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A Bound Short

Bronwyn Green

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Copyright © 2017, Bronwyn Green

Edited by Jessica Bimberg and Kris Norris

Cover Art by Kris Norris

Published by Bronwyn Green

Released December 2017

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author, Bronwyn Green.

Table of Contents

The Bound Series by Bronwyn Green & Jessica Jarman

Blurb

Dedication

Post Script

Excerpt from Bound: Rewritten

Excerpt from Bound: London Bound

Excerpt from Bound: In Bounds

About the Author

Also by Bronwyn Green

What’s hotter than sexy accents, BDSM, and a bit of rope?

Not much.

Enjoy the Bound Series

London Bound by Jessica Jarman

Drawn That Way by Bronwyn Green

The Professor’s Student by Bronwyn Green

Nothing Serious by Jessica Jarman

Out of Sync by Bronwyn Green

In Bounds by Bronwyn Green

COMING SOON

Executive Positions by Bronwyn Green

Ask Me Anything by Jessica Jarman

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Somehow, the gift for the man who has everything ends up being exactly what she needs.

Dedication

To Jessica Weare who’s fighting the good fight and advocating for women—especially women in tech. Thank you for your voice.

To Pansy Parsons who uses her love and mad yarn skills to make the world a better place for kids who need a warm hug. Thank you for your kindness.

To Jennifer Connor who uses her platform (and no small amount of snark) to highlight awesome romance novels and help crush the associated stigma of enjoying romance. Thank you for your support.

The three of you have made the past year better on personal and professional fronts. Thank you all for being you.

To Jess, Norris, and Jen—this last year has been...something. Thank you for both holding my hand and smacking me upside the head when I needed it. I love you guys.

Post Script

Eliza Burrows tucked her cream-colored blouse into her narrow black skirt and smoothed out any wrinkles as she checked her appearance. She leaned closer to the mirror, twisting her hair up under the unforgiving hotel lighting and securing the simple updo with a few pins. They needed to get down to the lobby—their Lyft driver would be here any minute.

Movement in the mirror caught her attention, and she met her husband’s gaze in the glass as his hands settled on her hips, drawing her back against the unyielding strength of his body. His ink-dark eyes glittered with heat as he held her motionless with his gaze and the tightening of his fingers on her body.

He dragged his lips up the side of her neck and skimmed the shell of her ear. “You know this prim librarian look makes me want to absolutely wreck you on my cock, right?”

Her eyes drifted shut, her head dropped back onto his chest, and she pushed her ass against his rapidly hardening groin. His breath caught, and her lips twitched as she fought a smile. “I’m counting on it.”

His fingers bit into her flesh then he spun her to face him, trapping her between his hips and the counter. Her entire body turned liquid in the face of his desire. Even after almost four years together, he still took her breath away every damn day.

He slid one hand up and over the curve of her hip to her waist and lifted the other to cup the back of her neck and drag her forward. Lowering his head, he caught her lips and kissed her hard. Delving into her mouth, he kissed her until she was nearly breathless and clinging to him, his cock pressing insistently against her.

He rested his forehead against hers and brushed his thumb back and forth across her tingling, likely swollen lips. “When we get back tonight, plan on flying, little bird.”

Arousal trembled through her middle, and she squeezed her thighs together. She knew he’d make good on his promise, but it wouldn’t happen here. Her stomach twisted with nervous anticipation. Their destination would be one of his many surprises, tonight.

His hands moved to her chest, and he started undoing the buttons lining the front of her blouse. He bent his dark head, and his lips followed the path of his fingers, caressing her exposed skin as he moved inexorably downward. Her nipples had hardened into aching little points, greedy for the heaven of his mouth. Her hands fluttered slightly, then she closed her fingers around his wrists. She wasn’t sure if it was to stop him or urge him to move faster.

He tugged down the lacy cup of her bra, exposing most of her breast and its tautly beaded tip. As he closed his mouth over it and drew on it, her phone chimed with an incoming text.

“Ignore it,” he murmured after raking his teeth across her distended flesh.

“Can’t,” she gasped, clutching his shoulders as he sucked harder. “Sarah’s thing. Don’t wanna...be late.”

Her text tone chimed again, and she groaned, reluctantly releasing him as she groped unsuccessfully for her phone.

Pulling off, he brushed a kiss across her lips. He grabbed the device and handed it to her, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Sure we can’t be a little late, lass?”

God, she wanted that—she wanted him. But who was she kidding? She always wanted him. But since he was to be the surprise guest of honor at Sarah’s party, they couldn’t be late. She glanced at her screen. “The car’s here. We have to go.”

She quickly texted the driver that they’d be right down as Angus tugged her bra back into place.

“Pity. There go all my plans to debauch you.”

She groaned. That thick Scottish accent of his still made her panties wet more often than not.

“I’ll have you know I’m completely open for debauching after dinner.”

He held her gaze as he buttoned up her blouse, eyes dancing. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

She smacked his shoulder. “Jerk.”

“Spoiler alert.” He snaked his arms around her waist and drew her flush against him. “I’ll always have time in my schedule for all the debauching you require.”

“Promise?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

His expression softened, and he smiled. “Always.”

Twenty minutes later, they were traveling toward the cancer center where Sarah, Angus’ reader-turned-friend, had received the treatments that had saved her life. When the three of them had first met, he’d been struggling to finish the final book in his series, Eliza had been assigned as his assistant, and Sarah had just begun chemo. Now, she was in remission. As thrilled as they both were for Sarah, Eliza knew that it was still a little bittersweet for Angus. His brother hadn’t been as lucky.

Angus slid his arm around her and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple while Christmas songs softy played on the radio.

“We’ll be there in about five minutes, folks,” the driver said.

As Eliza acknowledged the man, Angus tensed. She angled her body toward him and laced their hands together—palm to palm. “Hey,” she murmured. “You okay?”

He met her gaze and nodded tightly. “It’s just...” He shook his head.

She squeezed his hand. “I know.”

And she did. He’d confided in her of his hated of treatment centers—not for the work they did—but just the sensation of being there. Even though he communicated monthly with the facility that had treated Ewan to make sure their patient library had all the newest books, movies, and games, Angus hated to physically go there. Remembering how hard his brother had fought, and how in the end none of it had mattered—being there dragged all those raw emotions back to the surface.

But even so, he’d refused to miss Sarah’s celebration. Eliza just hoped he wouldn’t be too uncomfortable with what Sarah had planned for him. But, they’d all find out soon enough.

Angus Domhnull shifted in the back seat of the hired car and tugged his wife closer. Thank fuck for Eliza. He wouldn’t be holding it together near as well without her. Hell, he wouldn’t even be here without her. His Dark Nebula Rising series wouldn’t be finished. It certainly wouldn’t have been made into a TV show. And he sincerely doubted that he ever would have met and kept in touch with Sarah without her. Eliza was his everything. She always said he was her rock, but he knew damn well it was the other way around. He’d be fucking lost without this woman, and he knew it.

Far sooner than he would have liked, they’d pulled into the circular drive of the cancer center, and he found himself in what looked like a library or media room filled with people and tastefully understated holiday decorations. A twinge of loss hit him as he stared at the greenery and twinkling lights—it was impossible not to think of Ewan. It was a week before Christmas, and his brother had loved the holidays like no one else. He used to spend months planning the perfect gifts for those he loved. Angus would complain that Ewan treated gift giving like it was a competitive sport, but secretly, he’d loved it.

Even if the holiday music and glittering ornaments hadn’t moved his brother to the forefront of his mind, being here at the treatment center would have been more than enough to dredge up memories. It was clear from their brief trip through the soaring lobby that this facility had far more money than the one where Ewan had sought treatment. For the briefest of moments, Angus wondered if money had anything to do with the difference in his brother’s outcome versus Sarah’s. But he knew that wasn’t how it worked. Not only had Sarah and Ewan had different types of cancer, Ewan’s illness had been too far gone by the time it was diagnosed.

Angus took a slow, deep breath, and Eliza looked up at him, her green and copper eyes shimmering with concern. “Do you need to step outside a minute?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Sarah flew up to them and hugged them both. She was still incredibly thin, but her skin was brighter, and her pale blonde hair had grown back in tight spiral curls. She was looking more like a healthy college-student than he’d ever seen her.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She tugged them both toward the front of the room. “There are seats for you up here.”

“We can sit in the back—” he began, but Sarah was shaking her head while she continued to drag them forward.

As soon as they were seated, Sarah walked to the front of the room and joined what turned out to be one of her doctors and a center director. Angus tuned out most everything until Sarah took the mic to speak, and Eliza slid her hand beneath his and laced their fingers together.

“In addition to celebrating my remission—” she waited while the clapping and cheers died down, “—we’re here for another important reason. When you’re fighting cancer, a lot of things are stressed—strength, positive attitude, prayer, knowledge—but I want to talk about something that I don’t think gets enough attention. And that’s escape.”

Sarah looked right at him, and he had a sinking feeling he knew where she was going with this.

“I’ve always loved to read. But after the diagnosis, it became even more important to lose myself in other worlds. I needed to escape the constant tests, biopsies, and endless nausea and exhaustion from the chemo. I needed to be able to step away from my own life and into someone else’s.”

She made eye contact with Eliza as she spoke, and Angus knew that Eliza must have shared part of her own story with Sarah.

“Sometimes, it’s enough to escape into a book or movie or game that you love,” Sarah said. “Because those things help give you the strength to keep fighting.”

Eliza glanced at him, and he suspected they were both remembering when she’d admitted to him that the stories he’d written, years before they’d ever met, had saved her life. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers.

“And sometimes,” Sarah continued, “you keep fighting to stay alive long enough for your favorite author to finally finish the story you’ve been waiting for.” She winked at him, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“This center is amazing—the doctors, the nurses, the therapists, all the staff is phenomenal. But as fantastic as this place is, it doesn’t offer its patients much in the way of escape. As a way to help give back, I wanted to do something about that. I hope you’ll all indulge me for a moment and watch this short presentation.”

He cringed as his face flashed on screen, along with pictures of his books and a voiceover explained how he and Sarah had met. There were photos of visits he and Eliza had made to Sarah, photos of the care packages they’d sent over the years, and one of Sarah smiling brighter than the sun, clutching the draft of the final manuscript he’d sent her as soon as it had been finished.

Sarah’s voiceover continued. “Even with the best forms of escape, not everyone makes it, though.”

Angus’ throat thickened, and his eyes burned as pictures of him and Ewan filled the screen, and Eliza’s hand tightened around his.

The photographs gave way to video of the sound stage where Dark Nebula Rising was filmed. He glanced at Eliza, who was watching him intently, then he turned back to the screen. The camera panned around the writers’ room, where it looked like nearly all the staff from actors, directors, makeup and props and everyone in between had gathered. And there were stacks of books and movies and tablets and games.

Jessica, the woman who played Zarah, stepped forward and said that, after Sarah had approached them, they all wanted to help her build the center’s library in memory of Ewan, as well as donate to the library Angus had established in Ewan’s name in Glasgow.

And finally, the scene changed to the conference room at Terra Ink where his editor Barbara, Greg, Terra’s editorial director, and the rest of the staff gathered behind of a table loaded with books and more tablets.

The video finished with images of cancer patients reading and playing games, but Angus barely saw any of them. The pictures of Ewan were still floating in the forefront of his mind, and he blinked back tears. Eliza was wiping her eyes, as were a number of other people in the room.

Sarah had the mic again, and she looked directly at him. “If it’s okay with you, we’d like to call this Ewan’s Place.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he nodded. Like he’d say no, but god, the loss stabbed so fucking deep tonight.

Somehow, he made it through the rest of the dedication and the meal that followed, deftly avoiding questions about Ewan and the next season of Dark Nebula Rising, but eventually, it got to be too much.

Eliza slid her hand to his thigh beneath the table, and he turned to look at her. She searched his face. “You look like you’re really getting stressed out.”

That was putting it mildly. He was agitated as fuck, and he’d had all he could handle of polite conversation and never-ending reminders of his brother.

“Why don’t we say goodnight to Sarah now and sneak out before the servers come back with dessert?” Eliza suggested.

He glanced around the room, the urge to run growing stronger by the second.

“We can always see if she’s available to get together some time before we head to the airport,” Eliza offered.

By the time they’d finished saying goodbye to Sarah and her mother, Angus was ready to lose it. He practically dragged Eliza outside and away from the lobby doors.

When he stopped, she turned to face him, resting her free hand on his stomach. “That was more intense than I expected. Maybe I should have given you a heads-up.”

He shook his head. “Sarah needed to do that for her as much as she needed to for me. It’s just...everything. But it’s fine.”

“I’ve already contacted Lyft,” she murmured, looking up at him, her auburn hair glinting under the lights lining the building’s sidewalk. “They should be here soon. We can go back to the hotel. Maybe take a swim, or you can go for a run if you need to.”

Her concern for him emanated from her words, her eyes, the way she clutched at his shirt. He didn’t deserve this woman, but there was no way he was ever letting her go. The agitation washing through him turned darker, more intense as he stared down at her.

“Or we could just go to sleep—whatever you need.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Whatever I need?”

She nodded, her eyes wide. He cupped her face, tilted back her head, and whispered against her lips, “What I need is you.”

She opened beneath him as he delved into her mouth, holding her still beneath his onslaught. Her hands clutched at his sides, urging him closer as she melted against him.

What he needed was to lose himself in her soft, willing warmth. He needed to focus on her and let her be the sum of his reality for a while. He needed to push them both past the point of no return. His hands slid down her body as he gathered her closer. He brushed his lips across her ear, and murmured, “Ready to fly, little bird?”

He smiled as she shivered in his arms, but it faded as she slid her hand between them and palmed his rapidly hardening prick.

“Does that mean debauching me is back on the schedule?”

A car approached, slowing as Eliza turned, subtly brushing her arse across his cock. He leaned forward as the car stopped. “Should I send pre-consolatory bottles of wine to the nearby rooms to apologize for the noise?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, heated mischief bright in her eyes. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh?” he asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. His wife was a lot of things, but quiet wasn’t one of them.

“Nope.”

She looked entirely too pleased with herself as she slid into the backseat of the hired car. Leaning forward, she showed the driver something on her phone. The other woman nodded as he slipped in next to Eliza and surreptitiously dragged his fingertips along the top of her thigh, his lips lifting as she took a shuddering breath and leaned back against the seat.

“So, no hints?” he asked.

She slowly shook her head.

It was clear, when the driver headed deeper into the city, they weren’t going back to the hotel right away. Even if the drive hadn’t given it away, Eliza nervously jiggling her foot would have. He laid his hand on her knee, stopping her motion. She glanced at him, and he could see her flush beneath the intermittent streetlights.

“Is this nervous excitement?” he asked, tracing patterns on the inside of her knee. “Or just nervousness?”

She squeezed her knees together, trapping his hand when it started to trail higher. “Mostly nervous excitement.”

“Mostly?”

She shrugged but didn’t say anything more as the car pulled up to what looked like a row of old Art Deco-style buildings that had been repurposed into modern businesses, and the majority of them seemed to be closed for the evening. The one they stopped in front of had no signage, and the windows all appeared to be dark.

Eliza thanked the driver then scooted out the door.

Angus followed her, tucking her into his body. “This looks...ominous.

She paused and glanced up at him. “If you’re still looking to wreck me on your cock, it’s exactly what we need.”

His stomach dropped, and he suddenly had a very good guess about where they were. After everything she’d been through with her walking wankstain of an ex, Angus couldn’t believe she’d brought him here—to the type of place that had been one of her hard limits when they’d first gotten together. “Eliza, you don’t have—”

She laid her fingers across his mouth. “Not have. Want.”

Eliza tried to quiet her rioting nerves as they approached the heavy wooden door of the club. What she’d told Angus was true. She knew that he’d enjoyed the club scene, and since they’d been together, he hadn’t gone. But she didn’t feel like she had to come here, she wanted to. She’d missed it, too. But more than anything, she wanted this with Angus.

The door opened, and Eliza held out her phone and let the man in the ridiculously expensive suit scan the code from her email. Her friends, Stina and Audrey, had recommended this club and had vouched for her and Angus which was how she’d managed to get a visitors’ pass so quickly—days instead of weeks.

They were ushered inside where much of the 1920s- and 30s-style décor had either survived or had been meticulously restored. It somehow coexisted peacefully with the pulsing electronica played over the sound system and the moans and cries of various guests. Eliza’s stomach tightened with anticipation.

A blonde woman approached. “Ms. Burrows and Mr. Domhnull?” Eliza nodded, and the woman smiled. “Welcome to Blue Heaven.”

“Thank you,” they said at the same time.

She gestured for them to follow her. “I’m Jenna. I believe we spoke on the phone. If you need anything at all during your visit, just ask for me.” As they walked toward the main area of the building, she said, “Your room is being readied—we’re a little shorthanded, tonight.” She nodded toward the exhibition floor. “Some of our staff was needed for demonstrations.”

Eliza’s gaze skimmed over the different stations filling the large, dimly lit area. There were several St. Andrew’s crosses in the middle, with assorted couches, chairs, spanking benches, bondage tables, stocks, and cages spread out around the room. Her gaze landed on a woman chained and writhing to a bondage table while her partner flogged her. Eliza might have whimpered. Okay, she’d totally whimpered, and judging from the way Angus settled his hand on her waist and stepped close enough that his erection was obvious against her ass, he’d heard her, too.

Eliza had thought being in a fetish club after what had happened with her ex might make her anxious. But after so long away, it was excitement more than unease that scratched at her skin. Though, she suspected that had far more to do with Angus than with time healing all wounds and all that.

Jenna cleared her throat. “If you’ll give me your belongings, I’ll lock them in your room while you’re checking out the public area.”

Eliza and Angus handed their coats to Jenna, and she pulled a keycard from her pocket and passed it to Eliza.

“The private rooms are located around the perimeter of the main room. Yours is number nineteen. When the light above the door turns green, the room is ready, and you can enter.”

“How very Gatsby,” Angus murmured.

Eliza snorted and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Technically, it’s more Daisy.”

“She’s not wrong.” Jenna grinned. “If you two decide you’d also like to play in the public space, you’re more than welcome to. The room is yours until two a.m., and the boxes you requested will be waiting for you on the table just inside the door.”

Eliza nodded her understanding. They had at least six hours, then.

After Jenna headed toward the room in question, Eliza turned and handed the keycard to Angus. Like most women’s clothes, her stupid skirt had no pockets.

Angus pocketed it then rested his hand at the small of her back. “Lead the way, lass. You’re in control here.”

She glanced up at him.

“For now,” he amended.

His dark tone slithered through her, nestling warmly in her aching pussy as she moved nearer to the flat bondage table where the woman was still being flogged. Angus stepped close behind Eliza and splayed his hand over her stomach as they watched the sueded-leather tails lash the woman’s olive-toned skin, reddening her breasts, belly, and thighs. No matter how much she begged, her partner seemed to be purposely avoiding her pussy.

Longing uncoiled through Eliza’s body, and she groaned as Angus pulled her back against him, his fingertips skimming the top of her mound through her skirt. “Wishing you were bound to that table, little bird? Your cunt dripping down your thighs? Needing to come?”

A shiver worked her at his lust-deepened voice. His Scottish burr was always stronger and far more apparent when he was aroused. She pushed her ass against his cock. And he was definitely aroused. “Out in the open? Not a chance. In room nineteen? Definitely.”

They both glanced toward where the red light still shone above their door before turning their attention back to the restrained, pleading woman. Her Dom continued to lash her while she begged to be allowed to come.

Across the table, Eliza met the eyes of a man whose Domme had bent him over a padded bench. The woman wore a huge purple strap-on, and she burrowed the lubed tip between his ass cheeks. Eliza’s breath caught as the woman began to shove into to him. His eyes closed, but Eliza couldn’t tear her gaze from him—from the expression of strangled bliss on his face.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

“Oh, I plan to, lass,” Angus breathed into her hair as his fingers crept up between her breasts and began to unbutton the delicate fabric of her blouse. “Need to touch you,” he muttered against her neck as he pressed needy kisses along her flesh.

The man draped over the bench had opened his eyes and was following the movements of Angus’ hands as he spread open her blouse while his lover slowly pumped in and out of his ass.

Angus’ breath was hot against where it hit her. “Need your skin.”

She nodded her permission, but he paused, staring at the man and woman across from them.

“Look at him watching us—watching you.”

Eliza shivered at the heat in his voice.

“I think he needs it, too,” he continued, cupping her lace covered breasts. A few years ago, she never would have allowed herself to even consider what he was suggesting, but now—with him—everything had changed. Despite all that had happened, she was safe with Angus in a way she never had been before. She nodded again.

Without warning, he yanked down her bra cups, exposing her tits to anyone who might be looking their way. Her nipples ached, stabbing desperately into the air where everything had become stimuli—the throbbing music, the scents of leather and lube, sweat, and sex, the cries of pleasure and pain, the hunger and need all around them—especially in the eyes of the man staring at her.

Angus plucked and twisted her nipples, pinching and tugging, while Eliza’s gaze darted between the woman being flogged and the man getting pegged. Nearly everyone’s attention was on him. His partner started fucking him faster and deeper. Eliza groaned at the look of agony-tinged ecstasy on his face.

“Like that, little bird? Like watching him take her up the arse?” Angus’ hand skimmed over her stomach. “How wet does that make you?”

Her hips jerked forward, seeking more contact.

“How wet is that tight little cunt of yours?”

She turned her head to the side and sank her teeth into his earlobe then released him. “Why don’t you see for yourself if you’re so curious?”

He froze for the briefest of moments, and she knew she’d shocked him. Then he was dragging her skirt up her trembling thighs. She tried to focus on anything else. If she thought too much about what he was doing, she might freak. She glanced around the room. There were two women off to their left—one in a chair and the other on her knees licking the other’s pussy. The man lashing the woman on the table was jacking himself with one hand and flogging her with the other. There were easily twenty or thirty people watching the scenes play out, watching the guy getting pegged, and watching Angus bare her thong-covered pussy.

He groaned as he cupped her. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Her hips jerked against his hand as he yanked aside the fabric. The woman wearing the strap-on held Eliza’s gaze as she grabbed her partner’s hair, yanking his head back as she spoke into his ear. Both of them kept their eyes glued to her and Angus as he lazily stroked her cunt.

“Looks like someone’s about to come.” He guided her attention back to the flogging scene. “But it had better not be you.” His voice had tightened, and his warning was clear even as he shoved two fingers into her slick flesh, but her attention was riveted on the table in front of her.

The man with the flogger must have decided to take pity on his partner because he brought the leather fronds down with unerring accuracy across the woman’s exposed pussy. As she screamed out her climax, the man dropped the flogger and jerked off, splattering his thick release all over her lash-reddened cunt and the insides of her thighs, and she and Eliza both jerked helplessly as his spunk hit the woman’s skin.

A tortured groan drifted to Eliza, and she raised her gaze to the man and woman across the way. His eyes had closed, but when the woman spoke to him again, they snapped open, snaring Eliza until she was helpless to anything but watch them and ride Angus’s fingers.

“Don’t you dare come, Eliza.” With his other hand, he gripped her underwear and tugged up, adding a sawing pressure against her clit. “Don’t do it,” he warned again.

“Yes, Sir.”

The woman held her hand in front of her lover’s face, and he obediently licked her palm and fingers. Reaching around him, she gripped his cock and began stroking in time with her thrusts. Eliza rocked against Angus’ hand as she watched the man’s face crumple in pleasure as he shuddered, coming hard. She had to dig her nails into her thighs to keep from peaking, herself. She’d waited too long for this night with Angus. She wasn’t going to ruin it by coming too soon. But fuck, it was hard.

“Such a good lass,” he whispered raggedly against her ear.

He started to withdraw his fingers, but she grabbed his wrist. “Stop.”

“Troubles?”

“If you don’t want me to come yet, you just need to stop moving a minute.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying her consternation, and his amusement only grew with her scowl.

“Sadist,” she muttered.

He flexed his fingers inside of her, and her breath caught. “Aye, but you love it.”

She did, but that was beside the point. Finally, she reclaimed control of her rioting body and allowed him to remove his hand.

After he’d sucked her juices from his fingers, he said, “I didn’t want to spoil the show earlier, but the green light has been on for a while, now.”

Shivering from both arousal and the enormity of what she was about to do, she led Angus to room number nineteen and followed him inside, wanting to see his reaction to what she’d chosen.

His gaze darted everywhere. The en suite bathroom on the far side of the room. The massive four-poster bed set with restraint rings and leather cuffs dangling from ropes. A huge mirror on the wall across from it. The freestanding swing in the corner. And the thing that made her stomach tumble and her pussy clench stood in the center of the room. An arched bondage table fitted with leather cuffs for wrists and ankles.

He turned to her, the heat in his eyes nearly making her come on the spot. “I want you on that table.”

“I need to give you something first.”

Nerves jangling, she walked farther into the room and picked up the thinner of two red gift boxes from the table and handed it to Angus. Curiosity clear on his face, he lifted the lid and took out the consent form, his eyes widening as he scanned the document. He kept glancing at her—and around the room, no doubt looking for the recording equipment—as he read. When he finished, he set the box and the waiver aside, crossed to her and pulled her into his arms.

“I don’t want you to feel like any of this is anything I need.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious, Eliza. The only thing I truly need is you.”

“I know.”

“When I think of everything he put you through—” He shook his head, looking nearly as stricken as she’d ever seen him.

She put her hand on his chest. “If you don’t want to record this because you’d be uncomfortable, I absolutely respect that. But if you’re declining because of me, don’t.” She hated bringing her ex into the conversation—especially since she and Angus had spent the last few years embroiled in legal action against him. But she needed her husband to understand. “He took so much from me—things I thought I’d never have again—things you’ve brought back to me. Now, I have a chance to take another piece back.”

His expression softened as he stared at her, and she felt the love he had for her. Saw it in shimmering in his nearly black eyes. She was the luckiest woman on the planet.

Also,” her lips quirked, “I think it would be hot to watch later.”

Unmistakable heat flared in his gaze. “You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Stina swears by them, and Audrey has thoroughly vetted the club.”

“Good enough for me.” He returned to the box and picked up the pen. “As long as you’re sure.”

“Wait!” He froze, searching her face as she moved to the door and activated the recording switch hidden in the doorframe. “They need to make sure all participating parties are actually signing the agreement of their own free will.”

Angus offered the pen to Eliza then added his name beneath her signature.

As soon as he was finished, he tossed aside the pen and grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and shoving her up against the wall. It was amazingly easy to ignore the fact that there were strategically placed, motion-activated cameras and mics all around the room when he looked at her like that.

He shoved his hands into her hair, loosening the pins and destroying the carefully arranged style.

“Been dyin’ to do that all night,” he murmured against her lips before overwhelming her with a barrage of kisses. He palmed her still-bare breast, pinching and tugging at her nipple while she squirmed, trying to get closer.

“On your knees. Wanna to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

The last was practically a growl, and Eliza dropped her knees and tore at his button and zipper, more than a little needy for his cock. Shoving down his pants and underwear, she grabbed his hard, thick length and wrapped her fingers around the base, squeezing slightly before engulfing his slick head. She swirled her tongue around him before swallowing as much of him as she could.

“Such a greedy girl.”

She whimpered, clutching at his thighs and ass, trying to urge him deeper.

“Hands behind your back,” he snapped.

With a groan, she did as she was told, locking her right hand around her left wrist.

Angus fisted her hair on either side of her head, tugging tightly as he fucked her face. “Who decides how much cock you take?”

She tried to answer, “you,” but he shoved in harder and deep enough to gag her. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she loved every thrust—wanted more.

“I didn’t hear you.” He pulled out, the wide head hovering just outside her lips.

She swallowed thickly. “You, Sir.”

He shoved back in again, cutting off the last of the word and bringing more tears to her eyes, but she still sucked and stroked, wanting to bring him off. Wanting him so wild he spurted across her tongue and down her throat.

Inhaling sharply, he abruptly released his hold on her and pulled from her mouth. She lost her balance slightly, lurching forward before she caught herself and sat back on her heels.

Angus kicked off his pants and shoes then stripped off his shirt as he took a couple steps back and studied her, his satisfaction impossible to miss. He tugged her to her feet and brought her to stand in front of the mirror. “Look at the prim little librarian look, now.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “Skirt rucked up. Gorgeous tits hanging out. Hair a mess, and all that mascara running down your face.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, the action completely at odds with his words. “And I haven’t even started wrecking you, yet.”

Eliza drew a shuddering breath as he unfastened her skirt and let it fall in a puddle of fabric at her feet. He dragged her blouse from her shoulders next, lightly raking his nails over her skin. Her bra and panties followed, and she stepped out of her shoes.

“Now, time to see how fucking beautiful you look all stretched out on that table for me.”

It looked as if someone had taken half a wide circle, covered it with padded leather and mounted it on legs. There were some kind of control pedals at the base. She had no idea what they were for, but she was sure they’d figure it out.

With Angus’ help, Eliza laid back against the arch then boosted herself farther so her head dangled upside down—perfect position for more cock sucking—and her arms were stretched up and over her head. Angus quickly secured her wrists in the cuffs then moved to the other end and spread her legs farther while he attached the restraints to her ankles. She was completely laid out and exposed, and she loved it. Loved being bared to him—physically, mentally, emotionally.

From the look of it, he loved it, too. He stood between her open legs, stroking his cock as he surveyed his handiwork. Stepping to the side, he slowly circled the table, dragging his hand up her thigh, along her hip and waist, over her breast. He paused to toy with her tightly beaded nipple—pinching and rolling it the way he knew she liked—and she squirmed as best she could.

On a groan, he leaned over and drew the taut flesh into his mouth, sucking hard. In a frantic bid to get more contact, she arched upward, as far as the cuffs would allow. Chuckling, he pulled off, raking his teeth across the distended nub, while she thrashed and cried out. His hand drifted to his cock again, and he tugged it roughly.

“Fuck, I love seeing you like this—fighting the restraints you’re so desperate for.”

He continued making his way around her, trailing his fingertips up the sensitive skin of the inside of her arm, down to her palm where he bent and pressed a kiss in the center. Then he shoved his fingers into her mouth. She instinctively began to suck on them. He tugged them back and wrapped his saliva-slick fingers around his shaft and stroked it a few times before dragging the damp head across her lips. She opened immediately, and he shoved inside, leaking pre-come across her tongue. Groaning, she swallowed around him. Hanging upside down like this made it easier to take him farther down her throat, and she used that to her advantage. Finally, he pulled away, leaving her more empty and aching than ever.

Angus finished the circuit of the table, coming to a stop where he’d started—between her legs. Leaning forward, he braced his hands on her thighs, pushing them even farther apart, and leaned forward, dragging his tongue through her sopping cleft. Soft and warm, it glided silkily across her clit. There was no teasing—no coy approach—just his gloriously talented mouth right where she wanted it, and fuck, she was close. So close. Until he straightened and stared at her.

His lips and chin were shiny with her juices, and he grinned, looking entirely too pleased when she started begging him to finish her off.

“Why?” she gasped. “Why did you stop?”

“I’ve got you strapped down, at my mercy, and we’ve got this room for hours, yet. Why wouldn’t I drag it out?”

She groaned and thunked her head against the table.

“Besides, look at this mess you’re making. Your cunt is dripping down your thighs, dripping all over the table. Are you meant to be rewarded for that?”

“I feel like I should get something for all the teasing you’re doing,” she groused.

He absently trailed his fingers up and down the inside of her thighs, swirling patterns through the wetness. “It’s a shame I didn’t know to pack toys.”

“If you’d known,” she gasped, “it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise.”

He smacked her pussy in response, and she cried out, pleasure shunting through her body.

“You’re getting to be such a mouthy brat,” he murmured.

“You should probably do something about that.”

He smacked her pussy again—just like she hoped he would. When she caught her breath, she said, “The box.”

He raised his eyebrow and slid a finger into her pussy and began circling her clit with his thumb, tapping it sporadically, while her nerve endings rioted.

“The box?” he asked.

Angus watched his wife’s gorgeous face as she tried to focus. “Eyes on mine, little bird, while you tell me about the box.”

She opened her lust-drunk eyes and stared at him, clenching around his finger. Seeing her like this, stretched and spread—allowing herself to be completely vulnerable to him—made his cock and his heart ache. He loved her so damn much.

“When I interviewed with Jenna on the phone,” she said breathlessly, “she asked me a bunch of questions, and she...” Her voice drifted off as he added a second finger.

“And she...?” he prompted.

“She—she said any bags would have to be checked when we arrived, and I told her that we wouldn’t—” Her words became a moan when he added a third finger.

He pumped in and out, ruthlessly driving her arousal higher. “We wouldn’t what, lass?”

“Wouldn’t. Be. Bringing. Anything.” She forced out each word. He stilled his fingers still deep inside her, and she rushed to add, “She said that based on my answers, she could put something together for us and add a toy package to the reservation.”

“Thoughtful, that.”

“Right?” The word ended on a squeal when he twisted his hand and brushed his fingers across that rough raised spot inside her vagina as he pulled out. “You’re a tease.”

“You know what to say if you want me to stop.” She glared at him as he sucked her arousal off his fingers. “I’ll just go check the other box, then.”

It was probably a good thing he was stepping away for a moment. Her needy little noises and writhing body made it nearly impossible to resist thrusting into her and fucking her until they were both satisfied. But she’d trusted him with this. He wanted to draw it out, make it as good for her as possible.

He found the second box under the first and carefully lifted the lid. There was a cock ring, nipple and clit clamps—they’d play with those later—and something that looked like a cross between a flogger and a whip. There was a little tag tied to the handle that said, Dear Mr. Domhnull and Ms. Burrows, we thought you two might enjoy the dragon’s tongue.

A triangular strip of supple leather—about the length of his forearm—was mounted to a leather-wrapped wooden handle. The leather tongue was maybe three inches wide at the base and narrowed to a fine point. Walking back toward Eliza, he swung it around to get a feel for it then brought it down on the inside of his arm to get a sense of how it would feel against her delicate skin.

She gasped and jerked at the loud slap of leather on skin. He practiced several more times, varying the force of the impact until he was sure he wouldn’t hurt her more than she liked.

Stepping closer to her, he held up the toy in her line of vision, and her pretty hazel eyes widened—their green and copper color obliterated by her expanding pupils. He dragged the butter-soft leather along the insides of her arms, watching goosebumps erupt on her skin.

“Apparently, your friend, Jenna, thought we’d enjoy the dragon tongue.”

He swirled the pointed tip around her nipples, smiling as they hardened. He leaned over and sucked the closest one into his mouth, pulling roughly on it, loving the way it tightened against his tongue. Loving the way she groaned, begging wordlessly for more. Releasing her, he straightened and trailed the leather down her sternum and over her stomach, but he lifted it before it touched her pussy. She was going to have to wait for that.

With the smallest motion, he gently flicked the leather tail against her skin—over her arms, legs, hips, stomach—just the barest kiss of leather until she was squirming in her cuffs. He twisted his wrist and brought the leather more firmly against the inside of her calf. She sucked in a breath, and her body jerked in response. He snapped it a little harder against her other calf. Then, back and forth, he worked his way up the insides of her legs, keeping her on edge. He shifted and hit the outside of her hip. Panting hard, she pressed her lips together as if she could keep from calling out, but she continued to twist, tugging against her restraints.

He let the leather fly against the lower curve of her breast, and the tight hold she’d had on her reactions broke.

“God, yes,” she hissed.

He lightly snapped the nipple on the opposite side, and her response was a wordless cry. He alternated breasts, varying the speed and intensity, as her breathing and vocalizations increased. Walking slowly around the table, he covered her body with the leather, letting her feel its sting everywhere—everywhere but the one place she wanted it the most.

“Please,” she begged.

“Please what, lass?” he asked as he lashed the tongue against her abdomen, the tip grazing the top of her mound.

“Please, more. I need more. I need to come, Sir.” She opened her eyes and met his gaze, pleading.

He continued to rain sharp blows on her skin, watching as it pinkened under his touch. “Are you asking me to use this on your cunt?”

She shivered almost violently, but she held his gaze, letting him see the depth of her craving. “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

He moved to stand near her feet and sprinkled sharp little bites of leather up and down the insides of her thighs—her shiny, sticky thighs—creeping ever closer to her sweet little cunt. Finally, he allowed the leather to touch her there. Her body simultaneously tensed at the impact and sagged in relief, and a beatific smile tilted the corners of her mouth.

He brought the whip down again, a little harder this time. Her smile faded, but her hips lifted into the impact. She was so on edge he knew it wouldn’t take much to send her flying. And he knew how much she needed it—how much he needed it. Tonight had been rough. Pleasing her, losing himself in her, was exactly the balm his soul needed.

Alternating concentration and strength, he stuck her vulva and clit, pushing her headlong toward release, the release she’d been gagging for from the moment they’d walked in this place. A keening cry filled the room as she finally broke, her body stiff and shuddering as her orgasm washed over her.

He dropped the whip and lowered his head to her dripping cunt, lapping up her juices, wanting to prolong her pleasure. He circled her still spasming entrance, teasing and sucking her into another release.

“Fuck, Angus.” She slammed her head back against the table.

“I need in you,” he practically groaned.

“Yes. Please. Please. I need you to fuck me. I need you so bad,” she panted.

There was no way either of them could wait long enough for him to uncuff her. Feeling around with his foot, he found the pedals at the base of the table and pushed the one to the right. A motor whirred to life and moved Eliza to a slightly more upright position. The curve of the table canted her pussy toward him, and he gripped his cock, sliding it through her cleft, bumping her clit with each stroke. He groaned as her wet heat scalded him. It was almost as intense as the look in her eyes as she watched him.

Setting the head of his cock at her opening, he shoved in. The angle, the tight clasp of her body, her sweet cries, the naked want on her face—all of it combined to short circuit his brain. He’d wanted to go slow for her. To make it last, but his body had taken over. He pumped into her hard enough to jostle her, despite her bindings. And her whispered demands for more drove him faster. He wasn’t going to last.

He splayed his hand over her belly, the heel resting above her mound. He could feel his cock shunting in and out of her beneath his palm. The extra pressure turned her demands to wordless begging, and a flush enveloped her body as her release drew nearer.

The tingling precursor of his own orgasm shot down his spine and pooled in the small of his back, becoming nearly impossible to stave off. He ground the heel of his hand on her clit, pushing her past the point of no return. She contracted around him on a scream, rhythmically pulsing and rippling around his shaft, and he was lost. He filled her in shuddering gushes, burying his face in her neck.

There was no sound save their gasping breath, until finally a small laugh escaped Eliza. She pressed a sweet, breathless kiss to the side of his face. “Merry Christmas.”

He lifted his head and brushed her sweat-damp hair from her face and stared into her autumn-colored eyes. “Never doubt that you’re all I want in this world.”

Her eyes grew shiny, and she whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you—so damn much.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “I don’t fucking deserve you, but I’m also not about to let you go.”

She kissed him. “That works out well.”

He carefully pulled out of her body then reached down and unbuckled the cuffs around her ankles, helping her to stand. “How so?”

She winced, shaking the stiffness from her legs and he quickly unfastened her wrist restraints.

On a groan, she lowered her arms and looped them around his neck. “It works out well, because I have no plans to go anywhere. Well...except that bed over there.” She jerked her head in that direction. “And I plan to take you with me.”

There was no place he’d rather be.

Excerpt from Bound: Rewritten

Betrayed and completely exposed, she’d sworn off kink. Hell, she’d sworn off men. But she hadn’t counted on him...

One of the hottest voices in Sci-Fi, Angus Domhnull is renowned not just for his sweeping sagas, but for his stupidly gorgeous looks—and the fact that he’s taken almost five years to finish his latest novel. Now, assistant editor, Eliza Burrows, is stuck minding him, and his brooding nature is pushing every sexually submissive button she has. But even if Angus wasn’t her publisher’s star author, he’d be off-limits—after a painful betrayal, Eliza doesn’t play anymore, and she’s not about to start again with him.

Unable to deliver his long-awaited manuscript, Angus is saddled with a keeper—and her creative input—that he never asked for. Despite the resentment and animosity brewing between them, he finds himself drawn to Eliza. As he learns more about the intriguing woman behind the prickly facade, he falls for her, hard and deep.

When the attraction between them ignites, Eliza lets Angus bring her to one place she swore she’d never go again—her knees. He wants more than just her submission, but her past and the secrets she’s hidden could destroy everything...

“I don’t need a minder.”

Eliza Burrows stared at the top of the man’s dark head, as she waited for him to look up and acknowledge her presence. He continued to tap away at this laptop keys as if she’d already left the room. When it seemed no further response would be forthcoming, she cleared her throat. “I’m not here as a babysitter, Mr. Domhnull.”

“Didn’t ask for you. Don’t want you,” he muttered, never looking up.

“Your publisher—”

“My publisher is a bunch of scabby bawbag sucking skivers.”

Her lips twitched, but she managed not to smile. Barely. It was nearly impossible not to be charmed by his heavy Scottish accent not to mention, amused by his word choice though. Not that he would have noticed as intent on ignoring her as he was.

“Well, that bunch of dirty testicle sucking idiots—or is it layabouts?  Anyway, they hired me to do a job.”

He looked up at that, the intensity in his nearly black eyes almost stealing her breath. Or maybe it was just that he was so much more beautiful than she’d been prepared for. Sure, she’d seen his picture—who at Terra Ink Publishing hadn’t? But photographs had not done this man justice. Thick slashes of black brows sat above eyes so dark brown, it was almost impossible to discern the pupil from the iris. Long lashes framed those bright, dark eyes. Eyes that were currently assessing her. But she refused to let him see any weakness.

Instead, she smiled serenely and continued. “And that job is making sure you attend your panels on time and sober—”

He threw up his hands and leaned back in his chair. “Show up guttered one time, and—”

“And,” she continued, “that you finish your book.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, pinning her with that inky gaze. “So, explain to me again how you’re not a minder?”

She refused to look away.

Angus Domhnull was basically the George R. R. Martin of the science fiction world. Well, the super-hot, sci-fi version of George R. R. Martin, anyway. Angus had been working on the final book in his blockbuster series, Dark Nebula Rising, for almost five years. He’d already blown deadline after deadline, and his fans were getting pissed. But not as pissed as his editor and the powers that be at Terra Ink.

So here she was—glorified babysitter—at least, for the duration of this tour. “Technically, my current job title is assistant editor, but I’ll be acting as your author assistant,” she said stiffly.

“Soooooooooo...” He drew out the word as he shoved his hand through his unruly curls.

“So, fine. I’m your minder.” She straightened her spine. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your hair while you’re working, and to make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be when you’re supposed to be there.”

He stared at her for a moment more, then obviously dismissing her, lowered his head and began typing again.

Stifling a sigh, she opened the file folder she’d been holding and laid several sheets of paper and one of her business cards on his desk. He continued working, pointedly ignoring her.

“That’s a copy of your schedule. There will be a car waiting at seven-thirty. If you need anything, my cell number is on the back of the business card.”

Turning on her heel, she walked toward the door of their adjoining rooms.

“Ms....”

She looked back at him as he picked up the business card, clearly searching for her name.

“Burrows?”

“Yes?”

“Close the door on your way out.” He laid the card down and glanced up. “Actually, scratch that. I need to be able to pace while I’m thinking—so, leave the door open between the two rooms.”

She blinked at him. “You want me to leave the door open?”

He sat back in his chair and studied her. “Do you have some sort of difficulty with cognitive processing?”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Trouble hearing, then?”

She forced herself to maintain eye contact. “I’m not hard of hearing,” she bit out. “And I’m not stupid.”

“Glad to hear it. On both counts, really.” He glanced down at his screen again. “So, be a good lass, and leave the door open.”

She stared at him, incredulous. “I will not.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you need to pace, you might try the treadmill in the gym, but you’re not going to just wander through my room.”

“Your room? I don’t think so, lass. I always get adjoining rooms so I can spread out.”

Eliza stared at him and took several deep, calming breaths. Well, they were deep anyway. “I’m going to assume that you didn’t read the email Barbara sent.”

“Which one?” Angus dragged his fingers through his hair again, his irritation clearly bubbling to the surface.  “There were at least thirty-seven.”

That probably wasn’t an exaggeration. Barbara was an excellent editor, but it usually took her multiple emails to say everything that needed saying.

“The one that mentioned that there were no other rooms available. The hotel is completely booked because of the con, and they were going to need to give me the adjoining room. That email.”

He laced his fingers together behind his head as he stared at her, looking as though he was biting back everything he wanted to say. Yeah, well he wasn’t the only one.

She fought the urge to let her eyes wander over his arms. Over the way his t-shirt pulled snuggly around his biceps, or the way the muscles corded in his forearms. Forearms she’d have the overwhelming urge to bite if he wasn’t such a jerk.

She pulled her gaze away from his arms. “Unless you need anything before then, I’ll meet you here at seven-twenty, tomorrow morning.”

He continued to stare at her. Though, at this point, it could really be considered more of a glare.

“Goodnight, Mr. Domhnull.”

“Ms. Burrows.” He nodded once, like an angry widower concluding an interview with a hapless young governess in some gothic novel.

She tried to ignore both the way he rolled the Rs in her name and the displeasure in his tone as he dismissed her. He could go ahead and be as pissed off as he wanted. If he hadn’t been such a dick about it, she might have felt bad for him. She knew how difficult it was for some writers to focus when they weren’t comfortable in their surroundings. Instead, she took great pleasure in shutting and locking the door to her room.

Annoying brooding man. He needed to go find a moor to stand on. It didn’t take much imagination to picture him in the middle of a desolate landscape, greatcoat open and billowing in the wind. She rolled her eyes at herself.

He’s a bad-tempered Scotsman. Just because he’s hot and has an accent doesn’t mean he’s your Mr. Darcy. Besides, if he’s out being moody on the moors, he’s more of a Heathcliff. And no one needs that asshole.

And really, Darcy was a classist snob, anyway. No one needed him, either.

Purchase Rewritten

Excerpt from Bound: London Bound

A holiday and a hot fling—all good fun. It wasn't supposed to change everything.

After losing her husband six years ago, Meg Stevens has focused on the day-to-day and being a mother, not sparing a thought for anything beyond—no dates, no excitement, no life other than what she already had. A six-week vacation to London, all but forced on her by her two children, changes all of that. Meg meets the man of her dreams—gorgeous, dominant, and completely on board with a short-term fling—despite the fact he’s far too young for her.

Nathan Harris is more than a bit curious about the beautiful woman renting the upstairs flat, and once he talks to her, curiosity is quickly replaced by arousal and desire. It doesn’t take long before it’s clear she longs to experience sexual submission, and Nathan finds himself desperate to be the one she submits to.

Her days spent exploring the city, her nights exploring Nathan and the pleasure submitting to him brings, Meg discovers the trip she’d taken out of obligation has turned into something she doesn’t want to walk away from. However, the life she left behind beckons, and there’s no room there for dreaming of something she can never have.

A shiver skated down Meg’s spine, anticipation burrowing in her stomach as Nathan’s breath whispered over her lips. Her eyes nearly rolled back at the delicious pressure of his fingers on her neck as he held her firmly.

Then, he took her mouth, and there was no nearly about it—her eyes rolled right back. So much pleasure from a simple touch, a kiss. She should have known, though. The fleeting touches in the pub had been enough to make her yearn, to want more than she had in such a long time.

“So deep in thought,” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip then sucking on it slowly. “Where are you, right now, love?”

Hands on his chest, she fisted the soft material of the blue sweater he wore. “I’m here with you. If you want me to be.”

“Oh, I want.” His hand dropped from her elbow to palm her ass. “Come inside with me.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers with a low groan. After a deep inhale, he straightened and, eyes locked on hers, reached behind to push the door to his apartment open. Hands firm on her ass and neck, he walked backwards, pulling her inside slowly. He was giving her an opportunity to change her mind, she realized. While she appreciated the gesture—really, really she did—she didn’t want slow, she didn’t want questions, and she didn’t want to stop what she’d started or begin to doubt a decision she’d had a hell of a time making in the first place. What she did want? More of his mouth and hands on her. The chance to touch and explore the hard edges of the body she’d seen earlier that day. To feel him against her, surrounding her, and God, inside her. Her pussy clenched, empty and aching, at the thought.

He let go of her ass to push the door shut, but his grip on her neck remained, like a brand, and she couldn’t deny that she loved it. The weight, the press of his fingers awakened things inside her she’d thought gone and buried long ago.

Nathan wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her forward. His fingers shifted slightly, tangled in her hair. She whimpered, relishing the sharp sting as he pulled her head back roughly.

The hard length of his cock pressed against her belly, and she cursed the layers between them. Even though her coat was open and it was just their clothing, it was too much separating them and she longed to tear the material away, feel him skin to skin.

Bending forward, he settled his lips over her pulse and sucked. With a gasp, she slid her hands up to cradle his head. The soft hair tickled her palms, and the sensation, paired with the pull of his mouth and the smooth glide of his tongue, had her arching toward him, desperate for more.

Clit pulsing, she shuffled to press her thighs together. A whine lodged in her throat when Nathan shoved a knee between hers, preventing her from finding any sort of relief—however small and inadequate it would have been.

His forearm slid over the curve of her ass, and he grasped the hem of her skirt. As he pulled the garment up, she held her breath but let it out in a whoosh when he traced the edge of her panties.

He lifted his head and met her gaze. The vibrant blue of his eyes was nearly eclipsed by the dilated pupils. His grip tightened on her neck, just a moment, before he moved both hands to her hips and pushed her until her back hit the door. She didn’t have time to react or mourn the loss of his touch because he was right there. Pressed against her, roughly pulling her skirt around her waist. He cupped her mound, his warmth seeping through the thin cotton and melding with the heat she radiated.

“Bed?” She could only manage the one word, so lost in what he was doing, what was to come.

“Eventually.” He chuckled, a dark, decadent sound that smoothed over her, sending her even deeper under his spell. “First, though...”

Pulling her panties to the side, he trailed his fingers along her slick folds, slipping easily through her desire. Meg tried to cant her hips forward but his other hand still held her fast. It wasn’t enough; she needed...she needed...

“Shh.” He nosed her hair aside and kissed her damp forehead. “Patience, love. We’ll get there. You’ll get there. I promise.”

He teased and played around her clit, never grazing the thrumming bud. One touch, one firm press, and she’d go off, she was sure of it.

He ran his lips down along her jaw, pressing soft kisses into her skin, until his breath swept over her ear. “I’ll take you to bed, Meg, but first, I want you to come. I want you, against this door, fully fucking clothed, to cream all over my hand. I want to be drenched with it.”

“Oh, fuck me,” she said, head thumping back against the hard wood. God, his voice, his words, were almost enough to push her over.

“Eventually,” he said again, tongue flicking over her lobe. “But, after you come, I’m going to want to taste. I bet you taste so fucking sweet. I’m going to eat it all up, and I think...I think I’ll need you to come again.” He dipped a finger into her dripping pussy, pulling out more wetness to spread over her swollen lips. “Oh, yeah, I’ll need to feel you come apart on my tongue, against my mouth.”

Meg’s legs shook as hot desire coiled deep in her belly, and she fought to stay upright. She clenched her hands in his hair, holding on—wanting so badly to fall into the promised release but at the same time fearing the intensity of it all. Already, it was more than she could have imagined, and it was just beginning.

“Maybe then, after you grind yourself against my face, frantic and wild to get off any way you can, I’ll make my way up and kiss your sexy mouth.” He pumped the long digit inside her channel, and the soppy, wet sound of him fingerfucking her brought heat to her cheeks but also ratcheted her arousal up even further. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Tasting yourself on my lips as I slide balls deep into your needy cunt.”

Groaning, Meg tried again to move her hips, to fuck his long fingers, to chase the orgasm that was tauntingly beyond her reach. Nathan’s grip firmed on her hip, and a drawn out moan fell from her lips. She repeated the action, just to feel his fingers dig into her flesh hard and punishingly. Perversely, she hoped bruises formed, wanting that tangible reminder for later.

“And then, I’ll fuck you.”

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Excerpt from Bound: In Bounds

Running into the one-off she’s never been able to forget complicates the hell out of her summer holiday.

Ivy Wright knows several things to be true: Marrying a guy who can’t keep it in his pants is a terrible idea. So is having a drunken, secret one-night stand with her best friend’s little brother. And catching a soccer ball with one’s face never works out well for anyone. When all three collide, what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation in the English countryside becomes unbelievably awkward not to mention sexually charged.

While recovering from a potentially career-ending injury, English football player, Will Darby, runs into the one woman he’d given up hope of ever seeing again. No longer chafing at being sidelined, Will is a man on a mission. He’s never forgotten his one and only night with Ivy, and their attraction is stronger than ever.

Convincing her to give him a chance is only the first hurdle. Getting her to admit her kinks and let him give her what she needs physically and emotionally is another, but is their connection enough when her secrets keep pushing them apart?

She couldn’t believe Will would be shitty enough to cheat on his girlfriend. Though, why that thought was so hard to swallow, she had no idea. Daniel certainly hadn’t had any trouble fucking around on her, and they’d been married. She sighed. If she were being honest with herself, she’d wanted to believe the man who’d taken such tender care of her and who’d seemed attracted to her was genuine. Instead, he was just another asshole. She knew there were good guys out there, but Will obviously wasn’t one of them. And the sooner she came to terms with that, the better off she’d be.

Unfortunately, now, all she could do was imagine his hand wrapped around the handle of the crop as he brought it down on a bare ass. And since she had no clue what Peyton looked like, it was all too easy to imagine herself in that position. For fuck’s sake, she needed to get a grip.

Yanking open the bathroom door, she stopped dead, fingers clenched on the knob. Will blocked her way, his palms braced against the doorframe.

She forced herself to lift her head and meet his gaze. “I get that you’re down to fuck anything that moves, but I’m not interested.”

“Noted.”

They glared at each other, until she couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “Move.”

“Just as soon as you hear what I have to say.”

“If you’re going to tell me that she’s one of those sportsball cleat chasers, save it.”

“I assume you mean football and WAG wannabes.”

Her fist tightened on the door handle. “Whatever.”

“And Peyton? A WAG wannabe?” He snorted. “Hardly.” His smile faded, and he held Ivy motionless with his hooded gaze. “Also, she’s not my girlfriend.”

Ivy didn’t say anything.

“She’s my friend,” he continued. “Has been since uni. And yes, when neither of us are seeing other people, we sometimes have sex.” He tilted his head to the side, slightly, his gaze boring into hers. “We both have...similar interests.”

There was that mental image of him using a crop on her own willing ass again. Her gaze drifted to his hands, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he ever covered Peyton’s mouth when she came. A tiny shiver worked through her, and once again, she forced herself to meet his eyes.

“So, no,” he bit out. “When I’m with someone, I don’t sleep around, and I wouldn’t—not even for you.”

Not even for her? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“I realize that your knob of an ex didn’t offer you that same courtesy, so I’ll cut you some slack for jumping to that conclusion about me.”

Her cheeks flushed with heat.

“I don’t blame you for being angry with him—just do me a favor and don’t take it out on me, okay?”

She took a deep breath, blinking back the stupid tears that burned her eyes. She didn’t think she had any tears left for Daniel. She wasn’t even sure they were for him. At this point, she might just be feeling sorry for herself. “You’re right—I made some pretty big assumptions. I’m sorry.”

Will’s expression softened. “I get it. I do. When your trust is broken that badly, it’s easy to think everyone sucks.”

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she glanced away. “And I’m sorry I looked at something that was private. It wasn’t intentional, but it’s still unacceptable.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulder lift. “It happens. Just so we’re both clear here, I’m about to be very direct.” He paused, waiting until she looked at him. “I’m just as attracted to you as I was twelve years ago.” He shook his head, a rueful grin lifting his lips. “No. More. Much more. So, if the feeling is mutual, and you’re looking to fuck your ex out of your system, I’m available.”

Her mouth dropped open, and her breath caught in her throat. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Not even Daniel. Between Will’s unwavering eye contact and his blunt words, her stomach flipped uncontrollably, and her pussy was suddenly slick and needy. Somehow, she doubted she’d ever get used to his straightforwardness. She moistened her suddenly dry lips. “That’s...that’s good to know.”

“And if you want to experiment with breath play...submission...pain play—whatever you want—I’m your guy.”

Her lips parted, and her gasp sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the morning. She swallowed hard. “Also good to know.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth and hovered there before climbing to her eyes again—his desire obvious and intense. She wished she had the balls to close the distance and kiss him and damn the consequences. But she didn’t.

Instead, she swallowed hard and grasped for something—anything—to pierce the bubble of intimacy surrounding them. “I should probably get ready. I—I need to work on lesson plans for the kids.”

She could tell by the tilt of his lips that he didn’t believe her, but he took a step back and gave her a little more space.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you for looking after me last night.”

“Any time, love.” He moved over to the bedside table and picked up his phone. “I’m going to head up to the house and take a shower. Is there anything you need?”

Yeah. You. Inside me. Immediately. “Nope. I’m good."

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About the Author

Bronwyn Green is an author, blogger, and compulsive crafter. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two children and four somewhat psychotic cats. When not frantically writing, she can be found binge-watching Netflix while working on her latest craft project.

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Also by Bronwyn Green

Bound: Drawn That Way

Bound: The Professor’s Student

Bound: Out of Sync

Bound: In Bounds

Bound: Rewritten

Rising Blood

Finding You

Unexpected Gifts

For more information on these and other titles, please visit

www.bronwyngreen.com