“Shhh.” He rocked in her, brushing back her hair. His cock, the ropes, all of it held her captured. “I’ve got you, little Prosperity,” he whispered against her ear. “I’ve got you tied down tight.”
He pushed into her again, lifting her hips from the bed. Her whole body tensed, hovered on the edge. Her mind turned off, and she felt only him, only fullness and sensation. Then she felt something inside her let go. She gasped from the force of the orgasm that seized her, pulling at the bonds that held her down. She bucked against Jackson, a wail bursting from her throat as the sensation peaked. Wave after wave of blissful, pleasurable ripples ran from her center to her trembling arms and her trapped legs.
“Jackson!” she cried. “Oh, Jackson. Oh God—”
He squeezed her, his head buried in her neck. His teeth opened against her skin and closed in a bite. She was still shuddering with aftershocks of pleasure as he groaned against her temple and found his own release.
Jackson lay next to her, gasping. So much for her not being very good at sex. He’d had to hold her down so she didn’t injure them both, even restrained as she was. She’d been so small and tight, every stroke took him to heaven. He’d felt her in every single nerve, and by the time he’d come, he was wild for her like an animal. He was pretty sure he’d bitten into her in the throes of his orgasm.
He looked over at her, exhausted beside him. Yes, a few teeth marks at the base of her neck, but no blood. There might be a light bruise. He usually had better control. He leaned down and traced the marked skin with the tip of his tongue. Her eyes fluttered, then closed again. Her frantic struggling of the moment before seemed to have given way to catatonia. He ran a light hand up her smooth black stockings.
“Okay?”
Her eyes opened and fixed on him. They were wet, intense.
“I… Wow… That was…”
“I know.” He shifted to discard the condom, then turned back and began to stroke her with a light, feathery touch. He stroked over silk thighs, feminine hips, over her flat tummy that still rose and fell in long, irregular breaths. He considered whether or not to untie her. He would be hard again in five minutes, but Prosper looked spent. In fact, she appeared to be falling asleep.
“Hey.” He pinched her cheek and leaned over to kiss her, thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth, enjoying her sweet, sleepy reactions. “Wake up, girl. I need you again.”
“No. Too tired.”
“I think it wouldn’t be very difficult for me to turn that no to a yes.” He tweaked a nipple and laughed at its immediate response. “Not with you, anyway.”
Her eyes opened again. She smiled, a tired smile, and laughed. A giddy laugh. They laughed together, then sobered.
“That was just… wow,” she said. “I don’t really have the words.”
“I know. It was nice. You seemed to really enjoy it. I certainly did.” He drank in her satisfied smile and then fingered the ropes around her slender wrists. His.
When he let her go, when he untied her and ushered her out of his apartment, she wouldn’t be his anymore. Well, it had to be that way. But she would be his for a while, until he had to leave New York. They’d talk about that later.
For now, before he released her, he needed her again.
Chapter Eight
Prosper was supposed to be packing, but it was difficult to concentrate, especially with Glenna chattering in her ear.
“Tell me more about this date last night! It must have been something.”
Prosper smiled. “It was great. He’s really incredible.”
“So who is this guy? Why don’t you bring him along next time we all meet up for dinner?”
“I don’t know. It’s not really going anywhere.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s um… mostly physical.”
“Mmm,” said Glenna with a smirk. “It’s like that, is it? Just using him? Hooking up? I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Prosper didn’t think she had it in her either, but she’d actually set up a schedule to see Jackson on a regular basis for sex. Not just sex but all the other thrilling things. The yes, Sirs and no, Sirs, the rules and requirements. The punishments. It was all sex to her. She felt it all in the same hot, wet place.
Jackson had tied her to his bed and turned her entire world upside down. By the time he’d untied her, he’d had to pretty much dress her spent body and carry her downstairs to the cab he’d called. She would have given her entire fortune—which was not very much, admittedly—just to be allowed to sleep beside him all night, but no. Before he closed the door to the cab, he’d kissed her and said in her ear, “Friday. Same time. And absolutely no touching what’s mine.”
It had been easy last night, not touching, as she’d fallen, half-asleep already, into bed. But she woke up with quite the arousing collection of memories. She’d barely functioned all day. She’d flubbed and tripped so badly through rehearsals that Blake had snapped at her to concentrate. Jackson, however, was uncharacteristically soft on her, accepting her errors with a secret smirk on his face. Now she needed to pull herself together enough to pack up her things to move into her new apartment tomorrow, a tiny sublet a couple of blocks away.
“I’m so sorry you have to go,” said Glenna, tucking some shoes and scarves into the box she packed. “I hope your new apartment works out.”
“I don’t know. It’s not exactly a showplace, but it’ll do. Still, I can’t believe I took a second job to afford an apartment that’s barely large enough to Hula-hoop in.”
Glenna laughed. “Do you Hula-hoop often? But I know what you’re saying. Sometimes I think it would be better to pack up and just move home.”
“Yeah, I think that too sometimes. But I don’t even have that option, not really.” Prosper wasn’t on good terms with her mother or stepfather, and they were really the only family she had. Her mother’s family, of course, didn’t even acknowledge that she existed. Her stepfather’s family, while not under religious obligation to shun her, still felt pretty much the same.
She avoided Glenna’s questioning gaze, turning away to search for the packing tape. The new apartment was a third-floor walk-up. She dreaded the idea of lugging her boxes up all those stairs even though she didn’t have much. She considered calling Jackson, asking for help. But no, that was something you did when someone was your boyfriend, wasn’t it? Or your friend? As much as she hated to admit it to herself, Jackson was neither. He was something very provocative, but a friend… no.
Friday night she arrived at Jackson’s place still sore and achy. She’d been stiff in rehearsals, but she’d explained the reason why, and he had gone easy on her, concentrating on the dancing princesses and their synchronization issues. Somehow she doubted he’d be as easygoing on her now. In fact, he led her straight to the bedroom.
“Undress and kneel,” he ordered, pointing to a spot in the middle of the floor. “Take off everything. I want you naked as the day you were born.”
She undressed and placed her clothes in a neat pile next to the door, then dropped to her knees where he’d pointed and sat back on her heels. She didn’t know what was worse, the unaccustomed ache in her thighs or the nakedness. Not that a sheer bra or panties offered much more than a psychological feeling of being clothed.
He undressed too, then crossed to her and grabbed a handful of hair—not hard, but hard enough—and tugged her upward. “Kneel up. Legs slightly parted. Back straight. How’s the new apartment?”
“The new apartment… It’s okay, Sir.” She tried to kneel straight, ignoring the protest of her thighs.