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Stop. Fuck that.
She went a step closer to him, within reach of his powerful hands that had broken three strong men in one night. A raw energy gathered, prepared to leap. He was going to reach out, grab her, make her startle or flinch, which was what that demon inside him wanted. It wanted to make her afraid. That's how it would take control. So...
She slapped him, then caught his shirt collar and yanked him back to her mouth for a violent kiss. When his arms went around her, she ripped open his shirt in one pull, summoning a snarl from him. His hands clamped on her hips and she countered, raking her nails down his chest, drawing blood. She'd had the occasional hardcore sub who craved bloodplay, and she knew how to deliver that when needed.
Gray eyes went back to lightning storm, but she'd startled him enough to get a split-second of advantage. She ducked under his arm, gripped the back of the shirt collar and yanked the whole garment off his broad shoulders to his forearms, restricting their movement. She hit the small of his back with the heel of her hand, pulled him back to his heels and put him on the ground while his balance was off. Shoving him face-forward to the tile, she changed her grip to his neck and planted her knee in his back, digging her nails into his flesh.
He wasn't the first grown man she'd had to take down.
"You're under the mistaken impression that there's a rabbit in this room, boy," she said sharply. "And you think you're the big, bad wolf. That may be true, but I'm the she-wolf here, the bitch in charge. If you want to turn this into an all-out fight, you might win the physical side. You're a strong beast. But if you want me to show fear, cower or startle when you whip out all that badness, you've picked the wrong fucking female."
She backed off him in one lithe move and spoke in the same ruthless tone. "Your hands should still be able to reach your buckle. Strip off your belt and hand it to me. Then open your jeans and push them down to your knees. If you can't handle that, if you're afraid of me, if you just want to be done with this, you can leave. I won't stop you. But if you stay, you do as you're fucking told."
Slowly, he maneuvered himself to his knees, head bowed. She cou
ld see his profile in silhouette, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the way his fists were clenched at his hips, beneath the folds of the tangled shirt.
Reaching out, she feathered her fingers over his bare shoulder, the point of his neck, an easy stroke. She kept doing it, a casual gesture at odds with her hard demand and the violence of the past moment. At length, she took the shirt off of him, helping him slide the sleeves over his hands, and stepped back. She masked her held breath and tense center, which didn't release until he unbuckled the belt. Stripping it from his lean waist, he held it out to his side for her. His jeans slid down to his hips.
"Good." She took it from him and watched the ripple of movement across his shoulders as he unzipped the pants and pushed them to his knees. He wasn't wearing underwear, as he'd said, and his ass was fine and tight, muscles flexing, the neat seam between his buttocks making her want to tease and probe.
"Rise." She put her hand under his elbow to steady him. "Take off the shoes and socks, then get rid of the jeans."
When he complied, Marius was naked in her kitchen. As she circled him, she noticed with satisfaction and a nice spear of lust his cock was high and stiff. She looped the belt around the base, cinched it, then brought the tongue up to her shoulder so she could see his reaction as she pulled, so insistently he lurched a step forward. It wouldn't stop the strap from biting into tender flesh.
He showed his teeth at the pain, but she ignored that. Instead, she dropped her free hand and gripped his cock, stroking the smooth but hard erection with light fingertips. When at last she allowed the belt to loosen and slip away, she replaced it fully with her hand. As his gaze went opaque and lips parted, she gave the belt to him, pressing it into his half-curled palm. "Put it behind your back, and wind it around both your wrists," she said. "Restrain yourself. We're going to take a walk together."
His brow furrowed but his shoulders twitched as he began to comply. She didn't let herself indulge the victory. She kept stroking his shaft, investigating the glans and slit with a probing thumb, noting the quiver through his muscles as his arousal started to build and pre-come dampened her skin. He was getting thicker and bigger in her grasp, a temptation to which she wasn't immune. Her own body tightened, loosened and liquefied in all the right ways.
She was also getting warm. She let go of him long enough to strip off her halter top. As she stood before him in jeans and a demi-cup bra that barely held her breasts in a frame of lace and sheer mesh, his gaze tracked the sparkling spider pendant resting in her cleavage. He moistened his firm lips and she could feel them there, along with the tip of his clever, teasing tongue.
She increased her grip on his cock, emitting a purr as it convulsed under her touch. "Walk with me," she said. "One step back for me, one step forward for you." She put pressure on his cock to help him understand, and he did. He moved with her as she brought her other hand to rest on his chest, controlling their pace. He had his hands wrapped in his belt so his chest was open terrain for her to explore. Stroke, play with a taut nipple with her thumb, tug on his chest hair, scratch him with her nails. He missed a stride and stepped on her foot, but they were both barefoot. Her quick smile seemed to knock something loose, his intensity lessening, lips quirking. He took a breath, chest expanding under her touch.
"So this is being led around by the cock?"
"The literal interpretation, yes. Much better than the pejorative meaning. You're your own man, Marius. I don't make any choices for you. Not even the choice to stay here."
They were moving down the hallway, nearly at her playroom. She stopped, letting go of his cock with a caressing touch, and gestured into it. "Go stand in the center of the room."
He moved into the space, filling it up with his size and the energy vibrating from him. She let him look his fill, see the spanking bench, the several pieces of BDSM furniture she'd splurged upon over the years. The walls were extra insulated oak paneling to muffle noise, the floor covered with a bold, dark red throw rug.
Rising on her toes, she unhooked a pair of steel cuffs from the doubled over chains embedded in the ceiling beams. The doubling over was a practical measure to keep her from banging into them when she was doing other things in the room.
"Drop the belt to the floor."
She'd picked up his shirt, and now shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in her bra and panties, a matching mesh and lace. Shrugging into his shirt, she left it open over the set, and freed her hair from the collar. She wrapped herself in his scent, enjoying the touch of the cloth still holding the heat of him. His face might be hard to read right now, but the way he had his gaze locked on her sent its own message.
She stepped closer to run a hand down the valley of his spine, slow, molding her palm to his lower back and hip. "Put on the cuffs. Do you trust me enough to do that?"
In answer, he locked them onto his wrists.
So she was going with soft play. Surprising, since his reputation was for more hardcore stuff, but so far, even in pony play, she'd gone a different way. Well, yes and no. He'd expected the pony play to be undemanding, but she'd used the trappings to mindfuck him pretty damn well, taking him somewhere he hadn't been before. So maybe he shouldn't assume he knew where she was going with this. Thinking he did kept him in a comfort zone that might not last very long.
This, his hands in cuffs, he'd done this before. It was like a Domme staple. When she pulled them up, taking the slack out of the chain so his arms were over his head, she didn't put any strain on his shoulders. She even double-checked that with the welcome grip of her smooth hand on those muscle groups. Was he disappointed? No...not necessarily. But her going the well-worn track with him was unexpected. She'd probably do a little flogging or spanking, maybe take him with a strap-on, have him come.
What he wanted to compel her to do was fuck him herself, her tight, wet pussy sliding down the full length of his cock, her ass pressed against his upper thighs as she seated herself there. She'd denied him direct participation in her last climax, denied him the right to fuck her. It was starting to piss him off. Or maybe that was the cuffs, this whole soft approach. He wanted a fight. He wanted her to push, to hurt.
Hell, what was she fucking planning to do? She'd asked if he trusted her enough to let her cuff him. He did. But alarm bells still went off. Especially when she put a blindfold on him, an eye mask she seated securely so he was kept in darkness.
