Bound (Captured by the Billionaire #4)(3)
Author: Julia Sykes

After climbing two flights of stairs, Jake paused in front of a closed door crafted of darkly polished wood.  “I have something I want to show you, Mallory.  Something that I think you’ll like, if you give it a chance,” he said in a low, gravelly tone.

“What is it?”  She asked suspiciously, the beginnings of nervousness stirring in her belly.

“I take it that means you want me to show you?”  He asked, grinning.

She rolled her eyes at him.  “Yes, I believe that was implied by my question.”

He suddenly gripped her hair at the nape of her neck, jerking her head back roughly so that she was forced to look up into his eyes.  “What have I told you about rolling your eyes at me, sub?”  His voice was dangerous, his eyes that deep blue that told her his Dominant side was taking over.

“Sorry,” she said, dropping her eyes.

He tugged on her hair harder, sending tingles down her spine as he brought her wide-eyed gaze back to his hard one.  “How are you to address me, sub?”

“Sorry, Sir,” she whispered, overwhelmed by his dominant aura.

He smiled softly, running the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, applying pressure.  She opened for him, and he slid it inside her mouth.  She sucked on it gently, swirling her tongue around it, grazing it with her teeth.  “Good girl,” he murmured, his pleasure at her response obvious.  Her pu**y clenched at the diminutive phrase.

After a moment, he pulled his hand away and released his grip on her hair, leaving her wanting.  Then he was opening the door, leading her by the hand into the dim room.  For a moment, she could see nothing, but then Jake flipped a switch, flooding the room with a reddish light.  Mallory couldn’t help but gasp.

Grey stone walls matched the slate tiled floor, giving the room a sense of rough severity.  Strangely-shaped furniture was crafted of black-painted metal topped with red leather.  There was a huge, four-poster king-size bed with red velvet drapes pushed up along one wall and a large, black-painted wooden X in the corner beside it.  Mallory could hardly believe what she was seeing; she was standing in a dungeon.

Who has one of these in their house?  She wondered, her feeling of bemusement more comfortable to contemplate than her nervousness.  Jake Cleary, Dominant sexy billionaire.  Of course he has one.  How silly of her to even be remotely surprised.

Jake took her gently by the shoulders, looking down at her.  There was a furrow of concern in his brow, his eyes apprehensive.  “Are you alright, Mallory?”  He asked.  “I know this is probably all a bit overwhelming.”

“Just a bit,” she said faintly.  She didn’t even know what most of the furniture in the room was meant to be used for, but she could figure out the basics based on the restraints on each piece.  Hell, even the bed had leather cuffs chained to the posts.

Jake tenderly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.  “I’d like to play with you, Mallory.  If you’re willing.”  His eyes were anxious, belying his otherwise cool demeanor; her answer was clearly of the upmost importance to him.

She considered for a moment.  Yes, the room was scary, but it was nothing compared to her fear of the crowds at the fetish ball in Venice.  And she couldn’t deny that the fear of the unknown was… enticing, erotic.  She shot a nervous look around the room one more time.  Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, she gathered up her courage.

“Yes, Jake,” she said finally.  “I’m willing.”

He gave a low, satisfied growl and instantly crushed his lips to hers, kissing her in a frenzy, as though she were a drug that he couldn’t help but consume.  Never taking his mouth from hers, he pushed her backwards until her back hit the hard stone wall.  The roughness of it grazed her skin lightly, bringing all of her nerve endings to life.  Jake shoved her dress up roughly, pulling it over her head.  She was left in nothing but her skimpy panties and her low heels, which she quickly kicked off.

There was something distinctly arousing about being na**d while Jake was fully clothed in his sharply cut suit.  The imbalance of his power and her vulnerability sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine.

Jake’s hand was between her thighs, cupping her sex roughly, possessively.  When he pulled back from her lips he was breathing hard, his eyes boring into hers.

“Tell me you need me, Mallory,” he demanded, gripping her pu**y more tightly.

But his expression betrayed his anxiousness for her answer.  She thought about Venice, how he had demanded her trust but hadn’t trusted her in return.

“I need to hear you say it first,” she breathed.  She met his eyes warily, worried that she had treaded into territory that he wasn’t ready for.

His eyes widened, surprised at her ultimatum.  He clearly wasn’t used to a submissive challenging him.  But finally, looking more apprehensive than ever, he spoke: “I need you, Mallory.”  His voice was rough, strained.

She smiled up at him, relieved to hear the words.  “I need you too, Sir,” she admitted.

He looked stunned. He traced his thumb gently over her cheekbone, staring at her in wonder, as though he could hardly believe she was real.

“I want to explore your pain tolerance today, Mallory,” he said softly, as though he didn’t want to spook her.  “Are you alright with that?”

Mallory remembered the spanking that Jake had given her in their hotel room in Venice, her first taste of BDSM.  She licked her lips involuntarily and nodded.

Jake gave her a slightly cold, hard smile, the green fading from his eyes, giving way to dark, sapphire blue.  The change brought out a visceral reaction in her.  But his hands were gentle as they closed around her wrists, leading her to the center of the room until they were standing beside one of the strange pieces of furniture.

“This,” Jake explained in a detached voice, “is a spanking bench.”  He suddenly grabbed her waist and positioned her where he wanted her, lifting her up until her knees rested on two padded extensions jutting out a few feet below the larger rectangular surface.  He abruptly shoved her back between her shoulder blades, knocking her forward so that she fell onto it, the wind momentarily knocked out of her.  Taking advantage of her moment of disorientation, he grabbed her wrist and pulled it in front of her, swiftly buckling a soft leather restraint around it.