Page 19 of Marking Micah

She drew in a long breath and did her best to prepare herself to be ready.

Arrow took her hand and led her to the padded table, then turned her to face it so that her back was to him. And he began to very gently smooth his palms over her skin: her shoulders, down her spine, then back up, tracing her waist with his fingertips. Itwas the oddest thing; it felt amazing and was terrifying at the same time.

It’s him. It’s Arrow. It’s okay.

She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

“Ah, good, girl,” he said, his voice a quiet murmuring tone, just as she’d heard him use to gentle China when they’d entered the stall. “Let’s do some breathing together.”

He placed his big hands on her shoulders, grounding her. “Match your breath to mine. You’re going to pull in a long, slow breath through your nose, then slowly exhale through your mouth.”

Behind her, she heard him begin to inhale, and she did as he’d said, aligning her breath with his. A long inhale, a slow exhale, over and over, until her body began to relax, and as she loosened up, she found herself leaning into him until the hard planes of his chest were up against her back. He was warm and strong, and as she breathed, she pulled in his familiar scent, earthy sandalwood and clean citrus, and it calmed her even more.

His mouth was right against her ear as he whispered, “And now we begin.”

Her blood went hot at those words, racing through her veins, but she knew this was what they’d come for. And as nervous as she was, there was also that steady pulsebeat of desire between her thighs.

“Whatever you’re feeling, I need you to allow yourself to feel it,” he said, “whether it’s nervousness, or need, or even anger. There’s a lot going on in your head right now, I can tell. I knew there would be. But don’t fight it, Micah. And I’ll be right here with you every single moment.”

He took a step back, but his hands never left her. They slid down from her shoulders, over her arms, then he turned her to face him. She kept her gaze on her hands as he pulled a pairof soft, black leather cuffs from a back pocket and cuffed her wrists together. A flash of heat went through her as he fastened the buckles, and although there was a slight trace of fear, mostly it was a yearning for exactly this: for him to take over. To be completely in his hands.

His hands.

How long had it been since she’d felt this? That sense of being decorated while being bound? It was something she’d been so afraid to even try, but he’d just done it, so effortlessly she’d barely had time to think about it. As she breathed in the scents of leather andhim, the fear retreated, until it was nothing more than a whisper in the background.

He stroked her hands, opening her palms, and there was something so incredibly sensual about him brushing her palms with his fingertips, her nipples went hard, as though he’d touched her there. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into sensation, and her body buzzed with the need coursing through her.

He stopped, laying his fingertips in her open hands, and it was as if they were suspended together in that simple moment. How was it she felt such a powerful sense of connection with him simply touching her hands? A wave of emotion surged through her, but she did her best to swallow it down.

He’s your friend.

But would that be the whole truth by the time the evening was over? And did she want it to be?

He gently pulled his hands back, then ran them up her arms, then down, before settling at her waist.

“I’m going to put you down on the table now,” he said quietly.

Her heart hammered as he picked her up and did exactly as he’d said, lifting her as though she were one of those petite rope bunnies, instead of her gangly five-foot-nine frame, and set her down on the edge. He pressed on her shoulders until she gave inand went down onto her back as he lifted her legs to position her. When he pulled her bound wrists over her head and snapped a carabiner onto them, then attached them to a chain at the top of the padded table, she gasped. Not that she’d never been bound this way, but not since the incident.

Don’t think about that right now. Just don’t.

She began her breathing again, trying to let some of the tension go.

He leaned over her and softly kissed her forehead. It was something he’d done at least a dozen times before, mostly when she was in the hospital, but this felt very different somehow.

“I need you to really try to focus, Micah. Just know that I’m watching you very closely. And know that I’ll be able to see if you’re in real distress. But if you’re not, if you’re simply fighting it, I am going to push through. You need to give yourself permission to let me. You need to give yourself over to it, because that’s what’s happening whether you decide to fight me or not.”

“Oh!”

She couldn’t help it. She knew she was supposed to remain silent, but the sound just came out. His words were a little bit shocking, although they shouldn’t be. He was a Dom, after all.

He bent closer, his mouth right next to her ear as he stroked her hair. “Micah. This is your last chance to tell me you don’t want to go through with this. After this, I’ll expect you to use your safewords only as you really need them. So tell me, is this a yes? Or a no?”

God, the sound of his voice so close to her, the scent of him, the knowledge that this was actually happening, overwhelmed her senses, and for several long moments she was unable to speak. But she knew down to her bones what she wanted. What she needed.

Finally she whispered. “Yes. Please, Sir.”

He didn’t respond, just kept stroking her hair until she wanted to purr like a cat. Oh, this man knew exactly what he was doing. She was hot all over, and her pussy was practically on fire—with him doing nothing more than touching her hair! But he had her—had her in the sense of being able to read her like a book, and alsohadher. She knew he would absolutely take care of her, that she wouldn’t be harmed in any way. But she also knew she’d have to keep reminding herself of that.

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