Page 35 of Bound and Beguiled

I nodded without hesitation.

Kynan’s ears curled with pleasure, then he was kissing me. His hands massaged the small of my back, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, sinking into him.

The sounds of music and laughter from the bar filled the stairwell for a split second as the door behind me opened.

Kynan’s rough handling had loosened the thick braid I’d worn to work that evening, and he took his time gathering up the messy strands. The whole time, his tongue stroked against mine, ravenous.

Everything stopped at the first slide of leather against my neck.

I sat, frozen. Kynan leaned back, watching me intently as the collar—it had to be a collar, and a nice one at that, going by the feel—tightened around my neck. Guided by his magic, leather slipped through the buckle, locking it in place.

A collar. My mind raced. Should I protest? Did I...like it?

“Mine.” Kynan’s hand closed over the leather, squeezing it tight against the sides of my neck.

Every hair on my body stood on end. Every drop of moisture streaked between my legs. That answered that question. I more than liked it.

I loved it.

My head fell back and I leaned into his grip, a needy, wordless sound slipping from my lips.

“That’s my sweet little submissive.”

Metal chimed as my bands were pushed up my arms, then more leather closed around my wrists, the soft-rough brush of suede making me shiver. Invisible hands pulled the cuffs, and I eagerly followed their lead, turning and bending until the smooth, slightly uneven wood of the stairs pressed against my palms.

“Don’t move.” Kynan’s voice was thick with command, his confidence leaving no room for rebellion.

I expected more panic. I got peace. It swept through me, leaving me still and almost floaty. For a few heartbeats, relief was all there was. Then confusion crept in, fear and shame clinging to it like leeches, and a small sound broke from my throat.

“Talk to me, Reza.” Kynan stroked me as he waited, palms rubbing over me in warm circles just this side of a massage. At the same time, his magic wrapped around my wrists and ankles, holding me immobile.

I shuddered, my spine softening. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Is it some kind of spell? Why am I reacting like this, when before—” The words disappeared into a guttural moan as an invisible hand grasped the center of my collar, pulling until my face rested between my hands and the rigid bulge beneath Kynan’s leather kilt bumped my ass. He chuckled.

“No spell, Reza. Just the magic of consent.”

My eyebrows furrowed. That was as clear as mud.

“Nothing that happened between you and that fucker was your choice. No, not even that.” He cut off my argument before I’d more than twitched, and his voice left no room for debate. “But you want me, don’t you, Reza?”

The sexy purr made my mouth water. I swallowed. It was that or drown.

“Want me to use you.” His hips ground against my ass. “Want to let go, because you trust me to guide you.” He kicked my legs apart—magical bonds clamping me in place the instant my feet touched the floor—and tilted my hips up.

I cried out as his hard cock bumped over my swollen, needy flesh, cursing the leather and denim that kept his pierced, ridged length from sliding deep.

“Your faith is a treasure beyond counting,” Kynan murmured, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

My clit pulsed at the desire roughening his voice. Arching, I pushed against my bonds, wantonly stropping myself against him like a cat in heat. That was all very sweet, and I’d think about it at length later, but introspection had slipped several slots down my priorities list, replaced by a siren wail of “FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME!”

“Demanding little thing. Don’t worry. I’m going to give you exactly what you need.” In a single, unforgiving jerk, Kynan dragged my jeans down and plunged two fingers deep. His knuckles ground against my lips as he stroked me, every curl of his fingers in my molten core making a wet, squelching noise.

“Oh, god!”

“Your god can’t help you,cariad bach.” Kynan fell over me, gripping my jaw and shoving the two slippery fingers into my mouth. “You’re at my mercy now.”

With no more warning than that, he thrust, spearing me from both ends.

My scream choked off into a gagging, drooling gurgle. Spit-roasted between his pounding cock and slamming fingers, all I could do was shake.

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