Page 43 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

Cuffed

MADDIE

I held the eye contact as I dropped to my knees.

Easton reached out to run his thumb along my jaw. It was the same thing he did to himself, and I suddenly wondered if that was a coincidence. I didn’t have the chance to ask when he said, “So fucking perfect. Do you trust me?”

I answered without a breath of hesitation. “Yes.”

“Wrists.”

My eyes dropped from his to see that he held a set of golden handcuffs. Unlike the ones at the high tops that were attached to the tables, that pair was linked to his armchair.

I lifted my arms, offering my wrists to him.

Offering myself to him.

He encircled one with his own hand first before securing the heavy, cold steel around it. The click seemed to echo around us. He repeated the same process with no hurry.

Binding me to his chair.

I tested the weight before tugging. Unlike the plastic toy ones or the cheap fluffy ones I’d jokingly purchased from the novelty store in the mall, there was no give. The sharp edge dug into my sensitive skin.

“Madeline,” Easton snapped in warning since he liked my surrender not my pain.

I lowered my hands to my lap.

I’d sat like that in his office and house but never cuffed. And never where people could see. Both added another layer to the vulnerability I was able to feel with Easton.

The trust.

The submission.

I looked around again before tilting my head back to ask, “Is everything okay with Atlas and Cohen?”

“As far as I know. Why?”

“They didn’t say hi.”

“No one will because you’re mine.”

“What?” I forced out past the lump in my throat. And not one of discomfort or anger. It was desire so intense, I almost couldn’t think straight.

“Want to see?” He didn’t give me the chance to answer. He lifted his hand, and a server came right over.

The man didn’t so much as look at me, much less speak to me. His focus was solely on Easton. “What can I get for you?”

“A glass of champagne,” Easton said. “Thank you.”

The server didn’t ask for clarification that it was just the one drink. He didn’t ask if I wanted anything. He turned away and went to the bar to get the order.

As he did, Easton spun me on the cushion to face him. “No one will talk to you. No one will look at you. Not unless I say so.” He sat back. “And fair warning, I won’t.”

His words and body language were aloof, but the way he stared down at me was anything but. The intensity of his scrutiny watched for a reaction.

And I had one.

That shouldn’t be hot. None of it should be.

Yet it was.

Arousal surged to my sex and coated my thighs until I worried it would leave a stain on the cushion under me.

Matching heat filled his dark gaze, and he shifted forward suddenly. My breath caught, and I braced, waiting to see what he would do.

If we would leave or if he would take me to a backroom.

I knew it had to be one of those.

Before he could tell me which, Cohen and Atlas approached. Cohen flopped down in the vacant chair and stretched a leg out. Atlas positioned himself behind his brother as he kept a watchful gaze on the room. Just as Easton had said, neither spoke to me. Neither even glanced at me.

And since he hadn’t said otherwise, I remained silent, too.

It was the right choice. He reached out to tease his fingers along my shoulders as he asked them, “Has it been this busy all night?”

“Busier,” Atlas grumbled as his brother grinned and nodded.

The glass of champagne was set in front of Easton—with again no reaction by the server—and he lifted it. His gaze dropped to me, and there was a challenge in them I didn’t understand. “Are you thirsty, Madeline?”

I nodded and reached for it. I cringed when the chains rattled and pulled taut.

He cupped my jaw in his free hand. “Open.”

I thought he was going to pour the drink into my mouth. That would’ve been dominant enough.

He didn’t.

When I did as he said, he held my eyes as he took a hefty sip of the champagne.

And then he bent and let the stream run from his mouth to mine.

It was degrading and domineering. Insane and filthy.

And I loved it so fucking much, I was pretty sure I nearly came.

My cheeks flushed from the desire and from having that response publicly.

“So perfect.” His voice was a gravelly rumble filled with pride and fire. “And all of it mine.”

He kept that hold on my face as he returned to his conversation like that wasn’t a wild thing to have done.

And it wasn’t. Not to them or anyone else around us.

In that moment, I understood why we were there.

Gilded was the one public place where he could show exactly how much control he wielded over me. After what he’d overheard, he must’ve wanted to flex that power.

Even if I wasn’t enjoying it—which I very much was—I would’ve done almost anything he ordered. Because with a smile curving his mouth, Easton relaxed for the first time all night.

I’d done that for him.

After a while, I tested how much leeway his grip gave me and inched forward. His alert eyes darted down to check in with me as his hand slid down my throat.

I smiled up at him—the epitome of fake innocence—and contrary to the stern warning in his glare, the rest of his expression softened.

I pushed my luck and whispered, “Take me home?”

“Not yet, mine.”

Mine.

Oh motherfucking swoon.

“How was the movie?” Cohen asked.

“Honestly? Damn good. Maddie will tell you about it another time since movies are her thing.”

My lips parted, but I caught myself before more than a squeak escaped.

Easton stared me down even as he spoke to the other man. “A different time because I’ve had to share her enough tonight.”

I pressed my lips closed.

They kept talking about the movie—and more specifically, Tripp. No one blinked when Easton touched me with tormenting frequency.

Or when he used the slack on the cuffs to yank me closer until I was biting my lip to choke back my moans.

Or when his fingertips teased my shoulder before running down to trace the curve of my breast.

Between his teasing at the movie and party, his touches in the car, and everything at Gilded, I was barely holding on. Desperation clawed at my chest until tears of frustration pooled in my eyes.

Easton noticed them, too. He was simply unmoved. If Cohen had spotted my suffering, he wasn’t concerned, either.

Shockingly, it was Atlas who called for mercy. “I think you need to get your toy home before she breaks herself.”

Easton leaned back and ran his thumb along his jaw as he studied me. “You think?”

“Nah, she seems fine to me,” Cohen said, and I could’ve beat him with the cushion under me.

I barely stifled the urge or my sob.

“Ah, hell,” Atlas bit out on my behalf.

“I guess you’re right,” Easton said after a long, agonizing minute.

Cohen wasn’t done securing his spot as public enemy number one. “You sure? I’ve been thinking we might update our NDA and wanted your feedback.”

Thankfully, Easton didn’t take the opening to extend my pain. “Next time.”

Oh good, now I don’t have to beat him. Just Cohen.

The men said their goodbyes before my date leaned forward so his face was in mine. “Did you like tonight?”

I should’ve hated it because I was so turned on, it physically hurt. I still told the truth when I admitted, “Yes.”

“Done up like a princess but on your knees for me. If I reach under that fluffy princess skirt, am I going to find a soaked mess?”

I gave him honesty again. “I’m worried I ruined the pillow.”

“Let’s go, Madeline.” He carefully unlatched my wrist before rubbing the skin there. After he helped me stand on wobbling legs, I snuck a peek at the cushion.

There was no mark.

Phew.

Only Easton didn’t share my relief.

He looked disappointed. “Next time.”

He’s insane.

And I’m insane for liking it so much.

Each step I took through the club was like measured torture.

My skin felt too tight. Too hot. Too everything .

Every sensation seemed magnified. I was painfully aware of my soaked panties clinging to me.

The overstimulation was even worse when we stepped out into the cool breeze that tightened my nipples to painful pebbles.

Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait there. Vic was parked close. He opened the door, and didn’t blink at us. No knowing smirk. No judgment or derision.

Once we were inside, he closed the door.

And that was as long as Easton could wait.

He twisted in the seat to seal his mouth to mine in a maddening kiss that left me lightheaded.

“On your knees,” he ordered. I thought he meant for me to drop to the floor—and I would’ve—but his hands on my waist lifted me so I was kneeling on the seat.

“Lift your skirt for me, Madeline. Let me see how bad you want to be with an old guy like me.”

I rolled my eyes, but I did it while obeying him.

Running a finger over the thin fabric of my panties, his nostrils flared. “Baby, you’re sopping.”

“I told you,” I whispered.

He pushed between my slit with the stupid barrier preventing what I needed.

To not be so damn empty.

“You liked being my pretty possession on display?” he asked.

I muffled a cry when he stroked against my clit as I frantically nodded my head. I hoped it was enough because I wasn’t capable of words.

It must’ve been because he tugged my panties to the side, giving himself access that he didn’t take. He just teased, running his fingertip back and forth. “You’re just a pathetic needy mess, aren’t you?”

I whimpered as I gave another frantic nod.

“Fuck it. Panties off, Madeline.”

I nearly toppled off the cushy seat in my rush to obey. As I did, he freed his hard cock, fisting it to stretch upright.

I thought I might weep with joy.

“Come here.” Lifting me, he positioned me so I straddled him with just the head of his cock spreading me. I wiggled my hips, trying to ease the painful tension that’d settled low in my belly, but I got nowhere. He held me. Held all the power.

Easton Wells held the control.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly.

“You. Always you. Only you. Please.”

I wasn’t even sure I knew what was spewing from my mouth except that it was the truth.