Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Raven
Declan runs his palm over my ass, his touch more soothing than it should be.
How is it fair that he does the damage, strokes away the sting, yet I’m the one gasping, arching my back, and lifting my hips, silently begging for more?
“Now I can begin your punishment,” he tells me.
“What the fuck was that then?” I really need to control my mouth.
He gives that low, masculine chuckle that should be illegal. “I told you: warming you up.” His fingers dip between my legs again, and I bite my lip to prevent the whimper that wants to escape. “Warmer, for sure.”
“If you want warm, my ass is on fire.”
“Oh, don’t exaggerate,” he says. “That was only ten.”
Most aggravating man ever.
“First ten I’ve ever had,” I mutter.
Shit. Why did I tell him that?
“You don’t say,” he replies dryly. “And this is why you don’t know the effect you have on me.
” He helps me to stand, and I need it. My legs are wobbly.
Two fingers come up beneath my chin as he tilts my face to his.
There’s only inches between us, his eyes holding mine.
“It amazes me that someone as stunning as you has so much still to discover.”
I look away. “It’s… uh…” Hardly my fault.
“A gift,” he finishes for me.
My eyes snap back to his in surprise. That wasn’t what I expected him to say, not for one moment. “What?”
“And a responsibility,” he continues in that same slow tone, the words almost reverent. “It’s my duty—and my pleasure—to ensure that you now get to catch up.” He doesn’t give me time to process that, but nods towards his bedroom. “In there. Keep the heels on; it’s a good look for you.”
Fuck. Now I have to walk away from him, showing him my reddened ass, each step exaggerating the roll of my hips. And I have to do so, knowing that I’m walking to the punishment that awaits me—when that wasn’t it?
Declan follows at a distance, no doubt enjoying the view and my humiliation. I should be strutting, owning this; that was what I’d come here to do. How long did my courage last? Seconds?
He walks past me and whips the comforter onto the floor, leaving a clean, crisp sheet. “On your back, please.”
The hits keep coming. He’s still fully clothed, and I’m worse than naked, these damn heels making me out to be nothing more than a toy.
Maybe that’s what I am. And I know full well the view I’m giving him as I put a knee on the mattress, crawling on.
I haven’t seen how red my ass is, but I can feel it. I must look ridiculous.
From behind me, he lets out a long, slow breath. “Fuck me,” he mutters, half to himself. “Most dangerous woman I’ve ever known.”
Me? Naked and vulnerable and dangerous?
There’s a hell of a lot I don’t understand about sex.
I turn to my back, lying down, trying to get comfortable, the cool sheet a welcome balm on my bruised skin. He’s watching. No, he’s staring, a hunger in his eyes as his gaze roves over my body. I can’t meet his eyes, and I bite at my lip, glancing away.
“God,” he breathes. “I love it when you do that.”
I wasn’t aware I’d done anything. “Do what?”
“Bite your lip. Blush and look so goddamn helpless. Like you’re just waiting for me to pin you to that mattress and fuck you into it.
” His eyes meet mine, steady and consuming.
“You’re the most infuriating, contradictory, compelling woman I’ve ever tied to my bed.
And you lie there like you’re prey, pulling at the predator in me. ”
Wait. Shit. What?
“Prey?” I’m not prey. I blink at him. “Tied?” I should’ve led with that.
“Mmm-hmm.” He crosses to the dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out a bundle of rope, tightly wrapped, with a strand around it that he tugs free. It spills open in his hands.
“The hell—?” I begin. “Declan…”
“Don’t move.” His voice cracks out. “Not unless you want to make your punishment worse.”
I hadn’t realized I had, but I’ve sat up enough to have to sink back down into the mattress. I swallow nervously. “I’ve… um…”
“Never been tied up before?” he finishes with a smile, prowling toward me with the rope in his hands.
“No,” I mutter weakly. I can’t look away from the rope. “Wait. How do you have rope?” I blink, focusing on him. “Why do you have rope?” And who the hell else has he used it on?
“Hands on the headboard, please,” he says, putting a knee on the bed next to me.
Please. Like this is somehow civilized.
“I don’t want to be tied up.”
“And yet it’s happening. You’ll get hurt less if you cooperate.”
That is not the right answer. “Declan, no.” I make to push myself up, but his hand snaps out, finding my throat. It closes around my skin with a gentle pressure, and he leans in.
“Try me, Hellcat,” he whispers, voice low. “Please do. I would love the opportunity to punish you more than I already intend to.”
I can feel my pulse beating a hundred times a second beneath his grip. It’s like his eyes are digging into my soul, and he’s close enough that I can inhale his scent. There’s no leather masking it, but no cologne either. Just his clean, natural musk; so familiar after all the time in my apartment.
The images of him naked in my shower push their way into my mind, and that doesn’t help one bit.
But I summon the dregs of my strength, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I can. “I said no. I don’t want this.”
“We’ve had this conversation, remember?” He pushes me firmly back down. “Reach your hands up.”
I cling to the remnants of my pride—which is hard to do when I’m lying here in just a pair of heels, and he’s still fully dressed. “Not until you tell me why you have rope.”
His mouth curls at the corners, like he’s remembering something that amuses him.
“Because I bought it,” he says. “After your last visit.” He looks down at the bundle in his hand.
“This is something I’ve been thinking of for a while.
Something I’ve been wanting to do.” His gaze comes back up. “Something you need.”
I should be scared, but the only thing I can think of is, “You bought it for me?”
“Yes, I did. It’s brand new.” He holds up a loop or two, like I’d be able to recognize unused bondage rope from one that’s tied down all his past love interests.
But now that he mentions it, it does have a sheen, looking so smooth it’s almost like silk.
And it’s not one bundle, like I’d thought, but a collection of various separate strands.
“I couldn’t stop thinking of the way you first came undone around my cock, like you’d never had an orgasm before. There’s so much more to show you.”
I swallow hard, pressing my thighs together. “So you’ve not…” Tied up that woman who was in here. Or the other one. Or any others, for that matter. “…used it before?”
He tilts his head. “Rope, or this particular rope?”
“This rope,” I reply, frowning at the wider implication.
“Raven…” He releases my throat and grips my chin instead, turning my face so I’m looking at him directly.
“For the I-don’t-know-how-many times, there’s never been a woman like you.
I’m not seeing anyone else, I haven’t seen anyone else in months, I don’t want to see anyone else.
And I haven’t tied up anyone in…” He pauses. “Six years?”
Six years. The same age as the girl I saw.
He goes still, watching me, and only then do I realize I tensed.
“What happened six years ago?” he asks.
He thinks it’s me, not him. He thinks there’s some trigger there.
But luckily, there is. “That was when I left my home,” I tell him. “With… uh…”
“Following your first boyfriend?” Declan draws the conclusion I want him to. “Did he ever tie you up?”
“No.” Not even close.
Declan nods. “I hate him, but I’m also strangely grateful to him, because without him, I’d never have met you.”
An interesting way of looking at it. And maybe I should stop caring about the woman in Thousand Oaks, when he’s just told me there’s no one else in his life. It’s clear she is in his life, somehow. The jewelry was for her, but… this rope is for me.
And I know which I prefer.
I make a decision, reaching up the headboard.
His eyes light up, and he gives me a smile. “Thank you.” His smile turns playful. “Although if you want me to force you, that could be fun too.”
He coils rope around my wrist before I have a chance to reply or change my mind, drawing it snug. It’s soft against my skin, not rubbing or digging in like I expected. He binds my other hand too, and I close my eyes and draw a breath, trying hard not to struggle. Why am I letting him do this?
Because he wanted to. Because you trust him.
Do I, though?
It takes him barely a minute, the rope whipping back and forth as he winds it through the bars and ties something intricate I could never hope to undo.
“Where did you learn to do this?”
He doesn’t look away from what he’s doing. “Marines, right?”
“Uh… yeah?”
“All that time in the rigging. I picked up a few things.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but he just chuckles and tucks the trailing loops out of the way. “I’ve picked up lots of things over the years, and you don’t have to worry about from where. You just have to lie there, and let me show you.”
Fair, I suppose. We all have a past. Maybe his is less fucked up than mine.
He sits back, eyeing his handiwork, then pulls out another strand from the bundle. “Spread your legs.”
I knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier to obey him. And it’s not like I have a choice, not anymore. Not when I’ve come this far, and my wrists are bound. Yet I still can’t bring myself to do it.
“Biting your lip again,” he murmurs. “Fuck, that makes me hard.”
I’m lying here naked and that makes him hard?