this. Helpless wasn’t a role he’d ever played and he didn’t intend to start now.
She turned to look at him and her face halted his next words. So much was written in her eyes—need, excitement, fear, challenge. She expected him to balk, expected him to refuse her.
“Chickening out, Donovan?”
He was reminded of his fantasy. She’d given him everything, held back nothing. Didn’t he owe her the same satisfaction? They’d started this as a way of one-upping each other. It was supposed to be a game. Somewhere along the line, the rules had changed. It no longer felt like they were taking so much as giving.
His hands moved to his shirt, unfastening the buttons. She paused, watching him, waiting for him to say more. Slowly, methodically, he shed his shirt, shoes, socks and pants—all as she observed silently. When he was completely naked, he turned his hands, palms toward her as if to say, I’m yours. Take me.
She smiled at his gesture, nodded once, and for a moment, he thought he saw the sheen of a tear in her eye. She carried the manacles over and stood in front of him.
“Do you need me to spell out what I’m going to do?”
He shook his head. “Just do it.” The words were ripped from his soul. With those three words, he was giving her his trust, something he’d never surrendered easily. And yet, with her, it seemed a very simple thing to offer.
She hooked the cuff on his right wrist, raising his arm above his head. Efficiently, she lightly tossed the chain over the chin up bar, raised his other arm and hooked the second cuff. Her heels added at least three inches to her height, making it easier for her to bind him. The top of her head came to the tip of his nose and he was overcome with the urge to bend forward and capture her elusive lips.
As if reading his thoughts, she took a step back. His arms were loosely chained above his head, his elbows slightly bent. He resisted the urge to test their strength, to test the bar. A small part of him wanted to use brute force to pull free from her bondage, but he was able to push it aside. Today was about her. Her fantasy. Her needs.
She ran her hand along his chest, the sudden touch surprising him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as she used her nail to tease his nipple. Bending forward, she nipped at the small distended bit of flesh with her teeth. He clenched his jaw as she increased the pressure of the bite. She continued until a hiss escaped his lips. She backed away then, studied his face and then soothed the pain with soft, wet kisses and gentle brushes of her tongue. Once she’d eased the hurt, she moved over and inflicted the same pleasurable pain to his other nipple. Over and over, she tormented him with sharp bites, sweet kisses.
He was struggling to get air into his lungs and his cock was full to bursting. Jesus. She hadn’t even touched it yet.
Finally, she pulled away. He watched her through slitted eyelids, trying to read her face, determine her next move. It was impossible. She was a master at this game, at control. It was like looking in a mirror.
She walked back to her desk and picked up the riding crop. He clenched his teeth. This was definitely going to be a new experience. For him and for his secretary. He glanced uneasily at the door. What the hell would Jessica think when she heard the crack of a whip? Would she try to come in?
“Jess is about to get an education. Wouldn’t you say so?”
He cleared his throat, wondering when it had gotten so thick. “Maybe you should tell her to go to lunch.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe I should invite her in. I bet she’d love to put a few lashes against your back.”
He shook his head. “The only hands I want on me right now are yours.”
She seemed to digest that information, then—typical woman—she latched on to the wrong words. “Right now?”
“Frankie.” He gestured at the crop in her hands with a nod of his head. “Get