When I woke up, my head was pounding. And not pounding like, oh, I had a bit too much to drink last night, pounding like my head was a watermelon and someone had taken a hammer to it. What. The. Fuck.

I could barely open my eyes. It felt like lead weights held my lids down. Wherever it was, it was bright and that made me feel like I should have my eyes open. Normal people slept when it was dark and woke up when it was bright. But bright hurt like a knife. I groaned.

“Ana.” Ash’s voice, by my side. That was good. I closed my eyes again for a moment. He would help me feel better.

“How much did you drink last night?”

The question was simple and innocuous, but the word drink nearly made me wretch. I could still taste it in my mouth, that drink I’d had, the last one. But I couldn’t picture it.

I didn’t know if I fell asleep again, if Ash left and came back, but the next thing I knew he was sitting beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Here, take these. Some Advil.”

I managed to open up my eyes a sliver and make out three pills in his palm. Gently, he helped me sit up, handing me the pills and then water to chase them down.

“Wathefuck?” I slurred, wishing I could sleep again.

“Baby, are you OK? I know you’re a lightweight, but this seems—”

I groaned again, digging the base of my palms into my eye sockets.

“I’ll let you sleep again, it’s just that it’s almost three o’clock so I was starting to get worried that you’d barely moved.”

“Three clock?” I squinted at him. How was that possible? The last thing I remembered I was at a party. A big party for New Year’s Eve.

“You’ve been asleep for about fourteen hours.”

That wasn’t right. Listing to the left, happily I found Ash and leaned against him. He wrapped an arm around me. That felt better.

“Did you take anything last night? Any pills or—?”

“No.” I shook my head, then I wished I hadn’t. Movement was a bad thing. But I felt certain I hadn’t done any drugs. But why couldn’t I remember a goddamned thing?

“Somebody might have slipped something into your drink. Motherfuckers.”

Bits and pieces came back to me from last night. A girl dancing all up on me. Ash up on a bar doing shots. Standing and talking with Johnny. And Connor.

“Connor,” I mumbled, even my mouth feeling heavy and sleepy.

“Yeah, he said he saw you drink something before you passed out. Have some water.” Ash handed me a large bottle and sat with me, coaxing me to finish nearly the whole thing.

I needed to sleep some more. I tried to fight it. He said I’d already slept for 14 hours, but I couldn’t stay awake any more than I could fly.

“Where are we?” I managed, my eyelids stubbornly refusing to open, my head sinking deeper onto Ash’s shoulder.

“My cabin in Mammoth.”

“What?” That breathed a bit of life into me. My eyes not exactly wide but at least partially open, I looked around me. A rustic antler chandelier overhead, wide-beamed wooden planks underfoot, we nestled on an oversized leather couch in front of a gigantic stone fireplace. Had he said Mammoth? Like the prehistoric wooly mammoth creature?

I must have said that last bit out loud because Ash chuckled and pulled me closer, kissing the top of my head. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you rest some more?”

“Was going to New York,” I whispered, trying to make sense of this, my body sinking into him with complete trust but my mind reeling about, foggy and confused and upset.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He kissed me on my head. And with that I was out again like a light.

I didn’t know what time it was when I woke up again, but I could see it was dark outside the windows. Lights were on inside, though, and the fire still burned.

From somewhere I could hear a piano, the notes lilting and flowing out. It was Ash playing, I knew instantly. He had a way of expressing himself, showing how he felt through the keys. He was playing that song, the tune he’d first played for me at the arena in Santa Clara. So haunting, aching. The melody had grown from that first time, developed through us playing it again, together, expanding and deepening. It pulled at me.

But even more than that, I really needed to pee. Slowly, I brought myself up to sitting. Then slowly, oh so slowly, up to standing. I realized I was wearing a too-big sweatshirt and sweatpants. They must belong to Ash.

Ash was at my side in a second. “Are you OK?”

“Bathroom,” I managed. He helped me over to it. I wondered if that’s what it felt like to get old, when meeting bodily needs seemed to pose a nearly insurmountable challenge. Ash would take good care of me if we grew old together.

Where had that thought come from? Clearly I was still under the influence of some kind of drug much more powerful than mere alcohol.

Door closed, I took my time, as if I could have done anything else. Cold water felt good splashed on my face, and I found a washcloth to remove some of the more ridiculous clown-like smudges of makeup. Nothing could be done about my hair, though. It had a life all its own, standing up proud and tall like a 1960s beehive. So be it. Nothing but a long, hot shower could tame that mane.

When I finally emerged, Ash met me and walked me again over to the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a truck. Did I?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Because I can’t remember a damn thing about last night.”

“I guess you did some shots. And had something else to drink which I have to guess was laced with something. Could have been rohypnol, or GHB, or zolpidem. Or even a benzodiazepine, like temazepam or midazolam.”

I looked at him. “Did you just start speaking another language?”

He dropped his head, looking slightly bashful. “I know a lot about drugs.”

“Are you a pharmacist on the side?”

He looked up at me and shrugged his shoulders. “Ana, I’m not a perfect man. Far from it. But give me a shot.”

“Ash, I literally don’t even know where I am right now.” Was he trying to have a relationship conversation?

“Sorry, right.” He hustled away, then returned with a fresh water bottle and a mug of what looked like tea. “Here, keep hydrated.”

I drank. “So you think I got drugged?”

He nodded. I wished I could remember more about last night, but it was like trying to recollect a strange dream, the fragments appearing then twisting away before I could collect them and make sense of it all.

“I think I need more Advil.” He brought me some more, and I washed them down, starting to feel just the slightest bit more human.

“The last person I remember seeing was Connor.”

Ash nodded. “He found you right before you passed out.”

Had he also given me a drink? Possibly the drugged drink? I wished I could remember. “You don’t think he…?”

“No,” Ash dismissed my unfinished question. “No way. Connor wouldn’t do that to you.”

I didn’t exactly share his confidence, but I had other fish to fry at the moment anyway. “So, where exactly am I? Because I thought I had plans to go to New York.”

“You did.” He nodded, looking a bit grim. “But I brought you here to a remote cabin in the California wilderness instead. Without your consent.”

My eyes widened. Nothing like ripping off the Band-Aid. “Excuse me, what?”

“I kidnapped you.” He shrugged. I didn’t find it cute.

“Ash, are you joking?” I looked around and he really didn’t seem to be joking. I was surrounded by a rustic mountain cabin. An expensively-decorated, four-to five-million-dollar range rustic mountain cabin, but still. What the fuck?

“You were passed out.”

“Because someone drugged me.”

“And I didn’t want you to fly to New York. I wanted to spend some time with you. So I rented a car and drove us here.”

“Without my consent.”

He nodded.

“While I was passed out.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Ash, that’s so fucked up and creepy!”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

I looked around, not sure whether his ready agreement creeped me out more or calmed me down. Crazy people didn’t know they were crazy, right?

I had been planning on flying back to New York today, but I hadn’t bought my ticket yet. My parents didn’t expect me back for another few days, nor did my boss at the library or my piano students. It wasn’t a disaster. But it wasn’t what I’d planned. And he hadn’t exactly asked me first.

“Where are we again?”

“Mammoth. Near Yosemite.”

“In the mountains?”

He nodded. “And I may as well tell you we’re in the middle of a huge snowstorm. We won’t be able to get out of here for a few days.”

“What?” Now I remembered hearing something about it, people talking about the West Coast storm of the century at the party before his show. People from California were saying they might spend an extra night or two in Vegas instead of trying to fly back into delays and possible airport closures.

To offer confirmation, Ash walked over to a sliding glass door and flicked on a light switch. Outside, thick swirls of white enshrouded every inch.

“Oh my God.”

“We’ve got plenty of food and firewood and a generator in case we lose electricity.”

“You are crazy.” Who did that, driving to a remote cabin, intentionally cutting yourself off from civilization in the midst of a massive storm? I could practically hear my mother’s voice in my ear, asking if we had enough canned goods and had we checked for batteries in all of the flashlights.

“Yeah, I am. But I’ll take good care of you while we’re here.” He smiled and I felt the start, just the slightest start of something else in me. Something not like a headache or a hangover or storm-induced panic. Something warm in response.

“Are you hungry? I’m not much of a cook but I can boil some mean pasta.”

My stomach rumbled in response. I realized I hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. It was loud enough that he heard it and, chuckling, he headed into the kitchen.

I sat on the couch. Not only did my legs not exactly feel like standing up, I wasn’t ready to cheerfully pitch in on a romantic cabin dinner together. I still felt so disoriented. Hadn’t I been wanting a break from Ash?

It was still hard to remember much of last night, but I could remember feeling like I needed to get away. Catching glimpses of Ash with all those celebrities. We’d been in the same room and yet I’d felt miles apart. I’d been filled with the conviction that things were wrong between us and couldn’t be set right.

Then he emerged from the kitchen in a T-shirt and jeans, walking toward me in wool socks. It was the socks that did me in. They looked warm and homey and not at all cool. He carried two heaping bowls of pasta, topped with red sauce and parmesan cheese.

“Sorry, I just guessed that you liked sauce and cheese. I should have asked first.”

“Oh, you think? Is asking first a good idea?” I couldn’t help but jab him. You couldn’t just drag a passed-out woman off into a remote cabin in the wilderness. People didn’t do that sort of thing. Even if the cabin was like something out of a home decorating show, with accents of burnished bronze and charming antique snowshoes displayed above the fireplace. What was the ceiling, like 25 feet high? Not that something like that would impress me enough to forget how very wrongly he’d behaved.

I set my mouth into a scowl. But I couldn’t keep it like that, not as I forked a large bite of pasta into my mouth. Spaghetti, al dente. Yes, I was sure the sauce came from a jar but I could tell it was a fancy jar, some kind of gourmet sauce that probably cost over $10 a pop. I couldn’t stop a moan from escaping my mouth as I licked my lips.

“This is good.” I admitted, looking over at him. He was fixated on my lips, right where my tongue had last traveled. Heat flared up in me, but I tamped it down. What had Ash been thinking, kidnapping me like a caveman? He’d practically thrown me over his big, broad shoulder, taking me here alone where he could ravish me all day and all night. Uh oh, there was that flush again. I kept my eyes focused on my pasta and ate a while in silence.

I cleared my plate. “Thank you,” I said, placing it down on a coffee table. “I was starving.”

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, settled next to me on the couch.

I nodded. I was. Still tired, my limbs felt heavy, but the pounding in my head was subsiding. Sitting there by the crackling warmth of the fire, Ash starting to play with a lock of my hair, I had to admit I was feeling all sorts of things. But confused was one of them.

“I’m all mixed up,” I confessed, for lack of a more sophisticated way of saying it. I guessed that was the thing about feeling mixed up, you were too mixed up to express it in a clear, coherent fashion. “I was going to leave today but you kidnapped me. The thing is, Ash, we live in completely different worlds.”

“Not right now we don’t.”

I sighed. “Not right now. But right now isn’t reality.”

“It is right now.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

He smiled slightly and kept right on twirling my hair around his finger, stroking it in the firelight. “I’m sorry you’re feeling mixed up. But I’m not sorry I kidnapped you.”

I nudged him with my elbow. “Do you realize how crazy you sound?”

He nodded. “I feel even crazier.”

Something about the husky note in his voice made me swallow. I felt so aware of his hand in my hair. This man’s physical presence affected me like no other. I’d been practically at death’s door a few hours ago, and here he was, breathing life right back into me with every stroke, every touch. A slight shiver whispered down my spine.

“Cold?” he whispered, drawing closer.

I shook my head no. He knew I wasn’t cold. He knew how he affected me. But I was still angry with him. Or at least I was supposed to be, wasn’t I?

“Want to warm up in a bath?” he whispered. “There’s a huge tub in the master suite. I could work out all of your knots.” He dropped his hand to the nape of my neck and pressed, massaging me right where I realized I did have some sore, aching muscles. A bath would feel like heaven.

He stood up. “Come on.” He extended his hand, his black hair rumpled in an un-styled way I found even more appealing than his usual sexy coif. “Let me make you feel good.”

I knew I should still be stomping my foot, maybe even yelling at him. Last night I’d resolved that I needed some space, and here he’d up and stolen me away. To his remote and fabulous cabin in the midst of the wilderness where no one could find us. It was just the two of us. Hmm.

The slightest smidge of reluctance still slowing my movements, I placed my hand in his.

True to his word, the tub in the master bath was gigantic. Fit for a king, I’d never seen anything like it. He turned on the faucets and steaming water began flowing out, rapidly filling up the basin. Outside, the wind howled and the storm raged, but inside we were safe and warm.

Ash turned to me and slowly unzipped my borrowed hoodie, slipping it down over my shoulders. I was completely bare underneath it. I didn’t remember if I’d taken off my bra from last night or not, but then I stopped wondering as he slipped his hands inside my waistband and pulled down my pants. I stepped out in just my panties and I could tell by the way he looked at me, the way his breathing picked up, he wanted to do more than look. But he held back.

“Turn around,” he instructed me and with gentle hands, he caressed my back, hips. Then he slowly drew my panties down my thighs, down to my ankles.

“Why don’t you slip into the bath?” he suggested, his voice sounding husky. The water was already halfway full, steam rising from the surface. I couldn’t resist. Dipping in one foot, then the other, I sank down into heaven.

“Oh.” I exhaled, eyes closed, my body absolutely crying out for a soak. I ducked under, submerging every inch into the heat, before rising up again with a sigh of pleasure.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Mmmm,” was all I could manage. I might have died and passed into the next world, the feeling was so relaxing, so soothing.

“Here, give me your foot.” Ash reached down and cupped one of my feet in the palm of his hand. I let him move me more than extended my foot to him, and he took my bliss to a whole new level, slowly massaging my foot with his deft fingers.

“Ooh.” I moaned as he pressed his thumbs into the center of my foot. Oh dear Lord, he was so good at touching me, every part of me. How could a woman stay angry at a man who fixed a roaring fire, made her dinner, drew her a bath and then massaged her feet? It was scientifically proven, the level of anger ran inversely proportionate to the level of pleasure. And just then pleasure flooded through me.

He moved to the other foot and I would have promised him anything, mountains of rubies, the Mediterranean Sea, all sorts of things I didn’t have and never would, just to keep him touching me that way. Maybe this whole kidnapping thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Around at the other end of the tub, Ash brought his hands to my wet shoulders. He drew my hair to the side and began to rub my aching muscles. I must have slept in all kinds of funny positions because every muscle in my back and neck cried out for attention. Ash gave it. With magic fingers, he pressed and pulled, kneaded and worked me until I felt so flush and pliant beneath his touch. All of the tensions dissolved straight out of me into the swirling mass of bubbles, and I leaned back into his touch.

“Still mad at me?” he asked in a low voice by my ear.

“I was going to go to New York.” I managed to not entirely cave immediately.

“You can’t go anywhere in this storm.”

“I could have flown out of Vegas.”

“Yes, but I wanted you all to myself.”

Now he started in on my scalp, massaging in some shampoo, working his fingers in circles, stroking my temples. Turned out thinking got even harder when a man did that.

“You didn’t like that party last night,” he murmured to me. What I’d found so troubling now sounded so soothing coming out of his mouth.

“It’s not my scene.” I pictured all the flash and glam, the showy see-and-be-seen vibe, the frenetic energy of everyone pushing for the spotlight.

“It’s not mine, either. Not anymore.” Ash’s voice felt nearly hypnotic, the light down low, the warm water swirling around my languid limbs. But what did he mean? He was a rock star. He strutted and posed better than anyone I’d ever seen.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who you are,” I confessed, relaxation drawing pure honesty from me.

“Let me show you.”

He took a warm sprayer and rinsed my hair, then brought his hands back down to my shoulders, my back, my chest, rubbing, stroking, caressing, massaging.

“Ana,” he murmured, and his voice sounded so enticing, so deep and sexy I felt a low throb between my thighs. “There’s something I want to talk with you about. But I want you in the right headspace before I do.”

I felt so languid under his hands, so mesmerized by his touch, his nearness. Like he’d cast a spell on me, turning one sort of ache in my body into an entirely new sort. An ache nonetheless, but this ache felt so good.

“Yes, Ash.” I’d talk to him about anything.

“Are you ready to come out of the bath?”

I nodded and he helped me out, then wrapped me in a giant, soft towel. I dried my limbs and then he took it from me, leaving me pink and warm and entirely naked.

“Come with me.” He led me into the master bedroom. Huge and dark, he snapped on a soft lamp on the bedside table. The bed looked enormous, more than a king, with an elaborate headboard and large posts on all four corners. He pushed some of the dozens of pillows to the side, turned down the heavy satin comforter, and welcomed me into soft sheets.

I eased in, the sheets caressing my limbs. Still with his clothes on, he slipped in behind me, spooning my back to his front. With a long, luscious exhale, I sank back into him. I loved his masculine smell, the big, solid feel of him against me, the way we fit together, my ass back into his groin.

“Anika.” He breathed my name into my neck, kissing me there as I arched back my head. Licking, sucking, he kept it gentle, worshipping my skin. But against the soft skin of my buttocks I could feel his urgency, the hard, pressing need he still had zipped up in his pants. I wanted him out of them, the feel of his skin against mine, the heat we created once we both stripped down.

“It’s going to snow for days,” he whispered into my ear, licking the edge, sending shivers down the length of my body. Why did his words thrill me? Not long ago I’d been worried about flashlights. Now I hoped the storm would never end.

He brought his hand down to my hip and waist and caressed me, making me so aware of my soft, feminine curves against his solid, male hardness. I ground my ass back into his shaft and heard him suck in his breath, his fingers digging into my skin.

“You’re so responsive, Ana,” he praised me, continuing his explorations, weaving his fingers down my thighs, up my stomach, around my shoulder. My breathing quickened and I could feel heat building up in my core, my need for him starting to burn.

“It’s like your body was made for me.” He licked and kissed my shoulder, weaving his fingers along my waist, marking, worshipping every inch. So warm, so completely naked, I came alive under his fingers, slowly stroking, building. There in the dark, there was something so hot about the way he was holding me. Something so possessive, so carnal about the way he fastened my hip to his as he bit into my neck. I couldn’t see his face, didn’t know what he’d do next and it felt secret and naughty there in the dark, just the two of us.

I wanted more of him. I could feel the length of his cock pressing into my backside, the long, hard ridge teasing me, so close yet still under lock and key. One of my arms was pinned under my body, but the other one was free. Slowly, stealthily, I reached it back and found his hips. I grabbed onto him, pulling him against my ass at the same time as I ground back into him. There, like that, I showed him with my body how I wanted him to take me, from behind, just like that.

“Put your hand back on your thigh,” he growled, sounding harsh and commanding. Shocked, a little embarrassed, I did as he told me, removing my naughty hand and putting it back where it belonged. Chastened, I stilled my body.

“Anika.” His voice caressed me, his breath teasing my bare neck. “I want to teach you how good you can feel.” He dropped his mouth to my sensitive skin and gave me a slow lick, then murmured into me, “Do you want to feel good, baby?”

I practically melted into him with a sigh. But I kept my hand where he’d told me and part of me still felt on edge, that heightened awareness. Had he not liked it when I’d grabbed him?

“I love how much you want me,” he said, as if sensing my questions and offering reassurance. “It feels good when you show me how much you need me. Remember how you rode me last night?”

I felt heat flush through me, some shyness still mingling in there with the arousal of remembering how I’d attacked him backstage, grabbing his cock and shoving my pussy down onto every inch of him.

“That was good, Ana. Remember how I came?” I moaned as I did remember it, our sweat mingling, his deep groan, the way he’d clamped his hand over my mouth to muffle my own orgasmic cries. “I remember how you came on my cock.”

My pussy practically dripped at his words, visceral memory gripping my body. I could feel his long, hard cock still pushing into my behind, his tense, ready need there as he spoke. I wanted to push back into him again. But he’d stopped me last time. So I didn’t move.

“There’s a whole other kind of pleasure, Ana. Pleasure I want to introduce you to. But it comes from restraint.”

My mouth opened into a pant when he said the word. I didn’t know what he meant by it, but it conjured up visions, fantasies I’d had of being taken, controlled, bound. Was that what he meant?

He had one arm around me, under my head. He brought his large, rough palm to the top my chest, right at the base of my neck. The other hand he trailed along my curves, up, up, until he cupped my breast. I stilled under his touch, hyper-aware of it in the dark, wanting it so much more.

“Look down at your breast, Anika.” I looked down, my mouth agape with arousal. Even in the dim light I could see the contrast of our skin, my soft breast pale in his calloused fingers. “Keep your hand down at your side.” I hadn’t realized it, but my hand had started to inch over, closer to the inside of my thighs. I was so horny. I wanted to touch myself. He’d liked watching me do that once. I could make myself come so quickly, I knew I could. But right now, he wouldn’t let me. And for some reason that sent a new flood of heat straight to my sex.

“I want you to look down and watch me touch you. But do not move. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I moaned my response, quiet, hushed, my attention rapt and fixed on his movements. He had long, dexterous fingers and he used them with the utmost skill, stroking, cupping, massaging. But he didn’t touch my nipples, my aching, peaked buds thrust up and begging for his attention. He must see how stiff they had become. He’d played with my nipples before so he knew what an erogenous zone they were for me, how his touch sent a direct, electric charge straight to my clit. But he didn’t touch them. He gave love and attention to every inch of my breasts but not my aching, throbbing, stiff nipples. Why? A whimper escaped my parted lips.

He growled down into my neck, grabbing my breast harder. I sucked in my breath. His claim on me felt so good. “Are you thinking about what you want, Ana?” He stroked, teased, circled, but did not touch where I needed him most. I nodded my head yes.

“You’re thinking about how good it feels when I touch your nipples, aren’t you? When I kiss.” He brought his lips to my shoulder and used his full, warm lips to kiss me there, reminding me how good it would feel. I moaned and shivered with need. “When I lick.” He licked me, long and slow, and I could feel how it would be on my sensitive, aching tips.

“When I suck.” Oh God, now he was sucking on my shoulder and I could feel my pussy tighten, a quivering, throbbing pleasure shooting up inside of me. In a low, wicked voice, he added, “When I bite.” He sank his teeth into my shoulder. I gasped and I swear I almost came, almost had an intense orgasm from the feel of that pain, imagining what sweet relief it would be if he sank his teeth into my nipple, right where it hurt, right where it would shoot such sensation, such pleasure directly to my sex.

He pulled back, took his hand off my breast, but still held me against him. He trailed one finger along my hip again, and I came down off the edge of my near-orgasm. Still panting, still throbbing, still without relief.

“Do you see how the mind is a powerful aphrodisiac? You almost came right from thinking about what you wanted me to do to you. Didn’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” I admitted, still surprised myself how close he’d taken me. All from his suggestive words. And his denying me what I most wanted.

“There’s so much need in you, Ana. So tightly coiled.” He pressed his palm against my lower abdomen and I moaned, knowing he was right. He caressed my hips, my inner thighs. I parted for him, hoping he’d stroke me, wanting him to run his fingers along my slick slit. But he kept talking instead.

“I want to tap into that desire, Ana.”

“I think you have.” I had to laugh. Did the man think he hadn’t turned me on? He’d given me more orgasms in the past week than I may have had in my entire life. They were certainly more intense than any I’d ever had before. But wait, there was more?

“We’ve been enjoying each other, Ana. But there’s more. There’s so much more.”

I closed my eyes, wanting to believe it was true, but unable to imagine it. He already thrilled me so much. In the dark, he slid his hand along my hip and around my leg. Along the inside of my thigh, he stroked his rough fingers, parting my legs, making me moan.

“Does that feel good?” he asked in a low murmur.

“Mmmm.” My eyes still closed, I let the sensations cascade over me. I purred under his touch. I wanted to push back against him, wanted to reach my hand back and grasp his cock. I could feel him up against me, the long, masculine steel of him. He was so close.

But he’d told me not to move my hand, so I kept it on my upper thigh. It almost drove me crazy to not slide it back further. Inches away, I could grasp him in an instant. I knew he’d like it. He’d make that hiss of pleasure and I’d feel his thick shaft, the male length of him growing even harder in my hands.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?” Ash asked. I bit back my frustration and a whimper sounded low in my throat.

“You want to wrap your hand around my cock. And you’re so good at it, Ana. You make me so hard.” He pressed his shaft against the soft flesh of my ass and I almost cried out in frustration. Why was he torturing me? Torturing us?

“How does it feel to hold back, Ana?” His breath hot on the nape of my neck, the question felt so intimate. There in the dark, just the two of us, I felt like I could be completely honest.

“Frustrating. Confusing. But…” I panted, fire licking up my thighs where he touched me, desire throbbing in my core. “I’m so turned on.”

“Yes.” He stroked me, finally up at my slit. With two of his long fingers, he drew them across my pussy. “I can feel you are.” I could tell I was dripping wet, the way he slid against me, so slick, so easy. That’s how it would be if he finally moved his cock against me, finally brought it to my entrance, finally entered me. So slick and hot and easy.

“You want, but you can’t have, Ana. Not yet. How does that make you feel?” He pressed against my swollen clit and I moaned, desperate for it. Filled with wanting. He began stroking me in a rhythm, still slow, but building, building. “Tell me how you feel, Ana.”

“Please, Ash,” I called out, not above begging. He knew exactly how to touch me to break down all my defenses.

“Some of this desire, Ana? It’s from wanting but being denied. Being so close but not able to get it.” I could feel his cock pressing into me and that was exactly it. His nearness, his need so close to my own but not released, not unleashed.

Suddenly he grasped my wrist and brought is up behind my back, pressed into the center. It didn’t hurt, but it surprised me and I gasped. The feel of it, how he held me, hard, twisting my arm up behind me.

“Now I’m controlling you, Anika. I’m restraining you, binding your arm back. Do you see how you’re more vulnerable now?”

I opened my eyes and saw it, how large he was behind me, how securely he had me fastened, how very naked I was and how erotic it looked as he forced me to arch my back into him, my breasts and aroused nipples thrust up into the air.

“How does it feel with me in control?”

I groaned at his words, but more from the feel of it. To be ensnared by him, trapped, at his mercy, in the dark. It got me, deep. A tense coil of desire unfurled within me, draining thought from my mind, leaving me panting with need.

“So slick, so wet for me, Ana.” His fingers found my sex once again, plunging in me deep, then slowly drawing against my clit. “Holding you here like this, I can play with you all I like. I decide how I want you, how long I take with you.”

“Ah,” I gasped, overwhelmed with the feel of it. He consumed every sense.

“That’s it, surrender. Surrender to how good it feels. Surrender to me.” His words spun a spell around me, entrancing my senses, leaving me unable to think, only to feel, to sense, to love every second of it.

“Let me control your pleasure, Ana,” he coaxed me, his wicked fingers stroking, thrusting. I felt so warm and liquid under his touch. “I want you to think about what you fantasize about when you touch yourself, Ana. Picture your most secret fantasies. The ones you surrender to when you’re alone in bed, late at night. The fantasies you feel guilty about having. The ones that are wrong.”

Oh, his words were so wicked, so sinful, wrapping themselves around me as his fingers stroked, parting me, plunging into me. How did he know I had dark fantasies? The kinds of things I only allowed myself to think about as I brought myself to orgasm, when I stroked myself late at night. I had never voiced them aloud. But I fantasized about being dominated, controlled, possessed. Bound.

“The next few days, we’re going to be trapped here in this cabin. Snowed in. It will be our private world, just the two of us. No one ever has to know what we do.”

I quivered at his words, my core liquid fire. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. My breath came fast.

“Give yourself to me, Anika.” His fingers stroked as his voice coated me in velvet seduction. “Surrender to me.”

I moaned, close to coming, close to overflowing with his stroking, his coaxing.

“It will be our secret, Ana. Let me possess you, bind you, control you the way no one ever has. Let me release the pleasure in you. More than you’d ever dreamed.

“Yes, Ash!” I cried out, wanting every word he said, craving him, all of it.

“You have to trust me, Ana. Give yourself over to me. Give me total control. Can you do that? Can you let yourself be completely vulnerable?”

“Yes.” The word escaped from me, needing to be released. Trusting him, giving myself over to him was my instinct, my need. I couldn’t not do it.

“I can’t wait to learn your fantasies, Ana. To discover them together.” There in the dark, the snow swirling around us, cut off from the world, I was ready to let it all go. I was ready to let him lead me wherever he wanted. I knew I’d love wherever he took me.

“But not tonight,” he said, withdrawing his hand, gently bringing my arm down and back along my side. “Tonight you need to rest.”

Gentle, soothing, he drew the sheet up over me, smoothed the down comforter up and over my shoulders.

“Ash?” He’d taken me so close, right up to the edge, and I still buzzed, still hummed with need. But I could also feel the drowsiness, the languorous slumber pulling at me, reaching me in deep.

“It’s going to take a lot of energy, what I have planned. I want you to be fully present.” He stroked my hair as he spoke, arranging the pillows for my comfort.

“I can’t wait to drive you stark raving mad with pleasure. But tonight I want you to go to sleep. You’ve been through a lot. You need to rest.”

The pulse, the throb between my legs, I didn’t know if I could. One touch down there and I could bring myself to orgasm, give myself satisfaction.

As if he could read my mind, he added with a wicked smile, “But don’t touch yourself. I know you’re slick with need. I want you to fall asleep like that, let it bring you dreams, spinning out your fantasies. Heightening your anticipation.”

Heavy under the covers, I could already feel it happening. My eyelids dropped, my limbs sank into the mattress.

“That’s it, Ana.” He leaned down and kissed my hair. “So sweet. Sleep now.” Sleep drifted over me, like the snow outside, piling up and covering me in a thick, heavy, restful blanket.