Chapter Four #2
"The kind where I bind your wrists and give you commands. Where you let go and let me take over." I kept my voice steady. "With boundaries and safe words and constant check-ins. Nothing happens without your consent, and you can stop anytime."
"I've never—"
"I know. Which is why we'd talk about it first. Establish your limits. Make sure you understand what you're agreeing to."
She was quiet. Then: "Have you done this before?"
"Yes. After I got out of the service, it was part of working through the PTSD.
Learning to trust someone with power, learning to give it safely.
Someone experienced in the kink community helped me process what I'd been through.
But it's been a while. And I've never done it with someone I actually cared about. Not like this.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
"I care about you," I admitted quietly. "Caring about you makes this different. It means I want you to trust me with more than just your body—your pleasure, your vulnerability, your surrender. All of it."
She was processing. I could see it in the way her breathing had changed.
"What would it look like?"
"We'd start slow. Do you have any silk scarves?"
"Scarves?" She blinked. "I have a few. Why?"
"We'd start with those—softer, less intimidating than the bondage equipment I keep in my truck. I'd bind your wrists with silk. Give you commands. Watch how you respond. Check in constantly. We'd use safe words—red to stop, yellow to pause, green to continue."
"And if I wanted to stop?"
"Then we stop. Immediately. No questions, no judgment. This only works if you feel safe."
She studied my face. "Why bind my wrists at all?"
"Because it requires absolute trust. You're physically restrained, which means you have to trust me to take care of you.
To not hurt you. To stop when you ask." I traced my thumb across her lower lip.
"And because you're tired of always being in control.
Surrendering to the right person might feel like freedom. "
Her breathing had gone shallow. "What would you do?"
"I'd bind your wrists to your headboard with silk. Make you hold still while I touched you. Make you tell me what you want. Make you ask for it properly." My voice dropped lower. "And then I'd give it to you. Just how you need it."
"Rhodes." My name was barely a whisper.
"But only if you choose this. Only if you have faith in me."
Long silence. Her eyes searching mine.
Then: "I want to try."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure I want you. I'm sure I'm tired of being careful and controlled and perfect." She met my gaze directly. "I'm sure I want to know what it feels like to let go."
"Then show me where you keep them."
SHE OPENED HER CLOSET. Pulled out a drawer where several silk scarves lay folded—soft colors, good quality. She selected two. Pale blue, long enough to work with.
"These?"
"These'll work." I took them, ran the silk through my fingers. Soft, smooth, no rough edges. Ideal for a first time.
I set them on the dresser, turned to face her. That king-sized bed with its soft linens dominated the space.
"Ground rules first." I kept my voice calm. "Red means stop immediately—I untie you, we're done, no questions. Yellow means pause—we check in, adjust, but can continue if you're okay. Green means you're good, keep going. Understood?"
"Understood."
"At any point you feel uncomfortable or scared or want to stop, you use red. Don't push through because you think you should, or because you're worried about disappointing me. This only works if you're honest about your limits."
"Okay."
"What are your hard limits? Things off the table?"
She thought about it. "Pain. I don't want to be hurt."
"Agreed. This isn't about pain—it's about surrender and trust and pleasure. Anything else?"
"I don't know what else to say."
"That's fine. We'll figure it out as we go. But you use those safe words the second something doesn't feel right." I moved closer. "Now. I'm going to touch you. If you don't want this, tell me to stop."
I reached for her. Ran my hands up her arms, across her shoulders. She shivered but didn't pull away.
"Take off your shirt."
Her hands went to the hem. Pulled it over her head to reveal a simple cotton bra underneath—pale pink.
"Now the pants."
She shimmied out of the yoga pants. Standing in front of me in matching pink cotton, goosebumps rising on her skin.
I picked up the scarves, moved to the bed. "Lie down. On your back."
She climbed onto the mattress, positioned herself in the center. Her pulse raced at her throat, her breathing quick.
"Arms above your head."
She lifted them. I took her wrists gently, brought them together.
Began wrapping the first scarf around them in a figure-eight pattern—not tight enough to hurt or cut off circulation, but secure enough that she couldn't slip free.
The silk slid smoothly against her skin.
I used the second scarf to tie her bound wrists to the headboard, tested the knots.
"Pull against it. Make sure you can't get free."
She tugged. The silk held firm but gave slightly—enough flex that she wouldn't panic, not enough that she could escape.
"Good girl." I dragged my finger down her arm, watched goosebumps spread. "Now. You don't move unless I tell you to. You don't come unless I give you permission. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
Her breathing stuttered. "Yes... sir?"
Desire shot through me, settled low in my gut. "That's right. Now lie still."
I started at her wrists. Ran my fingers down her arms, across her collarbones. Watched her fight to hold still, her body wanting to arch into the touch. Skimmed down to cup her breasts through the cotton, felt her try to press into my palms.
"Don't move."
She froze.
"Better." I unhooked the bra, pulled it away slowly. "Look at you."
I mapped every inch of skin. The curve of her ribs. The dip of her waist. Her breathing getting faster, more desperate.
Hooked my fingers in her panties and pulled them down, exposing her.
"Rhodes." Her voice was strained.
"What do you need?"
"Touch me. Please."
"Where?"
Pink flooded her face. "You know where."
"Say it."
"I can't—"
I pulled my hands away. "Then I guess we're done here."
"Wait." Her eyes flew open. "Between my legs. Touch me between my legs. Please."
"Better." I skimmed one finger up her inner thigh, close but not where she wanted. "Here?"
"Higher."
"Ask nicely."
"Please touch me higher. Please, sir."
There it was. That surrender I'd been waiting for.
I gave her what she wanted. Slid my fingers through her wetness, found her clit, circled it slowly. Watched her fight every instinct to move.
"You're already so wet for me," I murmured. "Been thinking about this?"
"Yes."
"What have you been thinking?"
"Your hands on me. Your mouth. You inside me."
"Good girl. Now hold still."
I moved down the bed, settled between her thighs. Used my thumbs to spread her open and put my mouth on her.
She gasped, tried to arch up. I pressed my forearm across her hips, holding her pinned.
"Stay still."
I went slow. Used my tongue, my lips, the edge of my teeth. Found what made her gasp, what made her whimper, what made her pull against the silk binding her wrists. Built her up slowly toward the edge, then pulled back before she could fall over. Started again.
She tasted like salt and heat and desire. I worked her with my tongue, learned every response, every sound when I found the right spot or pressure.
"Rhodes, please." Her voice broke. "Please let me—"
"Not yet."
"I need—"
"I know exactly what you need." I added two fingers inside her, curled them to find that spot that made her cry out. Worked her with my fingers while my tongue circled her clit. "And you'll get it when I say so."
I brought her to the edge three more times. Watched her fall apart, begging, straining against the restraints. Surrendered to what I was doing to her.
"Now," I said finally, voice rough. "Come for me now."
She shattered. Cried out, pulled hard against the silk, came apart under my mouth while I worked her through every wave. Mine.
When she finally went limp, I released her hips, moved up her body. Pressed my thumb against her swollen lips.
"Open."
She did. I pushed my thumb into her mouth, and she sucked it without being told, eyes locked on mine. The sight sent heat straight to my cock.
"Such a good girl." I withdrew my thumb, replaced it with my mouth. Kissed her deep and thorough, let her taste herself on my tongue.
When I pulled back, her eyes were hazy with pleasure but also with curiosity. Want.
"Your turn," she whispered.
"My turn for what?"
"Let me taste you."
I groaned, pressed my forehead to hers. "You don't have to—"
"I want to. Please."
That word again. From her mouth, it destroyed me.
I reached up, untied the silk from the headboard. Her wrists were still bound together with the figure-eight wrap, but she could move her arms now. She pushed at my shoulders until I rolled onto my back, and she positioned herself between my thighs.
"Tell me what to do."
"Just take your time. Use your hands, your mouth. I'll tell you what feels good."
She undid my jeans with bound hands—awkward but determined. Freed me, wrapped her fingers around my length. I was already hard, had been since I first put my mouth on her.
"Like this?"
"Just like that. Now put your mouth on me."
She took me in slowly, tentatively. I had to fist the sheets to keep from thrusting up. She worked me carefully, figuring out what I liked, responding when I groaned or when my hips jerked.
"That's it," I managed. "Your mouth feels incredible."
She took me deeper, hollowed her cheeks, and I nearly lost it. Had to reach down, cup her face, pull her away before I came.
"Stop," I said. "I need to be inside you. Now."
She sat back, lips swollen and wet, eyes bright. Still bound. Still trusting me.
I positioned her on her back, settled between her thighs. Lined myself up.
"Ready?"
"Yes. Please."
I pushed inside slowly. Watched her face, watched her eyes go wide, watched her lips part on a gasp. Her pussy so tight and hot around me.
"Look at me," I commanded. "Keep looking at me."
She held my gaze while I moved inside her. Slow at first, letting her adjust, then harder when she started begging for more.
"Touch me," she gasped. "Please, I need—"
"I know what you need." I reached between us, found her clit, circled it while I thrust into her. Built her up again, felt her tightening around me. "Come with me. Right now."
She came apart a second time, clenching around me, and I followed her over. Buried myself deep and let go, my forehead pressed to hers, her bound wrists wrapped around my neck holding me close.
We stayed like that, joined and breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other.
Then I pulled out carefully and reached for her wrists.
"Let me see."
I unwrapped the silk slowly, checking every inch of skin. Her wrists were slightly pink but not damaged. No marks, no irritation. I brought each wrist to my mouth, kissed them gently.
"Wait here."
I went to the bathroom, filled a glass with water, came back. "Drink this."
She took the glass, drank deeply while I watched. When she finished, I set it on the nightstand and gathered her against me, pulled the covers over us both.
"How do you feel?"
"I feel..." She paused, searching for words. "Free. Like I've been holding my breath for years and I can finally breathe."
"Good." I held her close. "You did so well. I’m proud of you, Presley."
"I never knew it could feel like that," she whispered against my chest. "Letting go."
"With the right person, surrender is strength." I pressed my lips to her hair. "You're strong, Presley. The strongest woman I know."
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"You mentioned bondage equipment in your truck. The scarves were wonderful. But is there more? Other things we could try?"
A smile tugged at my mouth. "There's more. Soft braided cotton designed specifically for this—proper bondage work. When you're ready, we can progress to that. But tonight was what we both needed."
"You said you'd done this before. After you got out of the service. Was it... was it like this?"
"No." I held her closer. "It was release without connection. Power exchange with strangers who didn't matter and who didn't know me. It helped me process what I'd been through, helped me learn to trust again. But it was mechanical. Empty."
"And this?"
"This is different. You matter. I care what happens to you." I tilted her chin up so I could see her eyes. "This is about you believing in me to take care of you. And me proving I'm worthy of your trust."
She settled against my chest. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For helping me let go. For making me feel safe."
I held her tighter, buried my face in her hair. For the first time since Jake died, I felt something shift. Not guilt. Not the constant weight of watching for the next threat. Just this—her in my arms, both of us breathing, both of us here.
Maybe that was enough.