Passion(White Collared Part 4)(17)
She heard doors opening and closing and Jaxon moving about the house. Still she didn’t break position. He’d given her an order and she’d follow it to the letter, even if it was hours before he came for her.
After a half hour or so, the rhythm of her breathing lulled her into a trancelike state where she no longer felt the cramps of her thighs or the uncomfortable stretch of her spine. Numbness descended and she began to drift.
“Stand up, Katerina.”
Jax’s voice invaded her solitary bubble, shocking her back into consciousness. She hadn’t heard him come into the room. How long had she been kneeling?
Her legs groaned in protest as she pushed back and got to her feet. She wobbled a little but caught herself before she fell.
A slight smirk tugged at Jax’s lips before it disappeared, leaving behind a mask of indifference. “Follow behind me with your head down and your hands clasped behind your back.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor and laced her hands as he’d demanded. Then she stayed a couple steps behind him as he led them to the open playroom.
Although she kept her chin toward her chest, she still managed to take in the ambience of the room. He’d lit dozens of candles and placed them along the far wall, throwing light onto the smooth wood of the St. Andrew’s cross, which gleamed and taunted her. A black leather duffel bag sat beside it.
Today, the playroom looked more like a dungeon. Had he done that on purpose to put her in the right frame of mind?
She laughed inside, careful not to let her amusement show. Of course he’d done it on purpose. Jax didn’t do anything without a reason. That’s why she needed to take it seriously and trust him. After all, that’s what this was about—trust.
Without lifting her head, she caught his appreciative gaze soaking in her naked body. Pride warmed her, a fizzy buoyancy unfurling in her chest.
He raised her chin with a finger and his gaze dropped to her neck. “You didn’t take off the collar.”
She didn’t speak, uncertain whether he wanted a response. If he had, she’d tell him the truth.
It wasn’t hers to take off.
He brushed over the curves of her shoulders and swept across her collarbone, sparking a flame low in her belly. He moved in closer, pressing his covered erection against her. His eyes, always dark, glimmered with golden flecks.
Her fingers itched to remove his shirt and glide over the chiseled muscles of his chest. To dip below the waistband of his pants and experience the flex of his ass as he worked his cock inside of her.
Her breathing grew rapid from arousal and her nipples puckered beneath his gaze. Was this her punishment? Drive her insane with want only to deny her satisfaction? If so, it was working beautifully.
His lips curled into a small grin and his eyebrows rose as if he had a secret. “Go to the cross with your back to me.”
With her pulse hammering hard, she traversed the room to the X-frame and stood spread eagle, waiting for further instruction. The wood was cool on her flushed skin.
Jax came up behind her, his pine scent reaching her nose only seconds before his heat radiated onto her skin like the early morning sun. She closed her eyes and drew on her other senses, glorying in the sound of his rapid breathing. Was it from arousal or was there another reason for it?
He pressed her into the frame with his body and wrapped something around her wrist. Her eyes flew open to see him bind her with a black fabric Velcro restraint. She let out a shuddering breath and relaxed.
Trust.
He fastened her other wrist and then her ankles. Her body trembled and goose bumps ran up and down her arms. Endless possibilities of what he’d do to her circled through her mind.
She couldn’t wait.
Chapter Seven
JAX HADN’T TOUCHED her, and yet her pussy quivered as if he had. To her, the mere act of being cuffed to the St. Andrew’s cross symbolized her ultimate surrender. Perhaps it came from her Catholic upbringing and knowing the story of St. Andrew. Or maybe it was because it was just so damned erotic to be bound and at her lover’s mercy on a cross created by his hands.
“What’s your safe word?” Jax asked, his breath warm on her ear.
She inhaled a quick breath, a bit dizzy from her arousal. “Red and gunshot, Jax.”
“I trust you to say it if you need to. That’s why we have them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Jax.”
“From this point on, I don’t want you to speak unless it’s your safe word. You can, however, feel free to make noises and cry out. Tears are also acceptable.” He dragged his hand down her spine. “I’m going to start with the single-tail.”
All the air rushed from her lungs.
The whip was difficult to master, and Jax never mentioned he could also yield it. Then again, she’d never asked.