Page 34 of Bound

“Okay, okay!” she blurted. “I—I am trying—”

“No trying. No talking.” Fuck, this felt good. “Just obedience. That’s all you exist for right now. Empty your gorgeous little head of everything else but that.”

He tossed her an approving rumble as she finally unhooked her bra and peeled away her plain T-shirt. The act knocked loose some of the foil square things piled on her head, forming cute little blue splotches across her delectable skin.

He’d never taken such delight in connect-the-dots before.

Mentally, he did just that—starting with the curious, jagged line between the light spray surrounding her left nipple, to the sizable blob coating her right. He imagined how her skin would pebble if he decided to smear that dye. How her pert nipples would become strained, erect nubs. How he could pinch them until the hard red points showed through the blue stain, both colors contrasted by the dark cream of her firm breasts. Fuck, he’d never been more stricken by a creative interpretation of his country’s colors, even if it was still in his head.

Oh, say can you see…

“Perfect. You’re so goddamned perfect, Pixie.”

By the dawn’s early light…

“Thank you, Sir.”

“No. Talking. Only obeying, little girl. Now shuck those shorts for me.”

And sweet damn, she was light. Early, late, and in-between—the entire glorious spectrum of the stuff. So much of it flowing from her desire-filled gaze. Even more shimmering across the dark curls at her intimate apex. It even reached to her toes, ten flawless points that were coated in red polish. A devilish color for his divine pixie angel.

The comparison got better as she rose from pushing her shorts to the floor. Her expression blended seraphic honesty with diabolic desire. Brick vacillated between adoring her and cursing her for it. But she couldn’t be blamed for the open ogle, considering the state to which his dick was rapidly rising. What had made him think a pair of borrowed scrubs were a wise idea for this?

Because he hadn’t, in his wildest imaginings, predicted things happening like this. By this point, he was supposed to be ejected on his figurative ass and halfway back to the infirmary, enduring the world’s most knotted gut because he hadn’t apologized decently to her. In every single scenario he’d concocted, nothing came close to standing here in shameless reverence of her total nudity. They certainly didn’t include how he’d be contemplating her next nasty act. Hopefully, something fun for him too.

Goddamn, the possibilities. The choices were so beautifully boundless, but their time was so cruelly limited.

But luckily, he’d dealt with cruelty before. He also knew how to spit back at it—especially if kink was involved.

Especially with a subbie who had told him not to take it easy on her.

“Stand all the way up now, sweetheart. Shoulders proud. Tits forward.” While he used the order to buy himself time for inspiration, the visual reward was an extra bonus. She was his stunning little soldier, at full attention even with more blue blobs dripping over her neck, collarbones, and breasts.

Fuck him so hard. Her breasts.

In Paris, Fate hadn’t allowed him the chance to soak up their full glory. At the safehouse, he’d been concerned about making her first fuck one of her best. And during their dry hump in the cemetery, it’d been a good thing to even see her face.

Now, he couldn’t get enough of ogling her. Marveling at her red dart points, seeming to strain for him despite her formal stance. Delighting at how her areolas puckered and hardened, becoming the ideal bull’s-eyes for those perfect nipples.

“So gorgeous,” he said softly. “But I think we can do better.”

He said it because his improvisation genius had finally decided to come to the party. He indulged it with a fleeting smirk and a steady sweep of his hand toward her vanity top. When he turned back around and approached Jayd with steady intent, it was damn fun to read the confusion on her petite features. Clearly, she was ready to question what he was all about, though she obeyed his upheld finger and waited in dutiful silence.

He’d never had such a good time reducing a submissive to shivers.

The tremors that intensified as he lifted his hands, each bearing a bright-red hair clip.

They were the smaller kind of hair fixtures, used for shit like holding back bangs, able to bend and snap in the middle. Brick had no idea what they were technically called. He only knew he was going to have some fun with them.

“Yes, my little pixie. Now we’re going to have some fun.”

She was still being good. She responded only with a deep inhalation and the dawning awareness in her wide gaze. Holy crap, he loved these small but supreme moments. When a woman read his intent, knew exactly what it meant for her, but persevered with full compliance, he was that much closer to the sanctum of his Dom space.

That much closer to owning a new part of this female.

“Reach behind, sweetheart. Lock your hands behind your back.” He caught the full force of her wordless challenge to that and explained, “It’ll be easier for you to resist reaching up.”

She gave him another questioning look.