I hadn’t seen a razor in days, let alone used one, so I started to panic when Keir spread me wide.
If he saw something he didn’t like, it sure didn’t show. His mouth was on me in an instant, licking and sucking at my center with such dedication, my brain short-circuited.
“You say you know me …” I murmured distractedly. “Then you know … I’m fucked up.”
“Aren’t we all?” He dragged his bottom teeth gently up my slit, then nipped at my clit with exquisite delicacy. “If you only knew the depraved things I wanted to do to you, you’d understand.”
I opened my eyes, my stare colliding with his. “Show me,” I breathed.
His eyes dilated until only a sliver of turquoise remained. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that. You like to feel in control, Rowan. I want to take it from you.”
My heart skittered in a frantic dance devoid of rhythm. “Show me,” I repeated more firmly. Even though his proposition terrified me, I wanted it more than anything.
“Don’t move.” His words caressed my skin with their dark promise.
He was gone for several minutes, his absence stoking my anticipation to maddening heights. When he returned, he held a bundle of yellow utility cord in one hand and what looked like a spatula and a pair of scissors in the other. Nerves clamped down on my lungs, but just like the day I met him, I wasn’t scared. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.
“Come here.” Keir placed the scissors on the dresser and watched me inch forward with a predatory glint in his eye. “This nylon rope isn’t ideal, so we’ll have to be careful not to give you burns. Lift your arms.” His voice grew ragged as freshly mined granite.
With deft hands, he slid sections of rope through his fingers until he was satisfied with the length. The cord was relatively new but still more abrasive than the silk variety would be. I sort of preferred it that way. This strange connection forming between us was raw and unrefined. It seemed only fitting the physical binds be the same.
Keir positioned himself behind me, bringing the rope around my ribs and securing it somehow at my back. “Turn to your left.”
I did a small circle. Every nerve in my body focused on his touch as he guided the rope under my breasts. Once I’d performed a full turn, he worked the rope at my back, then nudged me to continue turning, this time guiding the cord to rest just above my breasts.
Everything about the process felt intimate and erotic. Even without the power dynamic driving up the intensity of this shared experience, the emotional vulnerability alone would give me pause if it were anyone but Keir standing before me. With him, I wasn’t embarrassed or uncertain. How could I be when he watched me with such ardent concentration? The molten desire swirling in those turquoise depths made me feel priceless. The Mona Lisa come to life.
I completed several more turns, the rope wrapping around my body in different ways each time until my chest was a zigzag of yellow cord, save for my breasts. They were squeezed plump from their confinement like roses blooming from a vase, a centerpiece to be admired.
Being on display made my nipples almost painfully erect. Even more surprising was the thrum of pleasure I experienced from the coarse texture of the rope. It was abrasive. I probably shouldn’t have liked it, but I did. A lot. The hint of burn stirred a heat deep in my belly.
“How does that feel?” Keir asked, pausing to meet my eyes.
I was so breathless with sensation, I struggled to speak. “Good … it’s good.”
He hummed his approval, then wrapped my upper arms to secure them at my sides. Each of his movements was quick and confident in his technique, which made me endlessly curious as well as jealous. This wasn’t his first time wielding a rope. I abhorred thinking of him doing anything so intimate with anyone else.
“You’re doing so well, Rowan.” He came to my front, admiring his work. Every inch of my skin flushed from his praise. “Lie back on the bed.”
I did as I was told, somewhat awkwardly since my arms had limited use. Once I was situated, my breath hitched in my throat to see him kneeling above me.
“Bring your hands to your ankles.”
The movement opened me to his sight. He took full advantage, unapologetically staring. One scalding hand slid down my shin. “What we’re about to do is all about trust. Your control lies in your trust of me to respect your limits and take care of you.”
“And what do you get from this?” I asked curiously.
“I told you. Your trust.” He began to tie my hand to my ankle, avoiding my wet bandage, then did the same for the other side until I was rendered completely immobile.
If a heart attack could result from sheer exertion, my whirring organ was dangerously close to that limit. I took a slow breath through my mouth.
Keir’s guttural rumble of approval kissed my ears and warmed my insides. “You’re stunning, little lamb.” He sat back and admired his work before easing off the bed and coming back with the spatula. He assessed the black plastic, rolling it around in his hands. “Again, not ideal, but it will serve its purpose.”
“Which is?” I breathed.
A wicked glint flashed in his eyes. He didn’t answer, not verbally. Instead, he turned the utensil around and holding the spatula part, brought the rounded handle to rest in the middle of my chest between sections of rope. Slowly, he dragged it down and over to my right breast, circling the rounded mound in a spiral, inching closer to the taut peak.
I couldn’t explain it, but something about his use of an object rather than his own hands was even more electrifying. An uncertain edginess that heightened the anticipation.
I arched as best I could in my confines, silently begging him to ease the ache in my nipples. He understood. His hand cupped my breast, enveloping all but the tip. Then he pulled his hand away, fingers cinching around my nipple at the last second. He gave it a sharp tug that had me seeing stars.
A mewl clawed its way past my lips. I’d never made a more wanton sound in my life.
Keir’s mouth lapped at my nipple, soothing the pebbled flesh with his tongue. “When we get home, we can try out clamps for these.” His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin, sending another bolt of desire to my throbbing clit.
Moisture dripped from my entrance. “I need more, Keir. Please.”
His lips curved up with satisfaction as he brought the spatula handle back to my middle, dragging it down until he reached the top of my slit. I quit breathing entirely when he dipped the cool plastic lower.
“I’m going to give you everything you need, Rowan. Will you trust me to do that?”
I nodded eagerly, no hesitation.
“Such a good little lamb.”
The spatula handle crested my entrance. Watching him fondle me with something not meant for that use felt so damn taboo and erotic. I’d never experienced anything like it. When he started to stroke himself, I thought I’d lose my mind with desire.
Was it possible to come without a single touch to my clit? The sight of his tattooed arm, muscle flexing with each pump of his thick shaft, was about to test the theory. I was so perilously close to release that I could hardly believe it.
My inner muscles spasmed angrily. I gasped. “Keir, please!” I whimpered.
Then the handle was inside me. It felt foreign yet satisfying, easing the aching need I had to be filled. Keir fucked me with the plastic spatula, his other hand stroking the sides of my clit between his fingers. He used my body in the most delicious way, and I was helpless to stop him. Not that I wanted to. The powerlessness allowed me to let go of my objections and simply receive the pleasure he gave.
He took me to the brink, then moved his focus to my aching breasts, giving my core time to cool before lowering himself to lick at my entrance. Again, he teased me to the point of excruciation but stopped just as my legs began to twitch and tremble.
“No! Please, I need to come.”
“And you will … with my cock inside you.” Finally, he aligned his body with mine, waiting until our eyes were locked before rocking himself deep into my sensitive channel.
Something profound was happening between us, and it had nothing to do with the delicious way his cock filled me. This was something intangible. Something transformative.
“Fuck, you squeeze me so good.” He kept his body low so that each increasingly urgent thrust brought him in contact with my clit.
I was back on that cliff’s edge in an instant, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes in anticipation of falling off. “Yes, Keir. Yes, just like that.”
“Milk my cock, Rowan,” he commanded. “Show me this body is mine.”
A scream tore past my lips.
My body ignited, every cell filling with radiant light.
“That’s my girl. My wife. You’re mine, Rowan Byrne. All. Fucking. Mine.” He growled those last words through clenched teeth as his body coiled tight. At the last second, he pulled out and stroked himself as warm jets of cum decorated my breasts and belly. I fought for awareness through my orgasmic haze, enthralled with his show of possession and devotion. I couldn’t ever recall feeling so acutely desired.
With our shuddering breaths filling the silence, Keir leaned forward and placed a reverent kiss on each of my kneecaps, then swiped a finger gently through his cum on my stomach. His gaze briefly cut to mine before he lowered his hand and rolled the digit around the inside of my entrance. Marking me.
As if I wasn’t already his in every way that mattered.
I wasn’t sure how it had happened, but it was true. Keir Byrne had captured what remained of my heart and held it captive in the palm of his hand. And the scariest part was, I wanted him to have it.
“I’m famished, and if I don’t get some coffee soon, I’ll get a headache later.” I put on a clean shirt and dug through my suitcase. We’d taken a quick shower, replaced my bandages, and were now approaching late morning.
“Should we do breakfast or go find lunch somewhere?”
“Either works, but after that …” I paused, not sure how he’d feel about what I was going to say next. “I think it’s time for us to go home. I know you aren’t a fan of Stetson, but I feel like I owe him an apology. And most importantly, that woman desperately needs our help. We need to deal with all this. We can’t hide forever.” And I had intentionally ignored the fact that I’d been missing school. I could only worry about so much at once.
Keir appeared in the doorframe to the bedroom. “Technically, we could. I could make us both disappear, but I know that’s not what either of us wants.” He stepped closer and opened a small canister of ointment. “Your hand,” he murmured. He coated my tattoo with salve, but I’d swear it was my heart he was healing. “I’ll make the arrangements to fly home tomorrow.”
I nodded, my throat impossibly tight. “Thank you.”
As if I needed more evidence that I was falling for Keir Byrne. He stirred to life feelings I hadn’t even known were possible. I’d thought what I felt for Stetson was love—maybe not deeply romantic love, but still a form of affection. Now, I couldn’t imagine how that was possible when my feelings for him were faded, pastel versions of the vibrant hues I felt developing for Keir.
He was so much more than I ever expected. Passionate. Loyal. And even tender when he wanted to be. But what would that mean for my family and me? He was still a criminal.
Is that really how you see him? Because I think he’s a hell of a lot more than that.
Damn, even Ivy sounded disappointed in me.
Of course not, V. But no matter how gallant he is beneath the surface, it doesn’t erase the ugly truth of his profession and the dangers involved.
Stetson isn’t a criminal, and you still ended up in danger. Sometimes the scariest monsters hide in plain sight.
She was right.
This world was drawn in shades of gray. All I could do was look at my priorities and decide how dark I was willing to go.
For Keir, I might erase the scale entirely.
