“Karla, it looks great!” Angelina watched as her new student pulled the thermometer from the Florentine roast pork and put the pan back into the stainless-steel gas range. “Won’t be long now.”
While Karla wiped down the jade-green granite countertop, Angelina surveyed Marc’s kitchen. State of the art didn’t begin to describe this place. The expensive countertop material covered a number of surfaces around the room—from the appliance island to under the cabinets. What it would be like to work in a kitchen like this every day, rather than the tiny one she used now.
The island contained the gas stove and a wide prep space. On the back side was a second tier of granite countertop and three bar stools. What a great place to cook and entertain at the same time. The appliances all were stainless steel and professional grade. What a crime this phenomenal room hardly looked as if it had been touched.
“Adam’s not going to believe how much I’ve improved with just one lesson.” Karla’s blue eyes sparkled. The change in her just since she’d first met her a month ago, when she was still reeling from the recent death of her brother, was quite noticeable.
“You’re a fast learner. We should go shopping for some cookbooks that will give you lots of ideas after I go back home.”
Karla reached out to squeeze Angelina’s hand. “I’m going to miss having you around. It gets kind of lonely at Adam’s place when the club isn’t open. Adam…kinda sticks to himself most of the time.” She glanced away and Angelina could see how much that disappointed her. “I know he’s just busy managing the club. Damián and…his other partner aren’t around as much to help as they used to be, from what I gather.”
“Let’s face it, guys just don’t have a clue how social we women are.”
Angelina looked at the clock—almost five. Still plenty of time to work on the salad, with two pair of hands. Angelina went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine, along with the bowls of vegetables they had washed earlier.
“Might as well relax with a glass while we work on the salad.” She found the wineglasses and poured them each a generous amount before they sat down on the bar seats with the tomatoes, carrots, cauliflower, lettuce, spinach, and other items they’d purchased at the market this morning.
Karla’s interest in Adam certainly hadn’t waned. Maybe Angelina could orchestrate something to get them together.
“Are you still curious about BDSM, Karla?”
The woman’s alabaster skin flushed a pretty pink. Karla looked over at her with a confused expression on her face and reached for the carrots and a paring knife. “The jury’s still out on that one. So, you were pretty quiet last night after you came upstairs.”
Angelina felt a blush of her own start in her neck and crawl up over her cheeks. “Yeah, it wound up being later than I expected. I fell asleep in his lap. Actually, I think maybe we both fell asleep.” Waking up to find his arms still wrapped around her, and the soft snore coming from him, she’d felt disoriented at first. When she raised up off his chest, he awoke and was at full alert with a speed she’d never witnessed before. Must be his military training. One thing led to another and…
“If you don’t mind me asking, did it hurt much?”
For a moment, Angelina wasn’t sure what she was referring to. The things she remembered best about last night were being strapped to the post and flogged in such a sensual way. The mind-blowing orgasms he’d given her while draped over the armrest. And the ones he’d given her while stretched out on the loveseat.
“You mean the punishment?”
“Any of it. Everything about it looks so painful.”
How could she explain it to a novice? This wasn’t her area of expertise, for certain. She’d heard BDSM described with the expression “hurts so good,” but that just didn’t give her a clue until she’d met Marc.
“Karla, I think it’s something you have to experience yourself. Yeah, some of it starts out painful, but then, something clicks in your brain and all of a sudden, you’re hypersensitive and so…horny, you can’t stand not being touched or spanked or flogged or whatever he wants to do to you.” Heat pooled in her lower abdomen. “Have you ever fantasized about anything you’ve seen at the club or read about?”
Her cheeks grew redder before she grinned and replied. “Ropes. Being tied. Not to something. Just tied. Adam did a demonstration once with Grant.” A pained expression crossed her face at the mention of whoever Grant was, but the sparkle returned quickly. Obviously, she was thinking about whatever Adam had done to the sub. “My stomach just went ka-thunk. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Almost like art. The knots. The way he wrapped her breasts, restrained her arms behind her. Oh, my!” Karla released a nervous laugh and reached for her wineglass and took a large swallow. After taking a deep breath, she smiled at Angelina and shrugged, as if embarrassed about what she’d shared.
“No, Karla, don’t be ashamed of it. That’s it exactly. I think for me, too, it’s more about giving up control than it is about pain. Being restrained. Having a Dom read your body’s responses like a book and know just what you need. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better, but I’ve certainly changed my mind about it in the last few days. I am definitely submissive.”
“Ah, music to my ears, cara.”
Angelina’s heart thudded against her chest and she looked up to see Marc standing in the doorway smiling at her with more than a bit of arrogance. The man needed a bell around his neck so he couldn’t keep sneaking up on her like that. She blushed, even though Marc already knew exactly what she was. Somehow admitting it aloud to him made it more real.
Made her more vulnerable to him. This man could hurt her, because he wasn’t one to commit to anything more than the present. Wait! I don’t want anything more than that either. So, in that way, we’re perfect for each other. She smiled.
Marc smiled, too, as if he’d just read her mind. “Something smells wonderful.”
She dragged her attention back to the kitchen. “Karla’s a wonderful cook.”
“Angelina’s an awesome chef and teacher.”
“And, Marc, if the offer to put me into culinary bondage is still open, I’ll be your slave for life. Just chain me to your oven anytime.”
Marc grew tense and she realized how he might have taken her words as asking for more from him. “I didn’t mean…”
“Where’s Adam?”
“Right behind you.” Adam walked under the brick archway and into the kitchen.
Angelina watched Marc visibly relax. Oh, maybe she’d misread his change of mood. Marc probably had asked Adam to be her body guard, which would explain why they hadn’t been able to shake him all day. Clearly, Marc hadn’t forgotten about Allen. Well, he needed to, because she would be going back home, alone, on Saturday night—or Sunday morning at the latest. She could take care of herself.
She didn’t want to think about why the thought of leaving Denver bothered her. And then she tamped down those thoughts with an idea that might help her new friend with her own relationship. Angelina turned to Karla and apologized silently for not clearing this with her ahead of time, but her grandmother had always told her to strike while the iron was hot. Okay, she didn’t want to think about hot steel in connection with BDSM, but…
Angelina turned back to Marc and Adam. “Karla and I were just discussing how much we’d like a demonstration after dinner of the finer points of restraining someone with ropes. Would either of you happen to have any rope—and expertise in that area?”
Marc smiled. Adam growled. And Karla reached for her wineglass again and drained it.
* * *
Allen tailed Denton from his townhouse. Angelina wasn’t with him. Maybe she was with the other one—the Italian. He hoped Denton would lead him to her soon, because he’d spent the day driving in circles trying to catch a glimpse of her at the home of one of these two men.
As they entered the ritzy neighborhood of McMansions, Allen’s anger grew. When he’d seen where D’Alessio lived this morning—a fucking mansion surrounded by towering spruce and fir trees, totally secluded—he’d figured out what she saw in that one, at least. A dollar sign. The man was born to money, according to the research Allen had done. He hadn’t had to work hard every day of his life, unlike Allen who had to carve out a niche, building a business from the ground up.
All women cared about was landing a rich man so they wouldn’t have to work or support themselves. Well, Allen might not be as rich as this guy, but he could offer Angie a damned comfortable life. His business was growing, too. Of course, it would be good if he were back home overseeing it now, rather than having to chase her down all over Denver to get her to realize he was the perfect man for her. The perfect Dom.
When Denton pulled into the familiar driveway, Allen noticed a Harley and a Ford pick-up truck in front of the garage that hadn’t been there this morning. Was there some kind of party tonight? He could just imagine Angie servicing all the men at a private kink party. She might have played innocent with him, but he knew she liked it rough.
Soon, very soon, he would give her just what she wanted.
* * *
Marc had avoided eye contact with Angelina throughout dinner. He’d been excited to hear she wanted to try rope bondage tonight, but her mention of being his slave, even the joking way she’d said it, worried him.
He wouldn’t be trapped into a relationship he didn’t want. If she wasn’t content with a casual Dom/sub relationship, then he needed to make tracks and soon. Maybe he could steer her in the direction of Luke as the evening progressed. Marc had no interest in the baggage that came with Italian women, always wanting drama, babies, commitment.
Who’d said anything about babies?
Marc could feel the noose tightening around his neck. But her next words opened the door for his escape.
“So, which of you gentlemen would let me practice rope tricks on you?”
Rope tricks? Obviously, this was some kind of game to her. She’d never been restrained with Shibari, the Japanese martial arts form of rope bondage took the skill to the level of art. But none of the men at the table seemed anxious to take her up on the idea. Big surprise there. Then she homed in on Luke.
“How about you, Luke? Being from Texas, you must have been around a lot of rope.” She winked at him.
“Well, like the other men here, I’ve usually been the one doing the tying, not being tied, Angel.” To say Marc was surprised by his friend’s words would be an understatement. “Maggie, my wife, and I did enjoy playing with ropes. But she did do the tying a time or two. I’d be honored to let you practice on me.”
Shit. The man had been holding out on him. Maybe this was what he’d needed to get Luke and Angelina together. So, then why did the thought of throwing her at his friend bug the hell out of him? When he’d thought them incompatible, he hadn’t had a problem with it. Now that there might actually be something that could bind them together, so to speak, he was less interested in pushing her in that direction.
But he was getting too damned attached to her. Too comfortable. Falling asleep with her in the club last night surprised the hell out of him. He’d never trusted a woman enough to allow himself to be that vulnerable.
Marc glanced over at Angelina and decided to strike while the iron was hot, a favorite expression of his grandfather’s. “Great. So, Adam and I can demonstrate on Luke and Karla.” Already knowing the answer, because Adam had spent many hours showing him the ropes, so to speak, Marc still had to play ignorant. “Damián, are you any good with ropes?”
He grinned at Marc, but played along. “Actually, yes. But I have to head to the shop. Still trying to catch up after taking time off to be at my niece’s sixteenth birthday party in California last week.” He’d grown up in a town—something or other Gardens—between San Diego and Camp Pendleton and had strong ties with his sister and her daughter. Damián turned his attention to Karla and winked. “I’d be happy to give you some advanced lessons later, though. Maybe after your sets are over Wednesday night?”
The chokehold Adam had on his fork as he glared at Damián made it clear to Marc that wouldn’t be happening. He grinned. If Adam wanted her, he’d better mark his territory soon before Damián moved in. Suddenly, Marc couldn’t wait to see Adam practicing rope bondage on Karla tonight. Angelina on Luke? Well, maybe not as much. But it was time to get this show going.
Marc smiled across the table at the two chefs. “Thank you, Karla and Angelina. That was a wonderful meal.” A round of praises went around and everyone carried their dishes to the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. The leftovers were stowed in the fridge and Damián took his leave.
“So, we’re finally going to get to see this modern marvel,” Adam said.
“Well, it’s new to most of you. Luke’s been up there installing the furniture he made for me.” It was too pathetic to admit he and Luke were the only ones who’d been there. But that was about to change.
Angelina reached out and touched Luke’s forearm. “You make furniture, too, Luke?”
Marc tamped down the jealous feelings that reared up. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He’d try to keep his distance from her tonight and give them a chance. He had been monopolizing her since Saturday night.
“Yeah. Equipment might be a more accurate description.”
Marc led the group up the staircase. On the first landing a panoramic view of Denver spread out before them and the ladies stopped to look and comment on it. The lights twinkled as twilight set over the city. Marc preferred the western view from his bedroom to this one, though. Mt. Evans dominated that view, one of the prettiest sights in the world, next to Angelina. He watched her looking out the window in awe and wonder.
Marc cleared his throat. “This way,” he said as they continued up to the second floor hallway. He led them down the hall to his bedroom and walked up to what probably looked to them like a closet door and opened it. He flipped on the light switch, illuminating a staircase to the tower room. Standing aside, he motioned for them to enter. “Last set of stairs.” The narrow stairway forced them to go single file. Marc noticed Angelina had been holding Luke’s hand, which she released before stepping through the doorway.
Marc was the last to head up the stairs and closed the door behind him. When he reached the top, he saw Karla’s eyes open as wide as saucers and Angelina looking as if she’d tackle him to get back downstairs before taking another step.
Shit. He hadn’t realized seeing the cross that was identical to the one at the club, since Luke made both of them, would have such a strong an effect on her. Tonight certainly was not proceeding as planned.
* * *
Angelina came stockstill beside the king-sized bed sitting in front of thick red velvet drapes, but the site that riveted her was the St. Andrew’s cross on the other end of the room. Frighteningly like the one at the Masters at Arms club, it brought back memories of being beaten by Allen. Suddenly wound tighter than Uncle Guillermo’s mandolina, her body began to shake.
Oh, God, I can’t do this! She backed away.
“Easy, pet.” Angelina didn’t realize Marc stood behind her until his hands went around her, encircling her waist. He nuzzled her neck. “I don’t want you to fall down the stairs and hurt yourself.” Marc’s arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes, lowering her head. His warmth soaked into her cold skin, making her feel safe. Marc whispered in her ear, “I’m here, Amore. Don’t be afraid.”
She nodded. Tearing her gaze away from the floor she looked up to find Adam, Karla, and Luke staring at her with concern. Her face grew warm. She’d called this party together, so she’d better get with the program.
She pulled away from Marc and turned to force a smile a thanks. When she left his arms, her body felt chilled again. “So, where are the ropes?”
Marc reached out and tapped his index finger against the tip of her nose. “Watch out, Luke. This one’s rather anxious.” Marc grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Come, everyone. Let me give you the ten-cent tour first.”
Marc took her hand and led her over to Luke and then released her to him. She had the distinct impression he was pushing her toward Luke, who gave her a look of sympathy and took her hand in his, squeezing it. She smiled up at him and followed Marc to the right. She saw a wooden desk and what looked like the examination table in her doctor’s office, complete with stirrups. Her face flamed and her butt clenched as she remembered his words last night about knowing of a place where they could play doctor.
Angelina realized she hadn’t been listening. Focus.
“Of course, there are more theme rooms at the club, but these just happen to be a couple of my favorites. Luke made the desk, too.”
Angelina went over to run her hands over the gold-streaked walnut desk. The detail was amazing, for something that would just be used for…oh, don’t think about what kinds of fantasies were played out on that desk. She wondered how many woman he’d had laying there.
Don’t go there, Angie.
“I’ll get the rope.” Marc went to a cabinet in the corner. The rest of them walked across the room and Karla went up to the cross Angelina had been trying to avoid staring at. Karla ran her hands over the cherry wood, so like the one at the club. Angelina shuddered.
Karla looked at Adam. “How does she support her head on an X-shaped cross?”
When Adam just stood there as if he’d been turned to stone, Luke started to move forward to answer to Karla’s question, but Angelina pulled his hand back. When he looked down at her, she shook her head. He looked back at Karla, then Adam, and realization dawned. Luke smiled and nodded.
When it became clear to Adam that no one was going to answer the question for Karla, he stepped closer to her and reached down for her wrists. He lifted them over her head and when he took a step toward her, she instinctively stepped back and came up against the cross. Her eyes opened wider and she stared up at Adam. Angelina could see the pulse in her throat throbbing. Is that how Marc judged her response to him, by watching for tells like that? Adam pressed her wrists against the wood where one might attach them if wanting to restrain them.
“Your hands go here. Now, are you thinking about where you head goes at this moment?”
Karla shook her head.
Adam cleared his throat and stepped away, releasing her hands. “Don’t worry. The sub can keep her head upright, let it drop to whatever position is comfortable for her—or do whatever her Dom orders. Same for male subs.”
Angelina watched as Karla continued to stare as if mesmerized, leaving her hands exactly where he’d placed them.
Oh, Karla. Don’t look at him like that if you don’t mean business.
Angelina needed to bring her friend back to the present, so she ignored her aversion and walked up to the cross. “Believe me, Adam’s right. If you’re strapped to one of these, the last thing you’ll be thinking about is what to do with your head.”
Karla blinked and focused on Angelina, her eyes wide in wonder. Clearly, Adam’s touch had affected her more than she’d expected. Angelina leaned forward and whispered, “Are you okay, sweetie?”
Karla whispered a one-word description. “Ka-thunk.” Angelina chuckled. Karla leaned away and made eye contact, smiling. Angelina loved seeing her eyes sparkling. She just hope Karla knew what she was getting into if she decided to pursue Adam.
Marc joined them near the cross and took Angelina’s hand. Her stomach muscles clenched when he stretched her shaking hand out, forcing her to touch the cross. The wood was smooth, warm. Her heart jumped into her throat. Which way would he restrain her to the cross? Her stomach churned. Why, then, did she feel her pussy getting wet thinking of what he might do?
He smiled. “The cross isn’t all that different from the center post. Just a device for restricting the movement of the submissive. If your Dom is trustworthy, the experience will be very erotic and one you will…enjoy.
Keeping her hand in his, he walked over to the equipment next to the cross. Angelina hadn’t even noticed it until now, but she looked more closely. Good God! The contraption was made of leather and wood and looked like something out of a Victorian dungeon. Velvet pads provided a place to rest her knees, along with cuffs to restrain her ankles and thighs. A narrow bench-like expanse would support her trunk. She noticed a wide leather belt over the middle of the bench for her waist. At the other end was a round cushion much like the face rest on the table at her massage therapist’s.
Total restraint. She imagined herself kneeling, face down, arms outstretched and being strapped to the armrests that gave the appearance of those on a lethal injection gurney. The numerous leather straps with shiny brass buckles would keep her arms, legs, and even her waist restrained so she couldn’t interfere with a punishment.
Angelina began to shake. Her clit stirred to life. How could something like that turn her on?
She looked at Marc. He smiled. “This is a spanking horse. Luke made this, as well as the cross.”
Luke? How could such a sweet man make such devices used for torture? Okay, to be fair, they were only torture devices when in the wrong hands. But still! Angelina couldn’t get over how much the cross looked like the one at the club. She hadn’t seen any other crosses used for this purpose, but wondered if there was a standard pattern all BDSM craftsmen used or something.
She turned to Luke who shrugged. “It’s become a kind of hobby since I met Marc.”
Angelina was baffled that there were so many otherwise normal people involved in this subculture. She’d definitely led a sheltered life.
Marc handed Adam two bundles of rope still in the store packaging. Good to know he hadn’t used them on another woman.
* * *
Adam took the silk rope bundles from Marc and tried to think what he could demonstrate on Karla without getting too close. Well, how the fuck did he plan to tie her up without getting close? But perhaps he could minimize contact.
How the hell he’d gotten wrangled into this scene still baffled him. But the thought of Karla and Damián doing a Shibari bondage scene together rotted his gut. He looked over at Karla, who was intently watching Marc show off his spanking horse.
When had she gotten interested in this stuff? At the club, she could hardly watch most of what went on while she sang in the great room. Now she was curious about rope bondage and spanking?
Don’t be thinking about spanking her, old man.
No, he’d tie her up. That was it. Then he’d just go right back to avoiding her. That had worked for the last couple months, although he didn’t realize until dinner yesterday how much she needed someone to talk to about Ian.
“Well, who wants to go first?” Angelina asked.
Adam looked up to see her looking between him and Marc. Wanting to get this over as soon as possible, Adam stepped forward. “Karla, are you ready?”
When she looked at him and smiled, he saw a sparkle in her blue eyes for the first time since he’d been with her that Thanksgiving nine years ago. He’d been so intent on avoiding her that he hadn’t provided her with an ear for listening or just a hug when she needed one. If he wasn’t always thinking such perverted thoughts about her, he could have been the friend she’d come to Denver looking for.
Man, he’d sure fucked up this mission.
She stepped toward him and his eyes zeroed in on the red bustier she wore that left her shoulders and arms bare. Her breasts filled out the cups of the top and there was no fucking way he was going to demonstrate tit bondage. He’d keep those breasts pointed in the opposite direction for this tutorial.
“Do I call you Master Adam or just Sir?”
Aw, hon. Don’t ask me to pretend to be your Top. What are you trying to do to me?
“If you need to address me, Adam will be fine.” When he saw the disappointment in her eyes, though, he amended, “Or Sir will work, too.” The smile on her face made him realize how much he’d missed her smile over the years.
“Turn around.”
So much for her smile. Using his Dom voice, he’d wiped it right off her face. Karla didn’t strike him as particularly submissive, so her immediate response surprised him. She turned around and presented him with her gorgeous black curls cascading down her back. He wanted to run his hands through those thick locks, but restrained himself.
How was he going to narrate what he was doing when he couldn’t keep his mind on the task at hand? He’d done numerous demonstrations of Shibari at the club with Grant over the past four years and hadn’t had any trouble concentrating with her.
Focus, man.
“Shibari is the name Westerners use for the ancient art of Japanese rope bondage. In their culture, it actually was used for non-sexual purposes.”
Fuck. This is definitely non-sexual, too, Karla. Don’t get any other idea in your head.
“Most often, for restraining prisoners.”
Adam could see that he couldn’t begin the Teppou technique until he first wrangled her hair into submission. Don’t be thinking about getting her anything into submission, old man. He finger-combed her hair from her scalp to the nape of her neck. When Karla moaned, his dick went into a full salute. Total clusterfuck.
“It feels so good having you play with my hair, Sir.”
Adam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain his focus. “I’m not playing with it. I just need to get it out of the way before I can start.”
“I’m sorry it’s in the way, Sir.”
Damn. Now he’d hurt her feelings with his gruff tone. He reached down for one of the rope bundles and unwrapped it until he found the end piece. How had he gotten into this situation again? To go from not touching her and barely interacting except for small talk at chow, to touching her hair and making her moan as if he’d touched her…somewhere else, was more than he could take.
With unnecessary roughness, he gathered her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Unwanted images of pony play came to his mind. He’d never been into having a submissive act like a pony, although Joni had liked puppy play once in a while. His dick throbbed at the image of inserting a puppy tail plug into Karla’s… Adam’s hands began to shake. How was he going to get through the demonstration if he couldn’t even tie a fucking ponytail without nearly coming?
“Angelina, can you help by holding her hair until I get this hair corset started?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her impudent grin deserved some attention from a Dom, but Adam literally had his hands full with Karla.
With Angelina doing the job of a hair tie, Adam was able to make the lark’s head knot to anchor the rope onto Karla’s hair at the nape. “Thank you, hon.” Angelina nodded and took a step back, but continued to watch with rapt attention.
Marc surprised him by reaching down for a bundle of rope himself and began mimicking Adam’s moves, taming Angelina’s hair. She moaned, as well. What was it with women having their hair “played with,” as Karla put it? Joni’s hair had been short, so he’d never really thought much about it being sensual to have it touched. Joni just liked having it pulled. Adam wondered what it would be like to grab two fists of Karla’s hair while he…
Fuck. Good thing he didn’t have to think while he repeated the same knot over and over, because his mind had gone south. Too soon, he got to the end and reached down for the paramedic shears to cut off the ends. Trust Doc to have all the right equipment.
“There.” He filled his lungs as if he’d just run a sprint. Now it was time to run a marathon.
“Thank you, Sir.” Adam heard the catch in her voice.
Aw, hell. She sounded as if she’d been crying. Feeling like a heel, Adam slung the rope over his shoulder and walked around to stand in front of her. This most likely was Karla’s first time in bondage of any kind and he wasn’t even treating her with the respect he’d show a favorite dog. Time to put his wants and needs on a back burner and focus on the wannabe sub standing before him.
He placed his finger under her chin, and tilted her head up to meet his gaze, but she kept her eyes averted. He cupped her cheeks and used his thumb pads to wipe away the tears. She must have found waterproof mascara, because there was no trail this time, as there had been so many times before when she’d cried. He grinned.
“Look at me, Karla.”
She blinked several times and raised her gaze.
“I apologize for speaking so harshly. This is your first time, isn’t it?”
Karla blinked again and her eyes opened wider. After a moment, as if understanding finally dawned, she nodded.
“Thank you for allowing me to be your first. I’ll do better binding your arms than I did your hair. I promise.”
When she smiled, the vise that had constricted his heart for nearly a decade began to loosen a bit. His groin only grew tighter, but he had enough control over his body not to let his dick rule his other head.
He knew he was supposed to be demonstrating for the others, but his focus shifted to Karla. Only Karla. Her big blue eyes looked at him with so much trust.
“As I’m tying, don’t let me pull further than your comfort level. If it hurts or is too tight, just say ‘yellow” and I’ll back up a bit. You understand that pain isn’t the goal here?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” Her smile quavered and he tried to keep his attention away from her lips. He stroked her bare arms in long, gentle strokes. “I want you to relax. Take a slow, deep breath and release all the tension from your body.”
Adam watched her breasts rise as she followed his instructions, visibly relaxing her shoulders and arms. He took a slow deep breath of his own.
“The technique I’m going to use is called Teppou. It means gun because, when I’m finished, the shape of the tie and the placement of your hands will look like a gun slung diagonally across your back. Now, are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
Her appreciation before he’d even started warmed some cold place inside him. “Good. I want you to embrace the rope. Find release through restraint. I think you’ll understand more as we go along. Give me your right wrist.”
She presented her arm to him, a most precious gift, and he accepted it, taking her delicate wrist in his hand. Her skin was cool and he wrapped his hand around her tiny wrist a moment to infuse his warmth into her.
Taking the rope from his shoulder, he released her wrist and made a single-column tie, secure but not tight. He stepped behind her and lifted her arm until it was at a forty-five degree angle, her fingertips pointing toward the corner of the ceiling. He supported her outstretched upper arm just below her elbow, took the loose end of the rope, and pulled, gently drawing her wrist backward and down as if she were reaching behind her to draw a bow from a quiver. The gracefulness of the movement and the trust she placed in him touched him beyond words.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
Adam pulled her elbow out, away from her face, and bound her wrist to her upper arm. Her flesh trembled—or was it his own fingers? Once he had secured the tie there, he took her left hand and gently twisted it behind her back, extending it upward until it was directly below her other hand, separated by about six inches, with her palm facing outward.
“Are you in any pain or discomfort?”
“No, Sir.”
“If you become uncomfortable, what do you say?”
“Yellow, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Adam pulled the end of the rope from her upper arm and wrapped it around her forearm and then around her upper arm. He adjusted the rope, pulling tighter as he repositioned her upper elbow to keep the line of the “gun” right, and made several more loops around the right arm around the elbow.
She had an incredibly flexible body, probably because she was still so young. She would make an excellent demonstration partner at the club.
Fuck. Like that was going to happen.
He brought the rope back down to her lower arm, weaving it through the pattern numerous times and making quick work of the remaining loops. The sooner he finished, the better. He secured the end and his hand caressed the ropes and her hands. “Beautiful, pet.”
Realizing how he’d addressed her, he was shocked out of the scene. He circled around to stand in front of her. Her breasts were pushed out even more from the position of her arms, nipples hard, pressing against the bra cups of the low-cut top. If he’d thought this position would be less intimate, he’d been sorely mistaken.
“You did well, hon.” He cupped her cheek and she leaned into him, closing her eyes and causing his dick to throb.
Angelina whispered, “If I smoked, I’d want a cigarette right now. That was incredibly…hot.”
Adam turned in time to see Marc swat her backside and whisper, “Quiet, cara Don’t intrude on their scene.”
Adam cleared his throat. “It wasn’t a scene, just a demonstration.” He saw the hurt in Karla’s face, but needed to put some distance between them again. Stepping away, he said, “Marc, take a picture for Karla to see later.”
Because I don’t plan on having another demonstration with her anytime soon.