Page 19 of Snow Bound (Odyssey #1)

“P ut me down, you big ape!” she howled.

“Big ape?” He clucked his tongue and started up the stairs. He paused briefly to snag the bag he’d dropped by the stairs when she was pretending not to notice him, then continued up. “ You are just racking up the bad girl points. Your poor ass.”

“Poor ass, my ass,” she muttered and made him grin.

“This will go a lot easier on you if you behave and take your punishment like a good girl,” he said mildly, and waited for the explosion.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“Punishment?” she howled. “ For what? I’m naked, aren’t I ?”

“You are.” He turned into the bedroom. “ But I distinctly recall asking for pancakes this morning.”

“Oatmeal is good for you,” she said righteously, then spoiled it with a snorting laugh.

“It tasted like wallpaper paste,” he said baldly and she burst out laughing.

She was still laughing when he set her on her feet next to the bed, her brown eyes dancing through a curtain of tousled, flame colored hair. “ You actually ate it?”

He dropped the bag on the foot of the bed. “ Didn’t you?”

“No.” She had her hands pressed against her mouth to muffle her giggles. “ I had lemon crepes.”

“You had crepes while I ate that cement mix masquerading as food?” His scowl was only partially an act. “ So many bad girl points.”

She smirked, and her stance was all defiant confidence—shoulders back, head up, breasts proudly thrust forward.

Her legs were braced slightly apart, her fingers tapping impatiently on her hips, head cocked as if to say, ‘whatcha gonna do about it, big boy?’.

But she was chewing on her bottom lip, something he’d noticed she did when she was thinking or feeling uncertain, and vulnerability lurked in the velvety depths of her eyes.

Her hair draped over her shoulders, just long enough to cover the tops of her breasts. The bright, flame colored ends curled to a stop just shy of her nipples. Her breasts were soft and bottom-heavy, her nipples pretty little puffs of pinkish-brown that he couldn’t wait to clamp.

She’d issued a challenge this morning, and he intended to meet it.

He let his gaze drift down to her hips, the sweet curve of her belly, firm thighs that he’d turn red before he was through. Her legs flexed under his regard, and he suppressed a smile.

Nervous, and like any prey, trying not to show it.

He looked at her face again, delighted to find her flushed. He twirled a finger in the air. “ Turn .”

Her chin came up, eyes narrowed. “ I’m not some little doll you can direct.”

“You are right now,” he countered and quick as a snake, delivered a stinging smack to one thigh. She squawked in pain and outrage, but lust bloomed in her eyes. He watched her struggle to put the scowl back on her face.

Deciding not to give her the chance, he smacked the other thigh. “ Now , sugar, or you’re going to be black and blue before we even get started.”

She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything, he surmised from the heat and longing in those fathomless eyes. But she still managed to curl her lip at him before she dutifully turned.

“Mmm.” He let appreciation warm his voice, soften his hands as he stroked them down her back, over the ripe curves of her ass. “ I love this bubble butt.”

She made a choked sound but didn’t turn. “ What’d you call my ass?”

“Bubble butt,” he said bluntly and danced his fingers over it. His hands were rough, her skin soft, and he knew the friction, though light, would be keenly felt.

He grinned when she shivered.

He stepped closer, letting his body heat warm her, and brought his mouth to her ear. “ I’m gonna fuck this bubble butt before I’m done with you.”

Her muscles were tense in anticipation, her breathing rough. Her hips rolled, ever so slightly, and her ass brushed against the front of his jeans. He heard her swallow, and knew she’d felt the hard ridge of his erection though the denim.

“Oh, really?” she breathed and rolled her hips again. She pressed hard against him this time, the lush curve of her ass cushioning his hard cock. He had to clench his jaw to hold back the moan.

“But first things first. You’ve earned a punishment, haven’t you?”

“You don’t really want to punish me,” she said, a cajoling lilt to her voice, and reached back to grab his thighs. She curled her nails into him to tug him closer, pressing against his erection. “ Not when there are so many other things we could do.”

He grinned into her hair. She was good, but he’d been a Dom a long time. He had a responsibility to keep his play partners safe, and that often meant foregoing sex altogether during a scene. His dick was used to playing second fiddle.

He let her grind into him for a moment, enjoying the sweet friction, then slipped a hand gently into her hair. Her sigh of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise when he twisted his hand and yanked her head back to look her in the face.

“Nice try,” he drawled and, using his grip on her hair, dragged her toward the bed. “ Lie down.”

When she was in place, on her back with her head propped up on the pillows and eyeing him with a mix of defiance, trepidation, and heat, he picked up the bag.

Anna drew a steadying breath. He loomed over her like some kind of sadistic god—ridiculously handsome, exuding sex, and gatekeeping his dick.

The bastard.

She tried to project some of that animosity when he looked at her, but he just sent her a sunny grin, and she was afraid she’d failed miserably. Either that, or he didn’t mind at all being the cause, or the object, of her lust-induced hate.

He glanced at the pillow under her head. “ Lift up a second, sugar,” he told her, and when she did, slid the pillow out from under her. “ Down again.” He surveyed the result critically. “ That’s better. Put your hands together, wrists facing, and give them to me.”

“What if I don’t want to?” she challenged, just because she thought she should.

He bent down so his face was a breath from hers. “ I’ll make this really easy for you,” he whispered. “ You do what you’re told, and you get to come. You don’t, and you won’t.

“Safewords still work, of course,” he continued. “ But defiance will get you nothing but a whole lot of frustrated. We clear?”

She shouldn’t have been shocked. She definitely shouldn’t have been turned on.

But somehow, she was both. He was smiling, but it wasn’t pleasant.

He looked as though he was just waiting for her to push back so he could lay down the law.

She studied his face, his eyes, the set of his shoulders, looking for cracks or chinks in the armor, a back door she could slide through on a technicality.

She saw nothing but absolute determination and a feral hunger that made her mouth water and her heart pound.

Wow.

One dark eyebrow arched. “ I’m waiting.”

She blinked. She’d genuinely forgotten what they were talking about. “ For what?”

His hand cracked down on her thigh and sent heat flooding her system. “ Still waiting.”

“Fine.” She had to grit her teeth against the moan and steel herself to look him in the eye, and raised her hands.

“There’s a girl.” He brushed a surprisingly gentle kiss over her mouth, as though he knew what that had cost her, then he was straightening again and drawing a length of rope from the bag he’d set on the bed.

He grasped her wrists with firm fingers and began winding the rope around them. “ I would apologize for the crudeness of this rope,” he said as he worked. “ But I’m improvising.”

She would have rolled her eyes at that, but the feel of the rope distracted her. It was rough against her skin, the fibers coarse. It was the kind of all-purpose rope you’d use to tie something to the roof of the car, but thicker. It was about the width of her thumb, and the color of dried wheat.

“Try to get out of that.”

She started to obey, then froze, wary of a trick. “ Why ?”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “ Because I said so.”

She hesitated for another second, then decided to take him at his word. She shifted her wrists, pulling and tugging at the bonds. The rope scraped her skin, but it wasn’t painful, and she had room to move while still being unable to free herself.

“Anything pinching, biting, scratching too badly?”

She shook her head. “ It’s rough, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Good enough. Raise your arms over your head.” He took the loose end of the rope and looped it through an open space in the headboard.

She inhaled sharply as her arms were pulled above her head, instinctively struggling to free herself. The sense of helplessness at being unable to get loose brought both the sharp tang of fear and a flood of desire.

He waited, patient and steady, until her struggles ceased. “ Okay ?”

She nodded, licking her lips. “ Yes , Sir ,” she managed, and her voice was hoarse with emotion.

He stroked a finger down her cheek. “ Look at you, being a good girl.”

While she dealt with the unexpected pleasure his words brought he came up with more rope, looping it around each ankle with as much care as he’d shown her hands.

He left a considerable length dangling from each foot, so she expected him to tie her spread eagle to the corners of the footboard.

When he directed her to bend her knees, she blinked in confusion. “ What are you doing?”

“Whatever I want,” he said, pushing her heel back so it touched her butt.

He looped the rope around her upper thigh, making minute adjustments to the placement and tension of the ropes, then did the same on the other leg, then stepped back with a satisfied smile.

“ There we go. All trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

“Your Thanksgivings must be more interesting than mine,” she managed, looking down at herself with a combination of resignation and delight. Experimentally , she tried closing her knees. A sharp tsk from him made her freeze.

“Keep those knees apart, sugar, or I’ll tie them down too.”