Sweet Persuasion

With growing confidence, she placed her other hand to her wet breast and began massaging the fluid over her skin. She swayed sensuously as she rubbed and caressed.



Her body was hypersensitive to her every touch. He’d driven her so close to her release just by attaining his own. He hadn’t touched her to bring her to orgasm in any way, but yet she verged on the brink. Hovering. Aching. So close. So very close. If she could just get her hands lower . . .



Strong hands gripped her wrists, and he pulled her hands away from her skin. Without a word, he directed the water so that it poured over her body, and he began to rinse the conditioner from her hair.



Again, with no attempt to arouse, he washed her until her hair was clean and the remnants of his orgasm were gone from her skin.



“Stay here,” he said as he turned the water off and stepped from the shower.



She watched as he quickly dried his naked body. He wiped the last of the moisture from his skin and then gave his hair a quick tussle before tossing the towel aside and picking up another.



He reached in to take her hand and drew her out of the shower. He started with her hair, squeezing the excess water from the strands. Then he worked down, patting her skin with the soft towel.



When he was finished, he dropped the towel and pulled her against the warmth of his body. He cradled her perfectly. They meshed so well, her softness conforming to his harder planes.



He just stood there, his heart beating softly against her throat. His hands smoothed deliciously over her back and down to her buttocks before traveling up her arms. His right hand came to rest at the cuff she wore on her left arm, and he stroked it for a moment, as if pleased by the ornament she wore. For him.



“Come, it’s time to feed you and put you to bed.”



She bristled the slightest bit because he made her sound like a pet or even a child. But as his hands moved sensuously over her shoulders as he turned her in the direction of the bedroom, those thoughts, and her irritation, fled.



To her relief, the tray of food was already delivered and sitting on a table by the bed, which meant she didn’t have to face any hired help in the nude. The sheets and covers had been pulled back and the pillows repositioned at the head of the bed.



Damon, it seemed, did indeed like his creature comforts.



He gestured for her to climb onto the bed, and it was only after she crawled onto the plush mattress that she saw the rope and satin cuffs secured to the bedpost on her side of the bed.



She glanced back uncertainly at Damon, but his expression didn’t change. He expected obedience, and his stance didn’t offer any alternative.



He waited until she turned around and settled against the pillows before he reached for her left hand. She watched in shocked fascination as he pulled the rope with the cuff from the bedpost and secured the cuff around her wrist. Silently, he captured her other hand and brought it around to the small of her back where he secured it with the other cuff so that her hands were bound together behind her.



She wasn’t even going to ask the obvious question of how the hell she was going to eat, because after his speech and countless reminders of how he would take care of her every need, she had a suspicion of just how she was going to consume her food.



“Are you comfortable?” he asked as he stood by the bed.



She nodded. And she was. The bed was wonderfully soft. Not too soft, though. It molded to her body, contouring perfectly as it cradled her. It would be heaven to sleep on.



Satisfied with her response, he walked around to the other side where the dinner tray sat, and he sat on the bed beside her. After spending a few moments preparing a plate from the dishes arranged on the cart, he then scooted back against the pillows and sat cross-legged, the plate resting on his lap.



It smelled wonderful.



There was roasted chicken with scalloped potatoes and a decadent looking chocolate dessert waiting on the side.



Damon cut into the chicken, arranging bite-sized portions on the plate. When he was finished, he forked one of the pieces and held it to her lips.



For a moment she simply stared at him, wondering why she didn’t feel ill at ease at what he proposed to do. He waited, patiently, the chicken resting lightly on her bottom lip. Finally she opened her mouth, and he carefully slid the fork inside.



How strange that he could make the act of feeding her, as though she were helpless, so intimate and loving. There was such tenderness to his actions, such regard for her, that she couldn’t muster any discomfort over him feeding her while she sat there, bound and naked, in his bed.



Even more curious was the way he made her crave his attention. As soon as he gave her one bite, she hungered for another, not because of the food but because of his regard.



He alternated feeding her with taking his own part of the meal. She watched the bites slide into his mouth, watched his lips run over the tines of the fork that her mouth had touched. His warmth still lingered on the metal when he next placed it in her mouth.



When it slid from her lips, clean, he trailed it gently down her chin, down the column of her neck and to her chest. The tines were lightly abrasive, scratching along her skin, eliciting a shiver in their wake.



He topped the rise of her breast and ever so lightly skimmed the tip over her nipple. Her shoulders shook, making her breasts bob, which rubbed her nipple rapidly across the fork.



When he pulled it away, her breaths were coming in shallow bursts. How much more teasing could she take before the need for her orgasm drove her to insanity? She ached. Her pussy ached. Her breasts strained, so tight and sensitive that each brush across them was agonizing.



He returned to his plate, carefully picking at the remainder of the food. He fed her three more bites before pushing the cart away from the bed.



When he rolled back over to face her, he reached behind her back to free her hands. But before she could pull them in front of her, he merely repositioned her arms over her head and refastened the cuffs around her wrists.



“Find a comfortable position,” he directed.



As best as she could, she shimmied down until she was lying on her back, her head nestled among the pillows. He tested her bonds and instructed her to roll right and then left. Satisfied that she could move freely, he pulled away and ran his hand freely down her body.



He rested on his side next to her, his head propped in his palm as he regarded her with contented eyes.



“Before we go to sleep, I thought I should acquaint you with more of my expectations so that you aren’t taken by surprise,” he said.



She raised an eyebrow at that. He’d been pretty darn clear in what he expected. What else could there be? But she didn’t voice that thought, and she waited for him to continue.



He smiled. “You wanted to object. I admire your restraint, but more than that, I am pleased by your desire to please me.”



Not knowing what to say to that or if he required a response, she remained silent.



“Sex,” he said. “Your body is mine to do with what I want. This means that I take you when I want, how I want, sometimes with your pleasure in mind, sometimes with mine. It is at my discretion as to when you achieve satisfaction.”



He waited as though expecting her to speak, but she was figuring this out pretty quickly. He wanted compliance, and so she would give it to the best of her ability.



Again, he looked pleased when she merely waited for him to continue.



“It is a particular pleasure of mine to have sex when I awaken, when my mind is still clouded with sleep but my body craves the sweetness of a woman. I’ll mount you while you are tied to my bed, helpless to do anything but give me what I demand.”



She closed her eyes and pressed her thighs together to try and alleviate the burn. He was going to make her come with no more than his voice.



A finger trailed over the swell of her breast and then circled her puckered nipple.



“You questioned me about why I wanted you nude at all times. Part of the reason is that I find the female body the truest form of art. I like to enjoy it. I like to gaze upon it, especially when I know it belongs to me. The main reason, however, is that I intend to enjoy unimpeded access to your body. I like the idea of being able to fuck you when I want, how I want. I can enjoy your mouth, your pussy and your ass with little more than the effort it takes to bend you over the couch, or my chair or my lap. As you walk by, I can reach out and take you. I can press you against the wall and take you from behind. You won’t deny me. I won’t allow it. Unless you are injured or ill. Or you say no. Once you say no, it ends.



“So you see, Serena, despite all the power you have ceded me, it still rests very much in your hands. You have complete and utter control over your fantasy because with one word, it all ends.”



She was balanced precariously on the edge of the sharpest of orgasms. She was going to come despite the fact that he hadn’t touched her more intimately than on her breasts. Flash images of him taking her in all the ways he described battered her mind. Her body swelled and quivered. Oh God, it was coming, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.



As she fought the inevitable, suddenly Damon was over her, spreading her legs with urgent hands. He rammed into her, and her gasp of surprise quickly became a shrill cry of release. As soon as his cock reached its depths within her, her orgasm exploded with vicious ferocity.



Her vision blurred as he humped over her body, his hips pummeling hers with speed and strength. Her body wasn’t her own. It had broken into tiny little pieces, sharp and jagged. Pleasure foamed in her groin, swelling and splintering outward, and still he thrust. Deeper. Harder. Unmerciful.



Her pussy, tender and hypersensitive as it came down from her orgasm, protested as Damon’s cock dragged back and forth over the swollen tissues.



She moaned low in her throat, unsure of whether it was pain or pleasure that stabbed at her.



“Please,” she said hoarsely, but she wasn’t sure whether she was begging him to stop or not to stop.



“Your body is mine,” he said. “I take what is mine.”



“Yes, yours,” she murmured.



Faster he rocked against her hips, forcing her body up the bed until her bound hands slapped at the headboard with each thrust.



He reached underneath her and cupped her buttocks, tilting her upward as he plunged forward again. She gasped as he came to rest deeply within her.



Liquid heat filled her womb. His hips jerked spasmodically against her as he quivered with his release. For the longest time he remained locked within her as she sucked the last of his cum into her womb.



His body fell like a blanket over hers. He buried his face in her neck as he struggled for breath. There she lay, her hands above her head, her legs spread wide as the man who owned her lay between her thighs, her body full of his seed.



He was still hard within her, and he made no move to withdraw from her pussy.



“Sleep, Serena,” he murmured against her neck as his teeth nipped affectionately at her skin. “Tonight I’ll sleep buried inside you to remind you of my ownership. In the morning, after I’ve taken you again, I’ll bathe you and wash my seed from your body.”



CHAPTER 15



During the course of the night, Damon eased off her and rolled to the side. She registered it with hazy lethargy before falling back asleep.



When she next awoke, it was to urgent hands fumbling at her body, sliding over her breasts and down to her hips. Her eyes fluttered open as Damon moved over her even as he spread her legs wide and impatiently stabbed his cock at her opening.



In his impatience he bumped against her clit before repositioning himself. Then he found her entrance and slid deep, eliciting a gasp from her as she came fully awake. The remnants of last night’s interlude were dried on the inside of her thighs, but what remained inside her pussy, warm and wet, eased his passage.



Her arms strained at her bonds, but he held tight, and she was helpless beneath him as he sought to avail himself of her body.



There was no finesse to his movements, no attempt to pleasure her equally, but oddly, she was very much turned on by the roughness and crudity of his motions. Even as he thrust deeper and harder, his eyes clenched shut and his jaw tight, her pussy bloomed with fire.



She watched the strain of his muscles as each movement rippled through him. His hands clenched desperately at her waist, her hips, and then again at her waist as he buried himself repeatedly in her body.



The vulnerability of her position, how helpless she felt, ignited fierce arousal. He was using her. There was no other word to describe his actions, and yet she felt oddly content. Powerful, even.



He pressed her deeper into the bed as his tanned buttocks rose and fell over her. Flesh against flesh, the only sound that echoed through the room was the harsh slap of his body meeting hers and the soft grunts that somehow escaped his tightly closed mouth.



He spread her wide as he arched over her one last time. She could no longer control her cry when he drove impossibly deep.



Instead of retreating, he held firmly against her as he emptied himself into her. She could feel him in every inch of her pussy. She was stretched so tight around his cock, and her body was already sensitive and sore from the previous night.

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