He looms over me, never taking his hands from my body or that smoldering gaze from my eyes. He’s all-consuming, all-powerful, and might as well be sexuality in the flesh as far as my body is concerned. His hands are like conduits that send my nerves into overdrive until even the slightest touch or sensation feels like it could bring me to my knees--but that won’t happen as long as I’m tied and at his mercy.

God. What am I doing?

The small voice of reason breaks through my lust for a fraction of a second, but there’s no way I’m stopping this now. I’m too far in. I’ve breathed the perfume of his attraction too deeply to stop now, maybe ever.

I should feel exposed and embarrassed, but I don’t. I only feel the exhilaration of living outside the lines for what might be the first time in my life. I may have asked him what would happen if I said no, but I think a dirty part of me just wanted to hear him say it didn’t matter what I said. I wanted to know he wanted me so badly that he wasn’t going to let me walk out of here, no matter what.

But that’s crazy. He’s just trying to keep me on edge to heighten the experience. That’s all. Then again, maybe this is real. Maybe he decided walking into this room was consent enough and I was his as soon as I did.

His.

The word sends a shiver of excitement down my spine that explodes into warmth between my legs, soaking my already wet bikini bottoms until I’m more wet than I’ve ever been in my life.

I wait. I could tell him I want this. I could relieve the pressure and the unanswered question that hangs in the air, but to do that feels like it would be a crime. This is his world. I was lucky enough to stumble into it, and I’m not about to squander the experience.

His lips twist into an amused smile. “You want to play hard to get, Kitten?” he asks.

I feel a rush when he uses the pet name again. The possessiveness of it lights a fire in my stomach that has my pussy throbbing. I want to be his. His kitten. His plaything. His anything. I don’t care if it’s crazy to want all that from a stranger.

“I…” I breathe. It feels like all the air has left my lungs, like I can barely push out a word, let alone a sentence. “Are you sure you have the… right girl?” I ask.

He watches me for a long moment before responding, lips curling into a slow, amused grin. He leans in close, lips so close to my ear I can feel the heat of his breath and the tickle of his skin against mine. “I’m sure about one thing. Your fucking hands are tied, and you’re not going anywhere until I’ve had my fun with you.”

My knees go weak, and if it wasn’t for the cords holding me from above, I would collapse. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. “Why me?” Is all I can manage.

“Because I knew I had to have you as soon as I saw you.” When he steps back I see he has complete control. His face is calm and he watches me with those gorgeous, startling eyes. “It’s just too bad I don’t have all the right tools at my disposal.” He takes a look around the room with real regret.

“Tools?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Paddles, hot wax, ice… maybe even a spanking bench would do nicely. Then there's always the Saint Andrew's cross, a personal favorite.”

He’s watching me closely, studying my reaction to each word. I wonder how much he can really be learning, because even I don’t know how I feel about all that.

“Don’t worry, Kitten. You’ll still cum so hard you’ll be screaming. We’ll probably have airport security in here before we’re done.”

“I’ve never been loud,” I blurt, and I feel my cheeks burning red hot from embarrassment. “In bed, I mean… Not that I’ve been in bed often--well, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing.” My hands itch to cover my face even though I can’t move them, or better yet plug my stupid mouth from digging myself into a deeper of hole. Perfect. Just when he was convinced he wanted to sleep with me, I go and show him what a social klutz I am.

But the sense of sexual hunger he practically drips only seems to grows stronger. “You’ve never been loud, have you? Then you’ve clearly never been treated right.”

His fingers slowly move to his buttons, which he carelessly pops open one by one to reveal the most perfectly sculpted torso I’ve ever laid eyes on. The heat between my legs becomes so intense that I shift a little uncomfortably from the ever growing wetness. When I look at the bulge in his slacks I can’t help thinking he could slide in so effortlessly right now, even with a cock that size. And God, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so empty in my life, so ready to be filled, so hungry for the friction of skin against mine.

He flicks his belt buckle loose and undoes the button on his pants, letting my anticipation grow as I watch him step closer, taking in the line of hair running from his belly button and disappearing beneath his gray briefs that are just barely visible. When he finally pulls down his pants, there’s a dark spot at the tip of his impressive bulge from pre-cum.

I lick my lips, unable to take my eyes from the shape of his cock struggling against the fabric of his briefs. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband and strips them down, letting his cock spring proudly free.

The sight of it literally takes the breath from my lungs. It’s definitely the biggest I’ve ever seen, and I’m already imagining what it will feel like inside me. How could I not be?

“Now,” he says, stepping up to me so his cock is pressed between us where it throbs, warm against my belly. He bends his neck to kiss my ear, tugging slightly with his lips. “You are not to speak or make a sound. Every time you moan or speak, I’ll make you wait another ten seconds to have your orgasm. Am I clear?”

“Yes…” I say hesitantly. Rules? Why does the idea of rules have my skin tingling and my heart pounding with excitement.

“Yes, Sir,” he corrects.

“Yes, Sir,” I say.

He groans with satisfaction, bending to kiss my neck and roughly grip my tits. “That’s fucking perfect.”

My back arches against his touch and my eyes slam shut. Every little movement is an explosion, rocking me to my core and bringing the rush of the world’s most premature orgasm closer and closer.

He surprises me by hooking his arms under my thighs and lifting me effortlessly onto his shoulders so my legs are spread in front of his face. I still wear my bikini bottoms, which is embarrassingly soaked by now, but he clearly doesn’t care.

He runs the flat of his tongue slowly and languidly along my crease over the material, groaning with pleasure. “You taste so fucking sweet, Kitten. I knew you would.”

I bite my lip hard and squeeze my hands tight around the cord holding my wrists together. Everything about him screams masculinity. He likes the way I taste? Jesus… Why is that so insanely hot?

Any thoughts of self-consciousness I might have had are quickly obliterated by the blinding need for more. More of him. More of his tongue. More of his filthy words. More everything.

I grind my hips into him, wincing when a moan spills from my lips.

He looks up at me, and the sight of his perfect face between my legs is one I’ll never forget. “Ten seconds, Kitten. Naughty, naughty.”

With any other guy, I’d be relieved that they weren’t planning to hump me for ten seconds and then cum, only to roll off and fall asleep. But with Damian? The orgasm building inside me is like a flood ready to burst, and holding it back is almost torture. He has barely had his hands on me for more than a few minutes and I’m already so desperate to cum I could scream--but that would mean I’d have to wait another ten seconds.

He yanks on the waistband of my bikini, sliding it free and lifting my legs high enough to pull them past his head before lowering me back down. I’m completely naked now, and more than a little aware of the fact that we’re in an unlocked conference room of a crowded airport. I can even hear what sounds like a young couple not far away complaining about their layover.

His mouth against my bare pussy is too much. Another moan escapes me, and I can’t even clap my hand to my mouth to stifle the sound because the cords are still holding me hostage.

He makes a muffled sound with his lips pressed to my clit, and the vibration bursts through me like liquid ecstasy. I cry out again, distantly noticing the conversation outside the door falls silent, but I’m too far gone to care now.

Twenty more seconds.

My heels dig into his back, thighs scissoring tightly around his head so that I’m afraid I might be choking him, but I can’t help it. It’s everything I can do not to scream, to yank my hands free of these cords so I can rake my fingers roughly through his hair.

I start to hope he’ll misjudge and give me the orgasm my body is begging for, but just when I can feel myself about to push over the edge, he stops, lowering me back to the ground. He turns me around, giving me a firm slap on the ass that stings but sends a shockwave of arousal through me, and then grips my hips.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you cum before I got to feel that tight little pussy, did you?”

“No,” I gasp.

“Ten seconds,” he growls. “And it’s no, Sir.”

“No, Sir.”

“Ten more seconds.”

I grit my teeth, knowing it’s unfair but also knowing there’s no point debating with him. His word is absolute, just like his power over me.

I hold my breath as he lines up the head of his cock with my pussy. He presses into me, squeezing the first inch into me and stretching my walls to their limit. My cheek presses into the wall with the force of each thrust and his powerful hands grip me while he pulls me into him, using me like a fucktoy as he works inch after inch into me until I think there can’t possibly be any more.

I finally feel the flat of his hips against my ass just as his cock presses so far into me I feel it pressing against my cervix. I gasp out another surprised moan, mentally chiding myself because I know he’s keeping count, and he’s going to enjoy dragging this out every second I give him an excuse to.

“You’re so fucking tight, Kitten. I knew you would be.”

I nearly respond to say something about how any woman would feel tight with a cock like his, but I’ve learned my lesson and I keep my lips pressed tightly together, still struggling to hold back the moans as he glides in and out of me. I’m so wet I can hear his every movement into me, but I know there’s no need to feel embarrassed because I can sense his own arousal mounting. His breath is heavier now and his hands are squeezing me even tighter, hard enough I’ll bruise. For some reason I love the thought of wearing his marks. He pounds into me so hard the sound of his hips against my ass must be audible even from the baggage claim.

Just when I know one more thrust will drive me over the edge and rip the orgasm from me that is waiting to burst, he stops.

“One… two… three,” he starts counting.

I want to beg him for mercy, for the friction of his cock inside me, but I know speaking will only prolong his beautiful torture. I can’t help myself from pressing my ass into him, seeking more of his length.

He chuckles. “Dirty little Kitten. You want to cum? Then you had better keep quiet this time.”

I press my lips into the wall, hoping the pressure will be enough to keep me from crying out again, and I wait, struggling against his iron grip. He finally resumes his pace, pumping his cock into me with relentless rhythm, driving me into the wall with every thrust.

I can try all I want, but there’s no stopping the sounds that come. I moan, I gasp, I curse, and I beg him for more. He stops keeping count, and I see the way his eyebrows draw down over those breathtaking eyes and I know he’s as lost in this as I am.

He pounds into me and tenses just as my orgasm finally breaks free, tightening the walls of my pussy around his pulsing cock, milking his length for every drop of his hot cum. My whole body convulses and shakes. If not for his hands on my hips and the cords around my wrists I would crumple to the ground in a puddle of satisfied bliss.

“Fucking hell,” he says. “I’ve never--”

The door swings open. A man wearing a security uniform stands at the door, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. Damian eases out of me shamelessly, and moves in front of my exposed body, blocking me from view of the security guard.

“Back out and close the fucking door if you want to keep your job. And if you so much as think about laying your eyes on her, I’ll take more than your job.”

A chill runs through me. The brutal way he talks to the man reminds me I know nothing about Damian, and yet here I stand with his cum running down my thighs. I should feel dirty and ashamed, but I don’t. I feel alive. I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt.

To my surprise, the security guard closes the door, leaving us alone again. Damian reaches up to untie the cords and eases them off my wrists, taking great care to inspect where they left slight red marks on my skin from all the wiggling around I did. He makes a dissatisfied face. “Fuck. I don’t even have any ointment for your skin.”

“It’s fine,” I say a little awkwardly as I bend to find my clothes. I pick up my bikini, feel how soaked it is, and drop it back to the ground. I unzip my suitcase and about thirty swimsuits nearly burst out from how tightly I packed them all in.

Damian grins. I see he’s sliding his briefs back on and looking for his pants. “That’s all you packed? Swimsuits?”

I blush. “I was supposed to be going on vacation. To Bermuda.”

“You still will,” he says.

I frown, but the finality of his tone erases any doubt that he might be joking with me or lying. “You’re serious?”

Damian brushes my cheek with his finger. “You bet that pretty little ass of yours I’m serious.” He picks out a pink swimsuit and bends down, carefully lifting my ankle and sliding my foot through the opening. Once he pulls the bikini up to my hips, he takes his time circling me to make sure it’s on properly.

I clear my throat. “I can dress myself, you know.”

“I’ll have to teach you not to mouth off to me like that. But that’s a lesson for later. Maybe even tonight.”

I try not to show the excitement his words fill me with. I didn’t want to dwell on the idea, but somewhere deep down I knew this would be a one-off kind of thing. But he’s talking about tonight?

And the way he carefully helps me get my clothes back on, finding every excuse he can to press his body to mine as he slips my top on--it’s starting to make me think dangerous thoughts. Stupid thoughts.

Once he slides my cover-up on and does a final careful inspection, he finishes dressing himself. “Come with me. Stay close by my side, Kitten. Remember. You’re mine now. If you stray, there will be consequences.”

I bow my head, part of me unsure how to process everything and the other part wanting to jump headlong into whatever Damian is planning for me. The idea of being his--submitting to him--it calls to me so strongly I’m almost ready to throw everything away for this man I hardly know.

I follow him out into the hallway, back into the public eye. Every woman within a hundred feet of Damian perks up, glancing hopefully toward him like he’s setting off some kind of instinctual sex radar. I gather as many glares as he does admiring looks, but the way he holds his hand on the small of my back makes it clear to everyone we pass that I’m his. They don’t have to know I’ve only known him for thirty minutes…

A thousand questions burn on the tip of my tongue, but something in the way Damian holds himself makes me stay silent for now. It’s not so much that I fear his anger. It’s that I trust him to tell me what I need to know when I need to know it.

I should laugh at that. I’m putting more trust in a stranger than I would normally put in my best friend, but I can’t help what I feel. There’s a connection between us already, like something magnetic inside us snapped together the moment our eyes met.

He takes me through a small door near one of the boarding tunnels, leading the way down a set of stairs that opens up to the runway. A warm breeze rustles my hair and the sound of airplane engines is suddenly overwhelming.

“Are we allowed to be here?” I ask.

He points to a small but luxurious airplane a few dozen yards off. “That one is mine. Come on.”

“Why were you buying tickets to Bermuda if you have a personal plane?” I ask

His confidence falters for a moment, and somehow he’s even sexier in his moment of vulnerability. “I guess you caught me. I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“You don’t strike me as the type of guy who needs to make excuses.”

“Sometimes, no. But I wanted you so badly I didn’t want to take any chances.”

I blush. “You keep saying that and I might start to believe you.”

“You had better believe me,” he says, eyes igniting again with a hint of the fire I saw before. He kisses me, but it’s not like the furiously, hungry kiss from the conference room. His lips brush mine tenderly now, almost lovingly. I kiss him back, until my body feels like it might melt into a puddle right here on the runway.

He pulls back with a cocky grin. “Easy. I’m all for exhibitionism, but if you keep looking at me like that I’ll have to fuck you right here, and I don’t think even I could get us out of a night in a cell for that one.”

I look away, embarrassed. “Maybe we should get on your plane, then.”

He takes me toward the plane, where his pilot is already opening up a door that folds out into a staircase. Damian helps me up carefully, as if he’s worried I might fall. Normally the kind of attention he’s showing me would probably insult me, but there’s something so sincere in his protectiveness that I can’t seem to get enough.

The interior of the plane is more extravagant than I would’ve imagined. The carpet is plush and looks like it would feel amazing if I was barefoot. Polished wood paneling and even paintings adorn the walls. The main cabin is set up more like a living room than a commercial airliner, with a few comfortable looking single seats, a couch, a mini-bar, and even a fish tank lit from underneath to display an impressive collection of expensive looking fish.

“Aren’t there weight limits on airplanes? Can you really have a fish tank and still fly?”

“This model is designed to hold at least sixty passengers. Keeping it under fifteen lets me have some luxuries.”

I laugh. “So you chose a fish tank?”

He shrugs. “If I’m honest, I don’t even pay attention to it all. In my line of work, extravagance inspires confidence from my clients. I show them what they want to see. No more, no less.”

“What exactly do you do?” I ask.

“Sir,” says a pretty young flight attendant who hurries in from the front cabin. I take her in from head to toe and an immediate, stabbing jealousy spikes through me.

Of course he’d have a beautiful flight attendant on his personal plane. He has probably slept with her, too. I push the thoughts away as soon as they come though. I didn’t even know Damian an hour ago. I have no business even feeling a hint of jealousy over what he might have done before that. All I have a right to care about is how he acts going forward.

“What is it?” he snaps.

“Mr. Holland said to tell you there was a problem with the contract. He said you’d--”

“Damn it,” growls Damian. He look to me regretfully, but seems to have already made up his mind over something. “Make sure she’s comfortable.” He leans in to kiss me again, but he’s distracted and the kiss is little more than a peck. “I’ll be as fast as I can. Wait here for me.”

I watch him go, settling into the comfortable chair with a growing sense of unease. Being apart from Damian seems to break the spell. All the certainty I had that I wasn’t being insane by sleeping with him and getting on a private jet with him is going up in smoke. I dig my fingers into the armrests of the chair.

“Would you like a drink?” asks the flight attendant.

“Yes, please. Something strong,” I add.

She smiles and moves off toward the bar.

I look to the doorway when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. But instead of Damian’s imposing figure, it’s a slim woman with an amazing body. She flashes a smile to the flight attendant, who looks extremely uncomfortable. “I didn’t think he was expecting you,” she says cautiously.

The woman glares. “Do you expect him to fill you in on every detail of his personal life? Scurry off, honey. I need to talk to her.” Her eyes shift to me and I can’t help squirming in my seat.

The woman clicks over in her expensive heels and sits across from me. Her smile is predatory. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you. Damian did say he’d bring some fresh meat for us to play with tonight, but you’re not what I was expecting.” She looks down her pert little nose at me, like I just fell out of a dumpster.

My stomach turns cold at her words. Fresh meat? “I’m sorry. Who are you?” I ask.

She purrs an obnoxious imitation of a laugh. “I’m Faleena. Damian’s woman. His only real woman, despite whatever lies he filled your head with to get you this far.”

I don’t want to believe her, but all the doubt already swirling around my mind makes it impossible not to cling to what she’s saying. “Why would he lie to me?”

“Oh, to be so naive again,” she muses. “What a luxury.” Faleena leans forward like she’s about to let me in on a grand secret. “He told you what he had to so you’d come with him. He probably fucked you too, didn’t he? Made you feel special?”

I can’t meet her eyes. My fingers curl and uncurl on the hem of my dress. I feel like the dumbest woman in the world for falling into his trap, and right now I want nothing more than to leave, to never look back and pretend this was all a bad dream.

She throws her head back and laughs. “Of course he did. Well I hope you enjoyed your one-on-one time with him. I don’t expect he’ll be very interested in you past tonight. Only a real woman can keep his attention for long.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “I wouldn’t blame you if you ran off. But if you’re going to leave, you may not want to wait long. He won’t let you go if he catches you.”

I take my bag and push past her without a word, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back the tears of embarrassment. They come anyway. I knew it was too good to be true. I knew the perfect guy would never fall into my lap like that, but I still went along with it like an idiot.

What did I get for putting myself out there for once? For letting go and living a little? I get to look like a silly, stupid little girl. I feel like an even bigger fool when I remember the way he came inside me. At the time, I was so lost to his will that I didn’t even consider the implications. I’m an idiot. I’m going to go home. Then I’m going to wait out the rest of my vacation time, and I’ll go back to work. I’ll move on and pretend none of this ever happened. It’ll be a bad memory, and if I’m lucky, I can eventually push it so far from my mind it disappears.

Unless he got you pregnant. A nasty little voice says in my head. I scoff at the thought, shaking my head and wiping away the tears, already moving on from the self-pity stage and into the angry, resentful stage. What would be the chances of that? A guy like him probably had a vasectomy a long time ago so he could go around fucking whoever he wanted without protection like the animal he is. I should make an appointment to get tested. Lord only knows what kind of diseases the man could have.

A distant part of me questions whether I should believe the word of that catty bitch of a woman, maybe I’m latching onto the idea of his betrayal too quickly. It’s almost an excuse that will let me go running back to my simple, predictable life. After all, it’s one stranger’s word over another. But what I was about to do was so far beyond my comfort zone, it only took the shadow of doubt to shatter my confidence. Running off that airplane was easier than walking into the conference room, and isn’t that what I’ve always done? The easy thing. I don’t know why it should surprise me that I’m doing what’s easy now.

My thoughts leave an empty, painful pit in my stomach. On one hand, I believe the woman. Guys like him don’t just come along to sweep girls up into some life of romance and passion. He could have any woman in the world, so of course she was telling the truth. Luring me onto that plane was just a game for him. I guess simply sleeping--no fucking, it was definitely fucking a woman isn’t enough of a challenge for someone like him, he has to add humiliation and degradation to the mix.

Second by second, my confusion and doubt over running off the plane is solidifying into a single, overwhelming emotion. Anger. It’s getting easier and easier to explain to myself how Faleena’s words must have been true, and it’s getting easier to picture Damian as some kind of monster instead of the man I thought he was.

I make it back inside the airport terminal, using a staircase like the one he led me down just a few minutes ago, but this time choosing a different entrance at random. Once I’m back upstairs, I look out the huge windows overlooking the runways and spot Damian striding back toward the private jet. He looks so big, even from up here. So imposing. So confident.

I set my jaw. And so much like an asshole. Fuck you, Damian. I hope I never see you again.