Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

I’m getting the best fucking view of your tits in that corset, the way you’re bent over like that. Keep working your ass against my cock. I’m going to explode.” A stinging slap on her thigh resulted in a pleasurable spasm in her pussy. “Not too much of the same rhythm, now. You keep your mind on pleasing me and not getting yourself off. That’s for later.”

Easier said than done. Damn, he was too intuitive. She varied the rhythm, but kept on with the dancing, switched back to a front straddle and rocked herself in front of his face.

Holding on to his shoulders, she got her knees up onto the bed, her back immediately supported by his hands as she leaned back into his strength and figure-eighted her way across his cock. She had to be dampening his jeans, because she was soaked again.

Before her accident, she would have had the stomach muscles to hold the position for a longer time. Now, though, her muscles burning, she had to back off, but he slid her down and around, to cradle her in his lap. Closing his hand on the strap, he tugged on it near the D-ring, his fingers playing in her deep cleavage.

“Whose sweet slave are you?”

“Yours, Master,” she said hoarsely. God, she remembered how she’d wondered if she’d ever find this, the one who could chain her, yet make her feel like her wings could stretch farther than she’d ever thought possible. Was it still possible to fly if you had to see yourself another way, through another’s eyes?

Lust suddenly torn between something more serious, she touched his face, the slope of tough jaw. Felt him still as he picked up on her mood. “If I’d known it was going to be the last time I was going to see you . . .”

“It wasn’t.” Cupping her hands, he pressed them harder to him. “If you let me into your soul, let yourself be inside mine, you’ll always see me more clearly than anyone.”

“How do you know that?”

He brought his mouth close, touched hers. “You were miles and miles away for over a year, but I saw you every day, sweetheart. Every fucking day.”

Ten

They were meeting at Lucas and Cassandra Adler’s home, and taking a limo from there to the club. Peter had helped her don a wrap-around short black dress that was open in the front to show the corset’s tenuous grasp on her breasts, and stockings with slim garters.

He’d also left the collar on. She was a little discomfited, but he told her she looked like a sexy woman with a penchant for Goth jewelry. From his possessive, lingering touch on her thighs as he helped her don the stockings, she realized he’d integrated them for her confidence, not because he felt any part of her needed concealment. When his hands touched her, all she felt was his desire and pleasure in touching her flesh.

As he handed her into his car and made sure her seat belt was secure, then dropped a kiss on the top of one breast, she drew in a shaky breath. The butterflies in her stomach were throwing rock grenades. She inhaled Peter’s aftershave as he got in, a big man getting behind the wheel, making the car rock. He’d already turned on the seat heater for her, and she was grateful for the warmth coming through the upholstery, since the evening air had a nip.

“What kind of car is this?”

“You after my money now? Gold digger.”

“Gram always said a good man with money was as easy to love as a good man with

none.” She sniffed. “But I’m only after your body, Captain.”

“Well, then.” He covered her cold hand with his, squeezed. As he rubbed a soothing thumb over her knuckles, he leaned over, brushed a kiss along the back of her ear, nuzzling there. Sliding his fingers into the seam of her thighs, he pressed until she parted them. “Leave them like that,” he whispered into the microphone of her hearing aid so she caught the sensual purr close up. “I want to play with your pussy while I drive. I’m going to keep you talking the whole way, so I can hear your voice break as I get you hotter and hotter.”

As a distraction technique, it was unbeatable, tangling her nerves back up into full-blown lust until she could barely think. By the time they pulled into the Adlers’ driveway, her breath was fast and shallow. The tiny thong was in danger of dripping, she was sure. But she heard a console opening, a moment before he pressed an absorbent cloth against her, making her start up against his hand and grind herself there like a wanton, her hand falling onto his forearm, gripping it for an anchor.

“I’m making you into a mindless little slut, aren’t I?” He murmured it against her ear again, his body close and hard next to her. Lunging, she met his lips in hot, openmouthed need, and thank God, he didn’t deny her. He captured her movement, controlling it with a hand to her nape. Sucking on her tongue, he thrust his in with a demand that incinerated even hers. When his hand sealed over her pussy, not to stroke but to grip, a reminder of his possession, she moaned against his lips.

“Remember,” he growled as he broke free at last, “that you’re my mindless little slut.”

“Yes, Master,” she breathed, even as she trembled. Her fantasies hadn’t done justice to a Master this dominant, one so overwhelming. The healthy, whole Dana would have loved it, but this Dana wondered if it would be too easy to give in to it, damn him to a life of watching after her physical shortcomings. In truth he seemed completely

comfortable—or totally oblivious—to such shortcomings. That might be dangerous, too, because his confidence might make her crazy enough to start believing this was possible.

Peter Winston was as sure as hell of himself, which made her hope all the more painful.

Two