Unbuttoned by the Boss

He saw them as soon as she went back into the bedroom. Guessed her intention immediately. ‘Oh, no.’

‘Hands up.’

‘No.’

‘Why, Lorenzo—’ she knelt on the bed ‘—you wouldn’t be afraid, would you?’

He gave her a piercing look and held out his hands with a pained sigh. ‘There was me thinking you were straightlaced.’

‘Maybe I’ve discovered a ribbon of recklessness,’ she joked. It was his fault. His influence. His touch. He made her feel free. He made her feel as if she could do anything, try anything, and he’d still accept her.

She bound his wrists together. Wrapped the ribbon around the headboard and tied that too, so his arms were caught above his head. She looked down at his face. He had a smirk. As soon as she finished, he flexed, the ribbon went taut.

His smirk vanished. He stiffened and pulled harder.

‘I don’t think you can break it.’ She leaned closer to him, letting her breasts touch as she taunted. ‘We girl scouts know how to tie knots.’

He pulled again. She saw it dawn in his eyes—that he really couldn’t get free. ‘Sophy. Untie them.’

‘No.’ She straddled him.

‘Sophy. Joke’s over.’ He looked very serious, his eyes black.

‘It’s no joke. And it’s not over.’ She tickled her fingers up the underside of his arms—his biceps bulging as he tried to rip free of the ribbon again. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t hurt you.’

The tenor had changed completely—he really wasn’t comfortable with this, was he? She studied him. Raw, vulnerable, yet fiercely proud. Something pulled deep in her heart. This powerful, independent man was at her mercy—and he didn’t like it.

And what had begun as an almost kinky, definitely playful tease, turned devastatingly intense. She spread her fingers wide, ran her palm slowly up the centre of his chest, feeling the warm skin, up to where she could feel the thudding of his heart. Had he ever lain back and just let someone love him?

No. He never had. And he didn’t want to let her now.

But she wanted to love him—so much. And just this once, she would.

She moved off him, knelt at his side and started—slowly—even more slowly than when he’d tormented her that first time. She touched him, forgot time as she felt him, entranced in her exploration in seeing how she could make him respond. Making love to every inch of his skin and trying to go deeper—right into his bones, into his heart. He said nothing. Nor did she. But his breathing changed. She watched the straining in his body—knew what he wanted. She was breathless too—filled with yearning. She kissed him all over, her fingers either trailing or kneading every part of him—but the most obvious. She was saving the best bits ’til last. It was too wonderful to rush it.

But eventually she moved closer—her hands working together in sweeping circles—ever decreasing—narrowing in on her target. She heard his breath catch.

‘Sophy.’

She smiled and took him in her mouth. His harsh groan was the sweetest melody to her ears. He moved beneath her—arching, seeking.

‘I want to touch you,’ he ground out, his hips rising—chasing her caresses.

‘You already are.’ It was her turn to be fiercely proud— of the way she could make his powerful body buck, of the way she could make him cry out for her. The pleasure she could give him. She wanted to make him feel joy—as being with him filled her with joy. And the feelings surged through her, she lifted up looked down into his eyes. The beautiful eyes that she loved.

She kissed him like crazy—pouring it all into him. He met her, his kiss equally fervent. Then his body went rigid beneath her as he strained to be free of the bonds, but the knots held.

‘I have to have you.’ He sounded so raw. ‘Please.’

Finally she couldn’t take it any more herself—needed to feel him deep within her. She straddled him. Held his pulsing erection in her hand and sank onto him in one swift movement. They both cried out. He arched up, trying to lead the rhythm, but she pushed her hands down on his shoulders, using them as anchors so she could ride him hard—her way. She threw her head back as the bliss ravaged through her.

‘Sophy, Sophy, Sophy.’

She looked back down into his eyes as she heard his agonised call to her. Saw him stripped bare. The vulnerability unconcealed—the bottomless depth of need in him revealed. Her fingers tightened on him as she saw the anguish there. She leaned forward to kiss him again—a kiss offering all she had. And felt the shudders racking him as he accepted it.

A long time later she still lay on him, running her hand gently over his chest as she felt his heartbeat slow. She said nothing, didn’t expect him to either—and he didn’t. Eventually she moved, lifting to look at him. His eyes were closed, his brow smooth. She pulled the coverings up. He’d gone to sleep. She reached down to the floor and got the scissors. She caressed his jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. And then she snipped the ribbon.

He moved faster than she’d ever have thought possible. Grasping both her hands in his, he flipped her onto her back, his eyes open and blazing as he crushed her half beneath his body. The scissors clattered to the floor. Breathless, she twisted her head to the side—could see the red marks on his wrists from where he’d fought against the knots. She bit her lip, braced as she looked back into his face—afraid of the anger she would find there.

But the flames weren’t frightening. Instead the faintest smile appeared as he pushed down to emphasise each word. ‘No one. But. You.’

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