Bound to Please(51)

If she were bound before him, she would see the way the muscles in his shoulders moved as he slowly brought his fist down to the base of his erection. She would see the way his hips tilted forward as he stroked himself, up and down. She would see him tugging at his left nipple piercing until he grimaced. Helpless, she would watch as he masturbated before her. Her eyes, big, dark, and wanting.

His rhythm became faster. His breath hitched and he groaned, imagined her touching the vibrator to herself, the way she’d buck against the little device. He bent his knees slightly, his legs going tense as he stroked himself faster and harder. In the mirror he watched his hand’s even rhythm.

He could recall precisely what it felt like to be inside Ruby, fucking her. So warm… and tight. He could almost feel the inside of her clenching around him as she climaxed. He remembered the way her inner walls had spasmed around his cock. He jerked one last time against his hand, grunting as everything in him tensed in one all-consuming moment, frozen. He felt his own hot cum hit him in the chest when he exploded.

Panting, he bent over and rested his elbows on the bathroom counter. When he caught his breath he looked up at his reflection above the sink and shook his head. Idiot. He’d hoped masturbating would clear his mind and release him a little from the hold Ruby had over him. But his forehead still looked creased and tense.

In the sink, soap bubbles popped softly. The light perfume managed to accost his senses, making his balls go tight once more.

Masturbating hadn’t helped. He wanted her now, more than ever.





Chapter

Fifteen

This is nice.” Yvette settled into the plush seat of the private jet and sipped her orange juice. “It almost makes it worth getting up at the ass crack of dawn to get back to S.F.”

Next to her, Jake gazed around the elegant beige interior. “I guess we’re good enough for a private jet, just not good enough to choose the time we fly. Whatever. It’s better than coach.”

The sun hadn’t yet risen, and Mark flipped on the overhead light in order to see the notebook he was scribbling in. So close. He had the lyrics, but the melody was evading him, just out of reach. He wanted to nail it, and he wanted to do it now. For some reason it seemed important that this song make it onto this record.

“What are you working on, pet?” Yvette asked. “You’ve been totally distracted all morning.”

He glanced across the aisle. “Just a new song.”

“Give us a taste, brother,” Jake said, picking up his ever-present drumsticks. “Give me a beat.”

“Nah, it’s not finished yet.”

“Come on, Mark.” Yvette tapped his knee with the tip of her pointy black boot. “Maybe we can help.”

“Seriously, I just want to work it out first.” Keeping his head down, hoping they’d go away, he didn’t notice Yvette leaning across the aisle.

“Does that say ‘Ruby’?”

“Fuck. Can’t you just let me finish this?”

Jake gave a low whistle. “Dude. Have you ever written a love song before? I don’t think so.”

“No shit. He’s too busy writing about going insane and things melting and other heavy shit.” Yvette sipped the orange juice, and Mark was starting to wonder if the drink was actually a mimosa.

He turned back to his notebook. “It’s not a love song, not really.”

“If it’s about a woman, it’s gotta be,” Jake said.

“All I know is that this is the first time I’ve seen you so taken with a lass. Other than me, of course.” Her voice was casual, but Mark heard the bite behind it.

He was too tired to argue. “I admit it. I like her. But she’s made it obvious it’s a temporary thing, which is cool with me.”

“I’m sure it is.” Yvette leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “Why do you think our Ruby is so intent on keeping things casual?”

Mark glanced up and when he spoke, his voice sounded tense. “I’m not exactly relationship material. She doesn’t want to get hurt. The usual.”

“Maybe, but it’s not usually the girl making that decision.” Yvette frowned and stared silently at him, the deep whir of the jet’s engines humming through the cabin. Then she leaned back, sipped her drink. “And how does our stallion feel about this filly bucking him out of the corral?”

He tapped his pencil on the notebook. “We leave in what? Two weeks? I’ll just see how it plays out, I guess. I mean, she’s just a girl.” He tried to keep his voice casual, but there was an ache in his heart even he couldn’t ignore.

“Just a girl,” she repeated.