Bound Beneath His Pain: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel (22 page)

The soft light coming from the bedside table illuminates Allie, casting her body in a mesmerizing glow, and she belongs to
me.
The silky strands of her hair hang near the sides of her breasts, tightening my groin against the surge of desire encasing me. Her taut nipples tempt me to devour her until I get my fix.

I grasp her chin; her baby blues to my gray. “When you look at me with all that sweet innocence”—the long, unsaid truth rushes from my lips—“it tempts me to steal it away.”

She holds my stare intently. “You can’t steal something when it’s freely given.”

I don’t fight the emotion rising in my throat, when her naked skin presses against mine. I know I’m right where I need to be. My greedy cock jerks against her belly, desperation to take her overwhelms me. I need to get inside her, possess her, control her pleasure. But I force myself to step back and reach for the black hemp rope.

She wants to play. Maybe she hopes this will save me. Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. But there isn’t a chance in hell I’ll refuse her. The power inside me purrs, relishing her allowing me this right.

I drag the soft strands through my fingers, making a cuff, encouraged by the dilation of her pupils. “Offer your wrists to me, love,” I order.

“Like this?” She lifts her hands.

“More like this.” I bring them closer and a little higher, placing them together, teaching her how I like things. She’s holding her breath when I place the cuff over her wrist, but she shivers nicely when I pull the rope tight. I add the next cuff to her other wrist, and she gives me a delicious hard shudder. I can’t hide my grin, knowing she’s likely never seen it, not this unleashed. “Your reaction is unexpected.”

“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 until 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.

But not tonight.

The leather tails tap against her shoulders once more, leaving them beet red before I focus on her bottom, bringing all that delicious heat there—to where I want her sensation to go. My cock is suffering, so desperate for
her
touch, as I endure hearing her soft, sensual moans.

Each swipe of the flogger floods me with my own sense of pleasure, and I want to keep going, never stopping until I reach her limits, but I spot her hard quivers before I hear the cracks in her moans.

I won’t push her, not tonight. This is a taste. I want her to want
more.

I toss the flogger to the ground and grab her hips, flipping her onto her back.
Those eyes
…I have to see them. The moment I do, I
need
to be deep inside her, owning her.

The way she’s staring at me now is something different—something so pure and beautiful it should be untouchable. Yet somehow it’s
mine.
I reach back for the condom she’s left on the bed and my hands are shaking as I sheath my rock-hard dick.

I don’t wait.

I can’t.

I nudge her thighs open for me and enter her in one swift stroke. Her shout of ecstasy slides over me in a sizzling embrace, and I grind my hips, pressing my weight on her, holding her pinned beneath me. Hot pleasure seeps into my body as I ride her hard—harder than ever before, to bring us both to orgasm. I don’t need hours to fuck her. I simply crave to fuck her right.

I want to possess her body.

I need to mark her soul as
mine.

My cock hardens with my thrusts and those pretty eyes are huge and glassy, not even seeing me. Her chin angles up, her inner walls become a vise grip around my shaft. I’m staring at her, knowing the battle is lost to us both. We fought the end, not wanting the moment to vanish, hoping this feeling could go on and on.

But I needed her, and she loved me.

With one final thrust, her eyes clear and she’s all I see—all I know—as we both give in and crash over the edge together, leaving me bucking and jerking, roaring out my release.

Then it’s just us, sweaty skin, fulfilled promises, and healed hearts.

Many more moments pass, while I’m breathless, resting my forehead on hers
.
“I get it now,” I eventually say.

“Get what?” she whispers, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath mine.

“Your secret.” I move away, looking into those soulful eyes that somehow shredded me to pieces and rebuilt something better in its place. “Love, that was the secret you seemed to keep hiding from me, and that I so desperately wanted to find out. That’s what you knew all along, isn’t it?
This, us,
it’s love, and all I had to do was see it
.
”

She gives me the only answer she needs to.

Her smile.

One month later, I’m staring at Micah and Darius from my kitchen, watching them chat away as I fill my wineglass to the rim. Micah joins our Sunday night dinners now, and my brother is changing in ways I never imagined. He hasn’t asked me a single financial question in the past month, nor does he bother me about the remaining money in my trust fund. Our conversations are more normal than they’ve ever felt before.

It’s a good change.

I stick the cork back into the wine bottle, regarding them closely. Regardless, it’s all weird that I know things about Darius that I truly don’t want to know, I try my best not to think about him owning a sex club or his involvement in the darker delights of sex, because there’s something special in the way Darius and Micah interact. They share a closeness that I like.

I’ve never really seen Darius like this—so at ease, so comfortable.

Even so, I’ve never asked my brother or Micah more about the DC than what I learned from Juliet. Micah made a vow of secrecy to protect those in that particular group, and I feel to ask him to break his promise makes him choose between his word and me. And the truth is, I don’t care. The past is the past. I have Micah’s future, and so far that future has been introducing me to the absolute best sex of my life, so full of love.

I return the wine bottle to the fridge and join the men again, taking a seat beside Micah on the couch. This is my last night of being in my condo. Tomorrow, Micah and I will live together at his home. I look around at the boxes of all my belongings, not with sadness, but happiness that we’re taking a big step now, instead of baby steps. Marriage doesn’t seem so far away, and that feels great, making me realize how good things are between Micah and me, when it definitely hadn’t been easy getting to this place in our lives.

I glance between them, sipping my wine, listening to them chat away, completely unaware I left and came back into the room. I haven’t gotten a word in for the last fifteen minutes, but I understand why the tension is thick in the air when I look at the two ripped-out magazine articles from the tabloid
Gotcha!
on my coffee table
.
The first headline reads:
Can Micah Holt be forgiven for the ultimate betrayal? Or will Allie Parker come between two billionaires?

That article isn’t the first time I’d been mentioned in the tabloids in an odd way. I glance at the very first article that I was mentioned in a month ago, with the tagline that reads:
But could this fairy tale end is disaster? Our sources tell us that the real estate mogul has got himself a forbidden treasure.
Both Micah and Darius are staring deeply at the articles, and I’m sure they are starting to realize the shit-storm we’re in.

Darius finally breaks the silence. “Maybe we’re looking into this too deeply.”

“It’s right there in front of us.” Micah snorts, leaning back on the couch, placing a hand on my thigh. “I don’t think it’s possible to look too deeply into it.”

“I have to agree,” I say with a long sigh, pulling my legs up beneath me, leaning into Micah. “There’s something really off about the articles they’re writing. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that
this
is what they’re focusing on.”

Both men look at me, but it’s Micah who asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I continue, waving at the magazine clippings, “why would they even assume that Darius is pissed about us being together?”

“Because I was.” Darius grins.

“Yes, I know,” I say to my hotheaded brother and then add, “but like I told you before, don’t you both think it’s strange they’re focusing on you, instead of me and Micah?”

Micah arches a brow. “You would rather they dig up dirt on you?”

“No, of course not, but isn’t that what tabloids do?”

Darius narrows his eyes, pondering, then nods. “You’re right. It is odd they aren’t focusing more on you, and I also don’t like the fact that they’re printing true facts, instead of lies.”

Because that means someone is
telling
them these truths. “Which can only mean…”

My doorbell suddenly rings, and I startle, nearly spilling my wine.

Micah chuckles, taking the glass from me and putting it on the coffee table. “Expecting anyone?”

“Not that I know of,” I reply, moving quickly toward the door.

When I whisk it open, seeing a face that normally would make me so happy, my mind goes instantly blank. I’m speechless, not able to even begin to process the view in front of me.

Taylor is standing on the other side of door, and obviously she’s been either walking in the rain or standing outside for a while, because water is dripping off her nose. She gives a small smile. “Is that room still available?”

I blink, but it doesn’t fix what I’m seeing. Black-and-blue bruises cover the side of Taylor’s face. “What happened to you?” I whisper.

Tears well in her eyes. “I left him.”

My mind snaps into focus and I lurch forward, wrapping my arms around her. She’s shaking against me and sickness is rolling through me. I should have seen this. I should have known. I should have gone to her and helped her. But her hug tells me she doesn’t need
should-haves
from me.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been holding her when Micah’s soft voice fills the air. “Allie.”

I turn, holding Taylor, but allowing Micah to see her. They’d met each other over FaceTime. He always made sure to say hello to her if we were talking. But Taylor had not looked like this.

Micah’s gaze sweeps over Taylor’s face, eyes blaze red-hot before he controls his emotions and says gently, “Who did this to you?”

“I’d say someone who loved me.” Taylor wipes her tears, cringing at the obvious pain near her bruised eye. “But I think it’s very clear he has a warped version of love.”

Micah’s pulsating protective energy is nothing compared to the state of my brother. He steps in next to Micah, neck corded, nostrils flaring. “The man who did this to you…” His eyes are only for Taylor. Totally fixated on her. “He’s a dead man.”

Not a statement.

A promise.