Not Safe for Work(29)

“You too.”

I moved my hand up into his hair and claimed another kiss, sliding my tongue between his willing lips as everything about him—his presence, his body heat, his hands on my waist—turned my knees to water. I was still in control, but damn, kissing him was a good way to warm up to the idea of losing control.

But that wasn’t why he was here, and it wasn’t why we were doing this. I was a Dom, for God’s sake, and I would stay in control.

I broke the kiss and forced myself not to show that I was out of breath. “We should go downstairs and get started. Or else I’m going to f*ck you right here in this foyer instead of tying you up downstairs.”

“Lead the way,” he said quietly, breathing hard.

I did, taking him down into the basement.

At the dungeon door, he paused. “Am I… Is this where you want me to undress?”

“Did I tell you to undress?”

“N-no.” He gulped. “Just…uh…”

“I’ll tell you when it’s time.” I pushed open the door and waved him in.

“Sorry,” he murmured, and stepped into the room.

In the middle of the floor, I halted, and nodded downward. Immediately, and with only the slightest wince, he went to his knees.

“Good.” I stroked his cheek. “You’re ready for this, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Ready to play around with a few toys and some bondage?”

He swept his tongue across his lips. “Absolutely.”

That kind of enthusiasm—as if he were this close to trembling with excitement—turned me on like nothing else.

“Before we go too far,” I went on, “tell me the safe word.”

“Red.”

“Good,” I whispered. “Stand up.”

His eyes never leaving mine, he rose, and once he was on his feet, I slid my arm around his waist and kissed him. He didn’t put his arms around me, but he returned my kiss. No, that wasn’t right. He welcomed my kiss, his mouth surrendering to the gentle demands of my own. Even his kiss was made of submission. My God. I couldn’t believe this man was mine for tonight.

And if we kept kissing like this, I’d wind up f*cking him right here in the middle of the floor again. Which was hot. Ridiculously hot. But I had other plans for him tonight.

I pried myself off him and forced my voice to stay even despite the fact that I was out of breath. “This way.”

I led him across the room to the bed. His eyes darted toward the cuffs, but then went right to the box.

I pulled it to the edge of the mattress, unsnapped the latches and lifted the lid. “Pick your poison.”

He gazed into the box, and his eyebrows climbed.

I was a big fan of Wartenberg wheels and had several variations of them laid out on the gold satin liner. They were all roughly the same—a pencil-sized handle with a spiny wheel attached to one end—but some were sharper than others, and some had multiple wheels while others only had one.

“You ever experienced one of these?”

Eyes still fixed on the box, he shook his head.

I pulled one of the single wheels free and held out my other hand. “Give me your arm.”

He extended his arm. I grasped his wrist and turned it so his forearm was up. Gently, I touched the wheel to his skin, gave him a couple of seconds to get used to the idea and then rolled it across his forearm.

“Hmm.” He curled and straightened his fingers, the muscles rippling beneath the skin. “Doesn’t seem too bad.”

“Well. Not on your arm.”

Rick blinked. “Where else exactly—” His eyes darted to the wheel in my hand. Then to me.

I grinned. “You game?”

He shot the wheel another wary glance. “I’m…yeah. Yeah, I’m game.”

“I thought so.” I laid the wheel back in the box. “Which one do you want me to use?”

He looked them over again. Eventually, he selected another single wheel, this one with slightly duller spikes than the one I’d used on him. “How about this one?”

“All right.” I took it from him and slid it into my back pocket. Then I cleared the cuffs and box from the bed. “Now you’re going to strip, and then I want you to lie down on your back.”

Without hesitation, he peeled off his shirt. I had everything set up and ready to go, so I stood back and watched, enjoying every second of this man getting naked against the backdrop of my home dungeon. I almost wished those painted-on windows were real, if only so someone might walk past and see Rick Pierce stepping out of those snug jeans or sliding his boxers over his hips.

He folded his clothes and stacked them neatly on the floor by the footboard. Fully naked, he faced me, but then jumped as if he’d suddenly remember there was one more step he hadn’t yet completed. He lay back on the bed as ordered and gazed up at me.

From my other pocket, I withdrew a black satin blindfold and handed it to him. “Put this on.”

He gave it an uncertain glance, but then slid it down over his eyes.

“I’m going to cuff your wrists and ankles,” I said. “Safe word again?”

“Red.”

“Good.” I patted his thigh, and he tensed, sucking in a sharp breath. “You all right?”