Dillon's Claim (10 page)

“Is it...always like this for
you?” she managed, nervous yet curious as to exactly how far he took the
dominance thing.

“No, not always. Just when I
feel like playing.”

She had a feeling he liked to “play”
a lot.

One dark eyebrow arched in a
silent taunt. “It’s not too late to back out.”

He thought she’d chicken out?
She raised her chin and fought the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m not afraid.”

A slow grin, pure masculine
confidence and sex appeal. “Yeah, you are.” He settled one hip on the bed next
to her. When she flicked a glance down at the restraints and then back at him,
his lips quirked. “Pick a safeword, then.”

She licked her suddenly dry
lips. This was moving a lot faster than she’d expected. She’d thought he’d ease
her into it more. “Red.” That was standard, wasn’t it?

Dillon nodded, smoothed a hand
over her hair, and drew his fingertips across her cheek as he held her stare. His
touch eased some of the nerves, made her want to lean into him in a silent request
for more. She’d never get enough of him touching her. “I’m driving,” he said in
a low voice, “but you’re holding the emergency brake. You use your safeword, I
stop. No matter what. You have my word.”

Why did that ironclad vow make
her heart flutter? “Okay.” Her voice sounded unsteady, but she couldn’t help it.
Part of her couldn’t believe she was actually going to go through with this. Dillon
wouldn’t actually do something that would make her need to use her safeword,
would he?

He held out a hand. “Give me
your arm.”

Gathering her courage, she
raised a wrist and offered it to him. Only a slight tremor in her hand betrayed
her disquiet about being bound for him. Dillon took her hand between his, the
leather cuff brushing over her skin as he bent and pressed a tender kiss to her
palm. The soothing gesture helped slow her pounding heart.

While his lips played against
her flesh, he buckled the cuff into place with practiced fingers. The black leather
was soft and pliable around her wrist, snug enough that she could feel its grip
but not tight. When he reached for her other arm, this time she didn’t struggle
with herself and gave it to him willingly. She watched as he attached the other
cuff, then checked to make sure it wasn’t too tight.

Without pause, he leaned over
her and positioned her arm up and out to the side. She turned her head in time
to see him snag something he’d attached to the slat of his wrought iron headboard.
A metallic snick, and her wrist was cuffed to a short length of chain.
Swallowing, she flexed her arm experimentally and found she had only a few
inches of room to move. He was tying her down, but not completely immobilizing
her. Thank God. She didn’t think she could have handled that.

Dillon took her other wrist,
and she resisted for a second before consciously forcing herself to relax and
give him her hand. He clipped the second cuff to the short length of chain at
the opposite site of the headboard and sat back to examine his handiwork.

“I’ve wanted to do this since
the day I met you,” he said, his eyes full of repressed need.

“The first day?” she asked
weakly, trying to slow her racing heart and ignore the building apprehension that
crept through her veins. Fear of the unknown, more than anything else.

“And every day since.” His
eyes burned like blue flames.

“Oh...” Damn. Good thing he
hadn’t told her, or she’d have bolted right then and there, rather than later.

Placing his hands on the
mattress at either side of her head, Dillon leaned down and kissed the tip of
her nose. “You’re mine. And I take very, very good care of what’s mine,” he
whispered as his mouth sought hers.

A delicious tremor ran through
her when their lips touched, the heat of arousal beginning to build again. Her
lips parted for the stroke of his tongue, the thrusting motion making her pussy
throb and ache, getting her wet and ready for him. After a heart-pounding
minute, he pulled back.

Unease gripped her when he
wrapped his fingers around one of her ankles and tugged. She’d been hoping he’d
only tie her hands for this, but she realized it wouldn’t be enough for him. Nothing
short of her full surrender would cut it.

Reluctantly she straightened
her bent knee and allowed him to secure the cuff around her ankle. When he
pulled it toward the right side of the footboard, she clamped her legs together
so that he took both feet with him.

Saying nothing, Dillon brought
a longer length of chain up from the floor and hooked the cuff to it. She
flinched at the metallic click, her heart drumming hard and fast in her throat.
She’d never had her feet tied, too. It meant she’d be completely at his mercy,
and that she had no choice but to trust that he’d obey the safeword if she used
it.

I’m okay. I can do this.

But despite the brave words, when
his hand closed on her free ankle, she instinctively resisted. She needed more
time to ease into this—wasn’t ready to surrender all her control yet. Dillon
looked up at her, the heat in his gaze searing her as he maintained steady
pressure on her foot, refusing to allow her to back down but waiting for her to
relax and give in, his strong hands warm against her chilled skin.

She swallowed. The brightness
of the room bothered her. If it had been darker, she might have felt more
comfortable. Being naked and spread-eagled for his inspection made her damned
nervous. It made her feel exposed and threatened to break through the sensual
haze she’d started to drift in.

As though he sensed her
unease, Dillon smoothed a palm up her calf, over her knee and thigh. A tender,
soothing stroke meant to relax her, reassure her. But she couldn’t give in yet.
She trusted him, though her mind and body rebelled at the thought of being
rendered so completely powerless to him. Once he secured her other foot she
wouldn’t even be able to squirm away or kick at him if he lost control. The
muscles in her legs locked tight, an invisible hand squeezing the air from her
lungs.

Dillon continued to hold her
gaze, keeping the pressure on her ankle steady, not letting her retreat but not
yet forcing her to comply. After a minute, she realized what he was telling her
without words. He was waiting because he wanted—needed her to submit to this.
Needed her to willingly put herself in his hands. He wouldn’t force her to do
this, but what he truly wanted from her was total surrender.

Faced with the enormity of it,
she wasn’t sure she could give him that much.

Taking a deep, calming breath,
Charissa pushed aside the fear and self-consciousness. Dillon would never hurt
her; she knew that on her most primal level. Forcing her rigid muscles to
unlock, she finally allowed Dillon to part her legs and spread them to clip the
last cuff to the bedframe.

“That’s my girl.”

The approval and respect in
his tone helped dull the sharp edge of fear, but didn’t erase it completely. The
position left her completely exposed to his gaze, the folds of her wet pussy
open for his intimate inspection.

Despite the dark thrill of
knowing she’d finally taken the leap into the unknown, a bubble of panic
surfaced. She was trapped. The tightness in her chest increased, her pulse
thudding hard against her throat. Instinct made her arms and legs yank against
the bonds, but she got nowhere. The delicate chains clinked with each struggle,
sounding like gongs to her over-sensitized ears. Her breathing turned shallow,
her skin grew cold and clammy.

Oh, Jesus, she was stuck like
this until he decided to release her. What if he didn’t stop? What if he didn’t
let her up?

A hard male palm settled on
top of her sternum, jerking her out of her frantic thoughts. “Breathe,
sweetness. I’m right here. Just breathe.”

Focusing on his low voice and
the feel of that anchoring hand, she closed her eyes and wrestled her respiration
back under control. After a few moments, the jagged edge of panic faded away. Her
heartbeat rattled in her ears. Dillon’s hand caressed the center of her chest
in a slow, gentle circle, chasing the fear away.

She was okay. He wouldn’t hurt
her. If she used her safeword, he’d stop.

“There we go,” he murmured in
approval as she settled and relaxed under his touch.

Her head was spinning. So many
thoughts and emotions were running through her that she couldn’t keep track.
Part of her gloried in the sensuality of the moment, in the knowledge that she
was at his mercy and she’d pleased him by giving in. Another part kept
screaming that she must be insane to go through with this after that awful
experience with her last lover. She wanted—needed—to believe this time would be
different.

Please let this be okay.

“Look at me.”

Her lids flew open. Dillon was
watching her intently, his palm gliding in soothing circles across her skin. As
he stroked, the heat began to flow out from his palm to her breasts, making
them tingle and swell. Her tight nipples throbbed in anticipation, waiting for
his touch. For the feel of his mouth closing around them. She arched her back
in silent invitation.

With a slow smile, Dillon
leaned down to kiss her lips, stealing his tongue across the seam before
gliding inside. Her pussy quivered in reaction. Her fingers curled into fists,
wanting to touch him, have something to hold onto. The steady pressure of the
cuffs around her wrists reminded her she couldn’t. The realization both frustrated
her and made the inner fire burn hotter.

His lips and tongue traced a scalding
path over her throat to her breasts. While his big hands cupped the tender
mounds, his thumbs swept across the aching nipples and his mouth drew closer
and closer to them. Shifting restlessly, she arched her back as much as her
bonds allowed, the muscles along her spine straining with the effort. In answer,
Dillon rubbed his cheek against her breasts and opened his mouth over one hard
peak. Heat engulfed her.

Charissa gasped and tugged at
her restraints as sensation arrowed from her nipple to her pulsing clit. She
wriggled her hips as he sucked first one nipple, then the other. Pulling
rhythmically with his mouth, his tongue gliding across the hard points. Back
and forth, back and forth, until she was trembling all over, liquid with
pleasure.

But instead of kissing a path
down her belly to her needy pussy, Dillon sat up and undid his jeans. The
zipper made a rasping sound as he drew the tab down, and she craned her head up
to see the thick length of flesh he released. She bit back a moan at the sight
of his cock, all hard and swollen, the head wide and flushed. More than
anything she wanted to crawl over and take him in her mouth. Taste him, make
him writhe.

One side of his mouth quirked once
he finished stripping off his pants and underwear and turned back to her. He
fisted his cock, his thumb resting beneath the flared head. So damn hot. “Like watching
me, sweetness?”

Oh, God.
“Yes.” That
breathy admission didn’t even sound like her. But Jesus, he was so sexy like
that, completely comfortable with his nakedness and unapologetic about taking
charge of his pleasure.

Her starving gaze riveted on
the length of dark flesh in his hand. He dragged his fist up the shaft slowly,
stroking all the way to the flared tip before following it down to the base.
Her mouth watered. Her hands pulled at the chains holding her captive. She
shifted restlessly, trying to ignore the desperate pulse between her splayed
thighs. “I want—”

“To suck my cock.”

She nodded, not caring how
bright she was blushing. She was so turned on right now. The thought of sucking
him off made her bite back a moan. She’d wanted to do it last night, but never
got the chance.

His hand made another pass
over the straining shaft, pausing to caress the sensitive head as he stared at
her with glowing eyes. A low growl slipped from his throat. “God, you’re so fucking
sexy spread out for me like that.” He shifted on the bed, settling on his knees
beside her head. Immediately, she turned her face toward him, craving the taste
of him. Wanting him in her mouth. With one hand holding his cock steady, he slipped
the other beneath the back of her head to steady her and brought the swollen tip
to her lips.

The melting heat in her pussy grew
even worse as she stared up into his eyes and slowly licked the taut head.
Dillon’s eyes heated, the hunger there transforming into a raging inferno. He stayed
absolutely still as he cradled her head in his palm and offered his cock, the
only other signs of arousal the glitter in his eyes and the flaring of his
nostrils. He didn’t push his way in or demand she take him deeper—he merely
supported her head and allowed her to take him as she wished. Dying for a
better taste, wanting to rattle his iron control, Charissa parted her lips and
took him into her mouth.

Dillon groaned softly and
caressed her scalp as he stared at his cock entering her mouth. She sucked
slowly, drawing the moment out, savoring the hot salty flavor of him. Loving
how hard he was and the gentle way he held her head. Her tongue swirled at the
underside of the wide crown, her lips giving him firm but tender suction,
showing him exactly how much she loved going down on him.