Tie Me Up Read online

  I repeated, loudly, that I didn’t know what to do. I was sure that it would turn him off.

  Instead he smiled again, the smile of an angel fallen to earth for wicked deeds, and reached down towards where his suit jacket lay, a forgotten pile of crumpled linen on the ground.

  “Close your eyes.” I squinted suspiciously at him before I did so, my eyelids fluttering and trying to open when I felt a band of something silky loop around my wrists and pull tight.

  “No. Keep them closed.” I made a face, but I did as he said. I had a moment of intense anxiety when I thought about how stupid I must look, wearing rumpled pink polyester pajamas, kiss-smudged glasses perched precariously on my nose, hands tied above my head with what I was sure was the necktie that matched my heinous periwinkle bridesmaid’s dress.

  Then the sound of fabric tearing rent the air, and the blessed coolness that kissed my breasts was replaced with the burning sensation of calloused palms scraping at my sensitive skin.

  My eyes flew open. I couldn’t help it. He bit the fullness of his lower lip when he caught my gaze, and something snapped tight between us, a cord of togetherness that I’d never even imagined.

  I watched as those hands of his traveled down my body. As the tequila-gold fingers traced patterns over skin gone milky white in the gleam of the moon.

  A great shuddering breath escaped me when those hands urged my hips up, then tugged at the pink fabric that was still covering my legs.

  The spell that was weaving us together faltered for a moment when I realized that that same moonlight hid nothing. Revealed all of my scars. Shone especially brightly on the initials that had been carved into my abdomen by a piece of broken glass.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. What was I doing? He was going to walk away from me any minute, was going to run in disgust.

  Instead his eyes fixed on those initials, that hated tattoo, and he blinked. Once, twice, eyes shiny with something I couldn’t put a name to.

  Then he pressed the most tender of kisses, right on top of that spot, that spot that I hated more than anything else on my body. Branded it. Burned away the disgust.

  Tears filmed my eyes. Where had this man come from? How had such a beautiful person grown out of the boy that I knew?

  I tried to sit, to reach for him but couldn’t, not with my hands tied above my head. Instead he came to me, wrapped himself around me.

  Cushioned me. Protected me. Baptized me with his heat.

  I wanted. Oh, how I wanted.

  Straining, I wrapped naked legs around his lean hips. He held himself away for a moment, and I groaned a protest until I realized that he was removing his pants, was unbuttoning the rest of the fastenings on his shirt. It was worth the wait, that first touch of glove-soft skin against me. The friction of coarse hair on my clit, of intense pressure on my inner thigh.

  I arched my hips. I wanted him inside me. Instead he ground his hips against my own, his cock jutting into the tender flesh of my belly. Teasing himself. Teasing us both. I rocked against him, wanting more, more, more, frustrated that I couldn’t do anything else, not while restrained.

  When he pulled away again I nearly screamed.

  My noises of protestation and frustration faded into murmurs of want and need as lips and hands began to make their way down my body. A sharp nip at my earlobe, a tongue bathed over the curve of my neck. The swells of my breasts were petted, stroked, massaged, all but the aching tips, until finally a hot, wet mouth closed itself over one eager peak, while the other was rolled between firm fingers.

  Every flick of pressure on my nipples sent a tug through my womb and down to my cunt, which was growing wetter and wetter. I wanted him to stop—the pressure was too much.

  I wanted him to keep doing it forever.

  His mouth left my left breast with a moist pop. I groaned in disappointment, but his mouth had other work to do. It moved down, down, placing one more light kiss on my scar before nuzzling its way into the golden curls that lay below.

  I stiffened, even as the fingers still caressing my right breast had me shifting in uncomfortable want.

  I’d never had a man’s mouth between my legs. Never much wanted to. I didn’t groom myself there, didn’t see the need to, and couldn’t see why any man would want to journey into that dark, hidden valley.

  Then fingers were holding the flesh of my lower lips open, and the hot, moist mouth that had urged my own into spasms of delight breathed a warm fan over the sensitive flesh, and I began to understand.

  It didn’t take long—a few slow swipes with that tongue, a delicate and playful nibble right on the engorged flesh of my clit. I screamed so loudly when I came that no sound came out, the first orgasm that I’d had in years. The orgasm so easily coaxed from me.

  My mind flashed briefly away from pleasure and to the bubbling stew of emotions that I’d endured since becoming a teenager, and it came to me that it hadn’t been easy at all.

  But I deserved it. I deserved it, and I was going to take what I deserved.

  I urged Ethan back up my body with whispered words. Coaxed him into releasing me from my bonds. When he lifted a hand to stroke my cheek, I felt the last of my rigid reserves, the ones that I always held upright, crumbling. I knew that that was what was coming, that last barrier being broken down, and I resisted it mentally even as my body strained ever closer.

  He gave me a moment, gave me a chance to breathe.

  His lips were a mere whisper away from my own when I managed to force out, through my suddenly thick tongue, his name. He shushed me, but I felt that I needed to voice at least a token protest, so that I could, afterwards, tell myself that I had tried.

  “What’s going to happen in the morning? Is this going to be weird?” I burrowed my face into the delicious-smelling flesh of his neck. And it was a good question to ask, I reminded myself; having sex with Ethan could end disastrously. But my traitorous hormones were flatly refusing to acknowledge the warning signs that had long ago been drowned by pure lust and trust, and finally I uttered an oath and dragged his head down to mine.

  The new familiarity of his tastes, of mint and salt and man, assaulted my senses with a harsh slap that had me trying to pull away. How could I recognize them already? But he had me now, had me wrapped tightly in his embrace, and it seemed that he wasn’t intending to let me go anytime soon.

  A thrill rocketed through my body when his hands, those lean golden hands, pressed at my flesh, bruising the soft skin. Sliding his hands roughly up from where they had been tightly clasping my waist, he filled his wide palms full of rich apricot flesh, kneading and stroking until my heart beat so hard between us that I was sure he must have been able to feel every pulse of my blood in his fingertips.

  Arching my back, I tangled my fingertips in the wealth of blue-black hair on his head, hair that smelled faintly of sage and of thyme, and pushed his face down into my cleavage. As he greedily inhaled, I busied my hands, exploring the solid planes of his shoulders, his muscled back, his trim waist.

  The sweat that the heat of the night and the fire between us had coaxed out of our skin sealed our flesh to the cheap plastic of the lounge chair. It pulled and tore uncomfortably at my skin. Noticing, Ethan pulled me to my feet, and we stood naked in the middle of Evie’s fragrant herb garden.

  I would have fallen had he not had his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. Supported as I was, I let my fingers slip in between our flesh, dancing my curious digits over the hard planes of his chest and lower.

  The presence of that rippled stomach was a mystery to me, for I knew that the majority of Ethan’s days were spent inside, bent over a calculator. But right now I couldn’t say that I much cared how they happened to be there, so long as I had the privilege of touch and of taste.

  And touch I did, taste I did, brazenly dropping to my knees in front of him, lathing his hot flesh with kisses the entire way. When I wrapped my hand tightly around his erection, and pumped my clenched fingers up and down the pulsating length, he groaned a
nd fisted his hands in the gleaming length of my hair, pushing me forwards until the smoothness of my lips tasted the burning tang of his cock.

  The rosy flush of my tongue peeked out from the curves of my mouth to slide, warm and wet, up and down. When his breath hitched in on a strangled moan, I took the low-hanging sac, lightly dusted with crisp, curling hair, into the moist cavern of my mouth; my hands continued to stroke, hard and merciless.

  When the hot length that I rolled between my palms began to jerk unsteadily, Ethan yanked me to my feet, tangling his fingers again in the length of my hair and pulling until I stood before him, naked and vulnerable. Flaws exposed. Taking a step backwards, trying to gain a surer footing, I tripped on one of the large frames that Evie kept filled with most soil, soil that she used to grow herbs and vegetables. Though Ethan reached out to steady me, our combined weight only served to throw us both off balance, and we landed hard in the muck.

  And still he didn’t let go. With his not inconsiderable weight pressing me into the soft earth, I felt I was sinking; when his firm fingers slid into my liquid heat I was anchored again, and saved. My hands grasped blindly at the tasty-smelling flesh, leaving smears of mud wherever they touched. I felt the earth beneath me giving in to our weight, parting, allowing entrance, much as my own body was preparing to do for his.

  The scent of rich soil mingled in my nostrils with the tangy and unexpected smell of Ethan’s hair, and again with the thick aroma of our sex, a musk so dense that I could have eaten it with a spoon. When his lips again crushed mine, I buried myself in the kiss, tongues tangling in a torrid tango, wrestling almost, each of us trying to gain control.

  When Ethan’s questing fingers discovered a particularly moist patch of earth, he palmed it, lifted it to spread over the soft roundness of my belly. My body jerked in protest at the unexpected coolness; once it adjusted, I couldn’t help but purr in delight at the sensation of the moist globs of earth tickling my skin. Returning the favor, I lifted a handful of dirt and poured it in a steady stream over the well-muscled planes of Ethan’s ass; he shivered as the feather-light touches of the dry crumbs whispered against the clenched swells.

  I writhed beneath him, naked and covered in mud. I was certain that I’d never felt more sexy, more sure of my own erotic appeal as my eyes caught flashes of my own pale flesh interspersed with the slick dirt. Unable to control myself, I reached up to bite at the side of his neck, hard. When he yelped and the fathomless depths of his incredibly blue eyes started to blur, he yanked my hips to the edge of the wooden box, seemingly unable to hold out any longer. Desperate for the feel of my flesh, like a wet fist tightly clenched, pulsating around him.

  It felt better than I’d ever imagined to have a man want me so much.

  Balancing my round, bare ass on the edge of the wood, Ethan settled himself on his knees just below, on the prickles of the dry grass that the box sat on. He lifted each of my legs in turn, settling them against his shoulders, leaving my slick center wide open, exposed and vulnerable.

  He groaned, a noise of sheer delight at the sight of my moist pink slit peeking out of the thatch of tight golden curls. As I shivered at the cool air that brushed against my exposed flesh, he lowered his mouth to taste.

  My fingers slid through the dirt, searching desperately for something, anything, to grab hold of, to steady myself. Instead, when he again drew the tight, hot bud of my clit into his mouth I found myself sobbing as the intense brightness of my climax had me seeing stars. When I would have screamed, unable to articulate my pleasure in any other way, Ethan drove into me without mercy, burying the thick length of his cock to the hilt in my welcome, waiting flesh.

  I cried out again; the invasion of my wet cleft so soon after the explosion that had had me trembling was more sensation than I could handle. But I found that my body was more than willing to adjust as he began to move, slowly at first, his cock exploring and rejoicing in the tightness of my slick cunt. Both of us were on the edge of losing control, and the pace upped inevitably. As our flesh slapped together, hard enough to sting, and I nipped at the bits of Ethan that I could reach, I felt the newly familiar trembling in my thighs that signaled another wave of sweet pleasure.

  The ocean-hued depths of Ethan’s eyes locked onto my own as his movements became frantic, hard and ruthless, driving the pleasure home. His gaze swallowed my own as my flesh enveloped his. His muscles contracted suddenly beneath my fingers and I felt the brutality of his intense, vicious orgasm as it pounded into me, thickening the scent of salt on the air. I came immediately after he had finished and stilled, sweat dripping down from his brow to splatter wetly on my breasts and belly. Rendered speechless by the orgasm’s intensity, I closed my eyes and let my body do what it would.

  As we lay still, weightless and yet heavy in the soft dirt, all was quiet, and. for the first time in a long while I felt at peace.

  When I woke it was a slow, groggy ascension through consciousness as thick as syrup. Wondering briefly if I’d perhaps been drugged without my knowledge, I shook my head from side to side cautiously in an effort to clear the last foggy webs that clung to my neural receptors. Deciding that I felt too good to have anything foreign in my system, I settled back on the sticky plastic and wallowed for a moment in the luxurious feelings sweeping over my senses.

  Whoa, hold up. Sticky plastic? Propping myself up on one elbow, I looked left, then right. Then down, to where six feet plus of naked, muddy male flesh glimmered in the first pale light of a new summer day. Honeyed flesh tangled with my own eggshell skin.

  It all came back in a rush and I found myself frozen in place, my brain trying desperately to assimilate the random thoughts that were screeching around my head at warp speed. My heart raced, and I fought the instant of panic that came with being pinned down by musky male.

  In a moment of clarity, I realized that it was Ethan. It was Ethan twined around me, Ethan who would remove his weight from my own in a heartbeat if it was what I wanted or needed.

  Ethan, whom I’d always trusted with almost everything. Ethan, with whom I’d now shared a part of my soul.

  I smiled to myself, a truly happy little curve of my lips, as I looked down at the delicious specimen of manhood that had been all mine last night. Who’d ever have thought that it would be my brother’s best friend who’d make my bells chime and my whistles sing?

  As I admired the way the caramel light of the early-morning star accentuated every detail on his body, from the curve of his shoulder blade to the dusky hairs that dusted his abdomen, I reflected that he was no longer just my little brother’s buddy. No, he was part mine too. Would he be forever?

  Who knew?

  But for right now, the part of himself that he’d offered to me had given me the missing part of myself as well.

  And I was content with that.

  If you liked Tie Me Up, look for these other books in the Erotic Me series:

  Take Me Down

  Lead Me On

  Let Me In

  Hungry for more? Spice Briefs to suit every taste are available now at www.spicebriefs.com, including these recent titles:

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  Eternal Seduction by Mandy M. Roth

  Another Chance by Portia Da Costa

  Take Me Down by Lauren Hawkeye

  A Paris Affair by Adelaide Cole

  Wanton by Crystal Jordan

  Exposed and Pleasured by Lisa Renee Jones

  The Queen’s Consort by Leia Rice

  The Earl Takes a Lover by Georgia E. Jones

  Bound and Pleasured by Lisa Renee Jones

  For even more sexy stories—and to submit your own work—please visit www.CarinaPress.com!

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8547-1

  Tie Me Up

  Copyright © 2011 by Lauren Hawkeye

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