatened, or wanted to take the fight to that level.

“During the time we’ve been apart, I’ve been becoming the Mistress you really need. Which means ignoring what you want.”

He didn’t need physical pain, not right now. He needed something far worse, more excruciating. Thinking about how much more gave her gut a hard kick. She wouldn’t want to face what she was about to do to him.

Except she was going to. With Mick, nothing felt separate. Not what she did to him, not what he experienced and gave back to her.

Putting her hand in the center of his back, she slid it down toward to his waist. A caress. “Such a beautiful man. Such a gift.”

She spoke sincerely. Gently. Reverently.

Mick’s gaze rolled around like a horse who’d just discovered he was shut in his stall with a wolf. As her hand moved over the curve of his ass, sliding into a jeans pocket to massage and enjoy, she leaned forward and kissed his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever I want, Mick. You’re mine. Your heart, your soul, your body. You said so. Shut the fuck up and let me enjoy them, or I’ll gag you.”

The cuffs scraped on the table as he shifted, but she ignored that. She put her mouth on his upper torso…everywhere. Soft, teasing licks and kisses. So slow and easy. Taking her time. Not once did she use her teeth. She murmured to him, told him how remarkable she found him, how much she wanted him, how much she needed him.

With every kiss, every loving word, the violent energy in him grew. When she glanced toward his face, his eyes were blue warning lights. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Stop.”

“You have a safe word,” she said indifferently. “Use it.”

Though if he did, she was going to ignore it. Far as I’m concerned, CNC is status quo for us. She’d take him at his word. If he used a safeword, it wouldn’t be a medical emergency. It would be his attempt to control things, stop where the session needed to go. Where he needed to go.

She intended to cut him open. When the poison poured forth, he’d be waterboarded by his feelings. She was going to let him know she had him. All of him.

“What do you know about sadists, Mick? Tell me.”

His lip curled, showing a hint of those gritted teeth. “You latch onto what your sub doesn’t want. What he fears most. I told you I want pain. Not fear.”

“And I told you I don’t give a shit what you want. This is what you fear. Gentleness. Kindness. You didn’t expect to ever have to put up with this from me, did you?” Her tone got cooler. “But I’m not here to perform for you. You give me all of you, or nothing. What I want is what matters. Ask me what I want, Mick.”