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The crunch of gravel beneath his feet signaled that they had reached the cabin area. His pace slowed, as if he was attempting caution now. If she could have laughed aloud, she would have done. She struggled to see, but when she shifted in his grasp, he lifted that rude, instructive hand of his, and slapped her with it—soundly.
Meg grunted through her gag, stunned. He'd spanked her in an attempt to keep her quiet. The level of outrage she felt
rose rapidly, then plateaued and melted away. An intense wave of stimulation traversed her core instead, and her sex clamped, her pussy tingling. The gag in her mouth was wet. Saliva had pooled in her mouth, mirroring the hot, slick fluid that gathered in the niche between her thighs. Damn him, he's turning me on.
When he got her inside the cabin, the sense of relief she felt was immense. Mercifully, no one had seen them. He pushed the door closed and carried her to the centre of the living space where one of the dining chairs from the tiny table in the kitchen had been set out.
He eased her down onto it.
Dizziness almost got the better of her. Piers supported her while she regained her equilibrium. He squatted in front of her, put his hands on her shoulders and studied her closely. He nodded, apparently happy with the state she was in, then unlocked the handcuffs. She watched cautiously. Was he going to let her loose?
He unlatched the buckles on her backpack, pulling it free.
She was about to attempt to stand up, when he moved behind her and drew her arms back, re-cuffing her wrists together behind the chair. As he did so, she realized he had linked the chain through one of the uprights on the wooden back so she couldn't pull away. Unbelievable! He meant to keep her like this.
When he appeared in front of her again, she grunted at him, staring down at the chair. She hadn't put it there. Obviously he had. He'd planned this, she realized. In detail. The cuffs, the gag, and the chair—all of it. So much for the drive making him this way. That wasn't the case at all. This was the result of careful planning. Had he let her come out here on her own so that he could do this, to humiliate her, to teach her a lesson? Livid at the idea of it, she flashed her eyes at him, kicking out as he passed.
He easily dodged her swipe then hauled his T-shirt over his head, casting it aside. The action made her breath hitch. She saw it then, how the exertion had affected him. His skin glistened, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath.
Why did he have to be so damned gorgeous?
He swiped back his hair with one hand, watching her all the while. "I'm not going to take the gag off until I know you understand me and why I'm doing this."
That didn't suit her at all. She shook her head at him.
He dropped into a squat again and put his hands on her thighs. The contact sent her into a frenzy of need, the whole situation doing bad things to her. She rolled her eyes.
He cocked his head, giving her a concerned look. "What? Are you too hot, hmm? Perhaps a little uncomfortable…sweetheart?"
The way he said 'sweetheart' meant his Scottish accent rolled the endearment out, his brogue at its best in its teasing form. The sound of it climbed inside her and by virtue of its power over her, made her vulnerable. Nevertheless, she narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious of his motives. There was a faux innocence about him that she didn't trust.
Piers had moved his attention to her feet and started to unlace her hiking boots. Something about the way he was squatted there—seeing to her comfort—undid some of the anger and tension inside her, and she looked at him, seeing him clearly for the first time since he'd arrived. It occurred to her then that he'd taken this glen over, the moment he'd arrived, mastering it. It was his way. He had a commanding presence.
That was only one reason why she loved him.
But he was now frowning over the laces, his hands crossing back and forth distractedly as he threaded them open. It made her focus. Piers hated tasks like this because they showed up his confusion about which was left and right hand, an aspect to his character that always made her ache for him, making her protective of her lover, that rare and quirky inadequacy that made him seem so utterly perfect in every way. But he was determined, unlacing her boots before he tugged them off, gently, cupping her heels as they were freed.
Piers didn't stop at the boots.
He pulled off her thick hiking socks and rubbed warmth into her feet the way he always did after they'd been hiking. Meg's thoughts ran in all directions. The gesture was comforting, but she was still outraged that he'd taken this line of behavior, marching in here as if they were still together and acting like some sort of caveman, hurling her over his shoulder. Yet part of her responded to it— that deeply buried womanly part of her that longed to be mastered by him.
He ducked down and gave each big toe a kiss then he moved his attention somewhere else. His hands went to her waist. When his gaze locked with hers, she saw the mischief in his eyes and realized what he was about to do. She shook her head violently, grunting through the gag. He'd already undone the button on her hiking pants and was lowering the zipper.
No. If he undressed her, he would discover how damp she was, how aroused. The fear forced her to recognize that was the case. I am aroused.
Only because it's been two months. Or was it?
The situation was doing weird things to her, and although she was angry, those strong hands of his tugging down her hiking pants while she was restrained and at his mercy made her core clench and her clit tingle wildly between the damp lips of her pussy.
"Easy now," he instructed when she tried to resist, her bare foot pushing at his hip, her bottom wedged into the chair. However, there was no way she could stop him now. He was determined, and he was a big, strong man. Because her wrists were tied behind her, there was nothing she could do. The scent of his skin made her inhale deeply. In her current state, all she could think about was having him over her. Did he intend to make love to her, or just torture her?
He rose up as he wrenched her pants off, casting them aside. Smiling down at her, he came back in for the underwear. When she kicked out, he grabbed her legs around the calves and chuckled. "I'm going to have you, whether you like it or not."
Meg swallowed, startled into stillness.
He wanted her.
She turned her face away, scarcely able to believe the enormous hit of pleasure that she got from his comment and the fact that she was a slave to his will. The heady rush made her limp and unable to resist as he pulled off her panties.
