5
SARIAH
Tied to his bed? Good God! It is the starting place for every unspoken fantasy I’ve ever had. How does he know?
Or is this his fantasy, too, and yet another example of how perfect we are together?
Ugh. Why does he have to be my boss’s boss? If he and I knew each other under any other circumstances, I would be with him in a heartbeat. It would take nothing to fall head over heels in love, which is exactly why I have avoided him.
I can’t risk falling in love. Not now. Not with him.
“Are you really prepared to tie me up?”
“You’re too much of a flight risk for me not to be prepared.”
“I wasn’t planning on running away.”
He grabs his wine glass and arches a brow. “Maybe not tonight.”
I snort. “Well, we’re all leaving tomorrow.”
“Maybe.” He cuts into his steak and chews thoughtfully, watching me as I do the same.
Maybe? What is he up to? I take a couple more bites and wash it down with my wine, emptying my glass. Tate is on top of it, grabbing the bottle and refilling first my glass and then his.
“Tell me, Sariah. Is there someone back in Spring City?”
“What?”
“A guy. A boyfriend. Hell, even a boy toy.” He leans back in his chair, his knees splayed, the towel barely covering his bulge.
I shake my head. “Why do you ask?”
“I want to know.”
“No, I do not have a boyfriend. I wouldn’t be here with you if I did.”
“Am I the last man to fuck you?”
“Well, yeah. You fucked me last night, remember?”
His eyes heat with the memory, and the look on his face is turning me on. “Oh, I remember.”
“That was hot.” I squeeze my thighs together, a new ache building between my legs.
Tate stands abruptly, his face a mask of determination. “Are you done eating?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” I throw my napkin down and stand up, taking his hand. He leads me out of the living / dining area into the bedroom where a king-size bed awaits. And then I notice a handful of silk scarves, much like the one I bought to cover my neck this morning, only these are longer and wider and definitely stronger. “Oh, Tate.”
“Do you like the idea of being tied up?”
I lick my lips and peer up through my lashes. I don’t know why admitting this makes me feel shy, but it does. “By someone I trust, yes.”
“You trust me to take care of you, right?” He runs his hands up my arms, trailing his fingertips over my clavicle, caressing my cleavage. His touch is sweet, loving, and gently arousing—amplified by the look in his eye as he locks gazes with me.
Then he reaches behind my neck and unfastens the top of my dress, exposing my breasts. His eyes flicker down and then back up, a smile spreading his lips. “Tell me no other man has touched you in the last three months.”
“No one,” I hiss as he rolls, pinches, and tugs on my nipples.
“Good girl.” Cupping the back of my neck, he yanks me to him and claims my lips. I gasp, my tongue darting out to dance with his as he holds me in place with a possessive hand around my throat. It takes nothing for me to melt into his touch, every nerve ending on fire. “Get on the bed.”
When we were in Toledo, Tate and I fell into bed in a sweaty, desperate tangle of limbs. It was hot, uncontrollable passion without an ounce of thought or premeditation.
Tonight, Tate is showing me another side of him—a mix of the fun man in Toledo and the dominant, controlling man from last night. I like both, but I really like the combination of the two.
I push my dress off my hips and step out of it, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He walks around me and pats the middle. “Get your ass on this spot.”
Moving to where he wants me, I watch as he grabs two of the silk ties. He loops a scarf over each of my wrists and then stretches my arms above me, positioning me so that I’m lying across the bed. He ties the two scarves together through the legs of the side table. It’s then I notice they fastened the headboard to the wall, and there is no way to tie me up to it. Yet Tate thought of a way around it because that’s the kind of man he is.
Get it done, however necessary, which is hot as hell.
Once my hands are secure, he gives the ties a little tug, pulling my arms tight above me. Excitement rushes through me. I’ve dreamed about doing this, but I honestly didn’t think it would ever happen to me. I’ve got a dominant personality myself, and I tend to attract beta males who want me to tie them up versus my preferred scenario.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Tate walks around the bed and stops between my feet. “Fuck, it is hot seeing you stretched out for me.”
“I didn’t realize you were into this stuff.”
“I’m into a lot of things, sugar. You’ll find that out over time.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that this is only tonight, but I don’t want to ruin the mood, so I bite down on my lip instead and stare up at him.
“Smart and beautiful. What a deadly combination.” He chuckles and drops his towel. “Knees up and spread your legs.”
Just the tone of his voice makes my pussy tingle. I do what he says, my nipples pebbling into hard tips, arousal dripping out of me.
“Fuck,” he groans and runs a hand down his face, his other gripping and stroking his deliciously long length. “How many toys do you have at home? Do you fuck yourself nightly with them?”
I giggle. “Why are you asking about my toys?”