Free Willing Victim by Cara McKenna

the floor, apparently thinking her having her knees and elbows savaged by the not-so-recently swept hardwood was too varsity for her first night.
    Flynn straightened up and the cold look on his face said the fantasy had begun. A chill trickled down Laurel’s spine as she stared into his narrowed eyes.
    “Sit on the bed,” he said.
    She hesitated a second and it was enough to earn herself some correction. Flynn took her by the shoulders and forced her back a couple steps, pushing her onto the edge of the mattress beside a pair of wrapped condoms, a bottle of lube and a roll of duct tape. The sensation of being physically controlled by someone she knew she couldn’t ever hope to fight off was both arousing and terrifying. This man could actually rape her, if he was so inclined—he was physically capable of it. She felt her throat constrict as if a fist had closed around it.
    “Michael.”
    His posture transformed in an instant. He sat down next to her on the bed, hands clasped between his knees, wary eyes on her face. “Too rough?”
    “I’m not sure. I think mostly I just wanted to test the safe word. I think I needed to know you’d stop, if I asked you to.”
    “Always.”
    Then Laurel did something that surprised even herself. She turned and reached out a hand, setting her palm on his jaw. She brought her face up and drew his down and kissed his mouth. A first-date good-night kiss, no tongue, just lips finding their way for a few moments. Flynn set a hand softly on her arm, taking all her cues. Laurel pulled away feeling safe, knowing she was calling the shots. Her relief morphed to curiosity as she stared at his naked chest and arms. Fuck, those arms.
    “I’m ready,” she said. “You can do whatever you were planning on.” She squared her shoulders and looked expectant, as if he’d just pushed her down onto the bed. He licked his lips and nodded, seeming satisfied that she was back on board. He stood and put his knees between hers, a hand coming down to hold the back of her head.
    “Take me out and get me hard.” Laurel’s new favorite order.
    She undid his belt and fly, let his jeans drop to the ground. Cupping his bulge, she rubbed her thumbs across his ridge, feeling him go stiff. She stroked her hand up and down his length as he grew, measuring and anticipating. A pang of sadness struck her as she realized that the first time he penetrated her they wouldn’t be face-to-face. She’d miss out on that cautious, awe-filled, one-time-only moment between new lovers with this man.
    Flynn eased his waistband over his straining cock and pushed his shorts down his thighs. His hand wrapped around hers as before, gripping to dictate her strokes.
    “Yeah, good.” The weight returned to his voice. “Make it nice and big.” He wound her long hair around his other hand, rough and possessive.
    “What are you going to do?” she asked, eyes on his swollen head above their two fists.
    “Depends on if you cooperate or not. You gonna get on your hands and knees for me, girl?”
    She glanced at the duct tape then nodded.
    He let her hand go after a couple more strokes and she got to the ground, all fours on the towel, facing the mirror. Flynn kicked his pants and shorts away and grabbed the tape, kneeling behind her.
    “Sit up,” he said.
    She leaned back on her haunches. She heard the rip of tape being yanked and detached, glanced over her shoulder to watch him fold the three-foot length in half the long way, closing the sticky side in on itself. He reached around her waist to press her wrists together, wrapping them with the tape, tucking the ends beneath her thumbs so the only things keeping her bound were her own fists. Staring down at her hands, Laurel thought it looked pretty damn convincing.
    “Back on all fours,” he said.
    She settled on her knees and elbows, keeping the bindings tight. Strong hands yanked her underwear down her thighs and out from under her knees. A hungry noise rattled out of