Taming Sugar Page 5

  “Come in.” He waved a hand out, and she stepped past the threshold. “Would you like anything to drink? Juice? Water?”

  “I half expected another expensive bottle of wine to be out chilling.”

  “I only play sober.”

  Oh. Well. That sucked. “Was that a rule you were planning on enforcing on me? Because I don’t believe I agreed to that.”

  Slowly, very slowly, Hunter closed the door. Like a predator considering how to most effectively catch his kill, he prowled toward her until he’d backed her up against the wall.

  “You agreed to come here tonight and behave. Which means you’ll do what I tell you to do.” He braced his palms on the wall on either side of her, those massive arms caging her in. “And I am telling you, we play sober.”

  His size was formidable, his voice stern, but she wasn’t frightened.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then you and that attitude of yours can turn right around and go back to your cabin. Alone.”

  Roxy scowled up at him. She’d been hoping for a little bit of liquid courage, but she wanted him too badly to fight back. And it probably wasn’t the worst idea, to have her wits about her, since she’d never actually done this before.

  “All right. Sober it is.”

  His smirk did things to her. “You’ve got a smart mouth, sugar.” Hunter leaned in, close enough to kiss her, but held himself an inch away. “But I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do with it.”

  He kissed her then, grazed his teeth over her lower lip, all hunger and passion and heat. He covered her mouth with his and pressed her against the wall until his hips made contact with her lower belly. She could feel the thick shape of him through his jeans. Roxy reached around to his back, clawing at his shirt in desperation until he grabbed her hands and pinned her wrists against the wall, lacing their fingers together.

  She tried to tug her hands away, but it was a useless struggle, especially when he kissed a path down her neck. The scratch of his beard on her skin made her back arch clear off the wall.

  “Someone’s a bit of a sensation junkie,” he said with a low laugh. Stepping back, he let one of her hands go and nodded toward the hallway. “We’re going to have fun with that.”

  She pushed off the wall, and it was a good thing he was still holding her other hand because she was as shaky as a debuting ensemble member.

  Following him down the hall, she was led into a large bedroom with all the curtains drawn. What little remained of sunlight slipped in around the edges of the fabric hanging over the windows, barely illuminating the room. There was scarcely enough light for her to make out the edges of a few pieces of furniture, the most visible one being a large bed with an ornate headboard. And sitting on the bed was a long gleaming bar with straps on either end of it, a roll of black tape and a matching, long length of shiny, thick ribbon.

  She grew rigid. Hunter came in behind her, as if he could sense her tension.

  “Nothing in here will hurt you,” he said. “Including me.”

  He found her hips with his palms and drew her back against him. Not suggestively or demandingly, simply holding her in place. Grounding her.

  The strain in her muscles unfurled a fraction. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He was silent for a moment. Hunter’s breath played over her hair. His nearness was intoxicating.

  “You said yesterday this was an itch for you too,” he said. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

  “Not with someone…experienced.” A weakness she had to admit. She was glad he couldn’t see her grimace.

  “But you’ve done enough to know what you like?”

  “I like to come.”

  She punctuated her snark with a small show of boldness—a shimmy of her hips against his. Hunter held her still and said nothing. Waiting for a serious response, she supposed. Roxy sighed and gave him a reluctant shake of her head.

  “I don’t know what I like. Not when it comes to this. I’ve…” Roxy’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t finish the line.

  Hunter waited a beat. When she didn’t continue talking, he prompted, “You’ve?”

  She’d what? Never done this because she thought it was silly, thought it was all an act? Because she’d never found a man willful enough to dominate her? Or because being that vulnerable with another person was the scariest thing she could possibly imagine?

  “I’ve had a hard time opening up. Trusting people.”

  That nugget of truth was the most she was willing to give him.

  Hunter smoothed his hands over her hips, up and down in a move so soothing it was almost hypnotizing. “I can tell. You don’t trust easy, sugar. But you can trust me.”

  She tipped her chin over her shoulder and glared up at him. “How can I be sure?”

  “If you weren’t sure, you wouldn’t have come.”

  Roxy turned away and stared at her toes. She could count the number of people she trusted on one hand—Gio and Rog, her agent, her attorney, and the financial manager who handled her father’s estate. Not a single one of them was, or ever had been, lovers. Maybe that was why she’d never been able to be submissive to anyone—it wasn’t so much the men she’d been with, but her own unwillingness to rely on anyone.

  She didn’t feel that way with Hunter.

  It made no sense. Trusting a relative stranger seemed ridiculous, but he was right. If there’d been a single doubt in her mind, she wouldn’t have let him come over the night before, let alone traipse over here herself in the hopes of whatever pleasures he could bring her.

  His lips found her neck again as one thick arm came around her waist. She lolled her head back on his shoulder.

  “If you’re not sure,” Hunter said. “Tell me now.”

  Roxy paused, not ready to answer. Reaching a hand up to his face, she finally felt the coarse hair on his jaw for herself. She stroked his cheek, palm gliding over the stubble, enjoying the mix of rough bristles and soft skin beneath. Ragged and yielding, his face was him in tangible form. Hunter threw insults at her, but he could be gentle and understanding too.

  He was the first man she’d ever met who was tormentor and protector combined—the first one who was just right.

  “I’m sure,” she said.

  Hunter exhaled a soft breath, a reaction that gave her pause until he licked his way up to her ear.

  “I want you to pick a safeword,” he murmured. “Something you can remember easily if you get uncomfortable or scared.”

  Obviously lyrics from musicals were the easiest to recall, and her favorite musical—Les Misérables—had plenty of words to choose from. Ignoring the memory of herself as a child twirling around in front of her parents and singing Castle on a Cloud, Roxy lifted her chin and said, “Barricade.”

  Hunter nodded, beard tickling her skin as he moved. “All right. You say that, and everything stops. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He hummed in approval. “I didn’t even have to remind you to address me like that.” He kissed her cheek. “Good girl.”

  Roxy flushed and smiled in the darkness. His compliments were like a standing ovation.

  “Now.” He let her go, stepped back and traced one finger down the column of her spine. “Clothes off. All of them.”

  Her hands shaking with excitement, Roxy stripped in the darkness. Shirt. Bottoms. Bra. Panties. Hunter, on the other hand, didn’t move. She glanced back at him.

  “Aren’t you getting undressed too?”

  “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

  “It’s not? Cause, it’s gonna be tough for you to fuck me with all those clothes on.”

  His hands found her hips again. No longer gentle, he yanked her back against him. Her shoulder blades met the smooth fabric of his shirt. Denim rasped along her thighs, the cold bite of his fly making contact with her ass where his erection pressed behind it.

  “Who said I was going to fuck you?” He pressed his hips forward
with the question, several slow pumps that made her nipples tighten to painful points. “I don’t remember saying I was going to do that.”

  Roxy growled at the tease. She wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted a man this much.

  She reached around and tried to unzip him, but Hunter seized her elbows with a firm grip. She whined and squirmed, trying to break free. “But I want touch you.”

  “Patience,” he hissed as he held her arms even tighter, rendering her helpless. She had no idea how to process the mix of frustration and relief the feeling gave her, but Christ, she liked it. “You have one job while you’re in this room, and that’s to do what I say. You’ll touch me when I’m ready for you to, and you’re damn straight I’m going to fuck you, but not yet. Right now I want you on the bed.”

  He released her, and Roxy scampered forward in the dim room, not able to see anything more than the edges of the bed now that the sun had mostly set. She climbed up and knelt on it, waiting for Hunter’s next order.

  “On your back,” he told her. “Knees up. Legs apart.”

  Roxy moved into position. With her legs wide open, she was all too aware of how exposed she was, but anticipation washed away her unease. She watched him move toward her, felt his hands on her feet, then heard the rip of Velcro opening as he fastened the straps around each of her ankles.

  “This is a spreader bar,” he said. “I have another one I can use to hold your hands in place, but I’d rather you simply obey and keep them where I tell you to.”

  “And where’s that?”

  He moved in beside her. Drawing her hands up one at a time, he brought them to rest on the pillow by her head, palms up.

  “Here. Are you capable of that?” he asked with a smirk. “Or is that too difficult an instruction for you to follow?”

  Her face burned, but she smiled too. She didn’t know what it was about the way he edged insults under her skin that made her so hot, or why was she willing to take from him what she usually dished out to others, but right now? Roxy didn’t care. All she cared about was how soon he was going to touch her.

  “No, Sir. It’s not.”

  Her tone was snarky, but Hunter didn’t seem to care. “Good. Move them, and there will be consequences.”

  “Is that what the ribbon and the tape are for?” she asked. “My consequences?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll run that silky soft fabric along your clit. Or maybe I’ll slap the tape over that pretty mouth the next time you act bratty.”

  A thrill went through her. Not only from the idea of him silencing her, but from the hungry look in his eyes.

  “For now, though, I want your mouth open.” He brought a hand to her face, middle finger poised over her lips. “Lick.”

  She both loved and hated the command, but the thought of turning him on made her stomach tighten with desire, so Roxy went to work. A few quick passes of her tongue over the tip of his finger. One long lap from the base upward. She tilted her chin, curving her body with the move, and took his entire finger into her mouth.

  Even in the darkness, she caught his eyes blazing when she sucked all the way down.

  He added another finger, bringing his pointer finger to join the middle. In and out, he fucked her mouth with them, and Roxy moaned. It had been far too long since the last time she was well and truly fucked, and her hips lifted with each plunge of his fingers in her mouth, the phantom thrusts she wasn’t feeling between her legs making her throb. With the spreader bar forcing her open, she could feel how wet she was, how achingly empty. She whined around his fingers in desperation. She didn’t just want him to touch her. She needed it.

  Hunter clucked his tongue at her and pulled his fingers free. “You can’t stand having to wait for anything, can you?”

  Frustration and anger at that condescending tone fire through her. Roxy bared her teeth at him, growling like a chained animal. It had no effect. Hunter simply laughed, then dragged his saliva-slicked fingers between her breasts and down to her lower belly. One inch at a time, he made her wait, until he finally, finally, stroked over her clit.

  One quick circle, and he moved his hand away. A dull throb pulsed in its wake.

  Roxy panted and glowered. Hunter smiled and did it again.

  “Shit,” she grunted, feeling both the echo of pleasure and the immediate agony of its absence.

  “Shit?” He raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you don’t like this?”

  “No…I just…fuck!” He caressed her again, two circles this time. Her entire lower body clenched when he took his hand away. “I like it. A lot. Keep doing it, damn it.”

  He didn’t move. “Rephrase that.”

  “Keep doing it, damn it, Sir.”

  “Try again,” he snarled. “Or did you forget what this was supposed to be a lesson in?”

  Fear shivered through her, but Roxy was too pent up to care. “I don’t give a damn about your lessons in patience. I want you to stop stopping.”

  Amusement turned up the edges of his lips. “No.”

  He lowered his hand. Despite his refusal, Roxy thought she’d finally gotten her way when he slid a finger inside her. She grinned in victory even as a guttural moan escaped her. ‘No,’ her ass. This was even better than what he was doing before.

  She tried to widen her legs, to take in more, urge him deeper, but the bar kept her in place. After a minute of stroking her, he drew his finger out, and Roxy’s unsatisfied groan sounded like a howl.

  “What the fuck?” She twisted on the bed, trying to lift her hips to where his hand hovered, but Hunter used his other hand to push her down. Easily spanning her lower belly with the wingspan of his fingers, he pinned her to the bed.

  “Did you think I was kidding when I said no?” He applied a little more pressure, and the ache it created was exquisite and awful all at once. “I can see how badly you want it. The proof of it is drenching my fucking bed.”

  An embarrassed flush stole across her cheeks. He was right, the bed was positively soaked beneath her. Roxy grimaced and turned away, but Hunter wasn’t having it. He grabbed her face with the same hand that had been touching her, smearing her own wetness over her face.

  “You will learn to wait, you insolent little brat.”

  His sneer and harsh words made her want to hide and beg for more at the same time. It was too much to process, and her mind blanked out anyway when he released her face and resumed his torture, adding a second finger, then a third. Roxy cried out and dug her head back against the pillow. Pumping slowly in and out, he built her up until she was shaking, then slid his fingers free, leaving her whimpering once again. He kept at it for ages, and when she was sure she was going to die from the tease, he moved back to her clit. Repeating the same pattern from before, he increased the strokes, then eased back, keeping her on the edge of orgasm, but never letting her achieve it.

  The next time he moved his hand away, Roxy was unable to stand it a second longer. She knew this was supposed to be an exercise in patience, but there was only so much she could take. She reached up and grabbed him by the wrist.

  “Fucking make me come already,” she demanded.

  Roxy had only a second to see the anger flare in his eyes before Hunter snapped his other hand around hers. With a swiftness she hadn’t expected, he dragged both her hands over her head, easily holding them there in a brutal grip. Her body was so over sensitized she barely noticed the pain, her clit still swollen and needy, but the desire to come faded as his upper lip curled up in a sneer.

  “You don’t make the demands here,” he rasped.

  Demand what you want out of life, Roxy.

  Her father’s words swelled in her head, and Roxy was about to tell Hunter Finn exactly what she’d be demanding of the next man who crossed her path when he cut her off.

  “Your job was to do as you were told—it was the only thing you needed to do—and you couldn’t even do that. Maybe you really are an impatient, spoiled little rich princess.”

  The
bitterness in his statement hit hard. She blinked back tears and lowered her chin, unable to fight the sick, sinking feeling in her gut.

  Grabbing the ribbon with his free hand, Hunter reached over her head.

  “The consequences,” he began, his voice low with warning. “Will include you thinking about that.”

  She should’ve wrestled with him for her freedom, should’ve spoken up and told him off, but her fight or flight was temporarily offline. Roxy was rendered helpless as he moved. Hunter’s hands were out of her line of sight, but she could feel him securing her wrists next to one another and fastening the ribbon together. He lifted the tape from the bed next, and yanked a piece off with his teeth. Roxy’s breathing grew shallow as he shored up whatever knot he’d made with the tape, then unbound her ankles from the spreader bar.

  “Up,” he ordered, moving away from her to snap on a light.

  One bedside lamp lit the room, and Roxy could now see the exposed beams that ran the length of the ceiling. As well as the pulley that hung from the beam above the bed.

  He slapped her thigh. Hard. “I said, up.”

  The pain seared. She was pretty sure his handprint had been left behind on her skin. Wanting to prove to someone she damn well could do as she was told, Roxy clumsily came to a sitting position, her bound hands in front of her.

  “On your knees,” he barked. “Eyes on the bed.”

  She moved into position and kept her gaze obediently lowered. Ribbon spilled from her hands down over the blanket, sheer black crossing white cotton and the damp spot she’d left behind. Roxy’s cheeks felt like flame. No man had ever gotten her so turned on that she’d drenched the bed.

  Hoping he’d get through whatever these consequences were quickly so they could get back to business, Roxy kept still. She couldn’t see what Hunter was doing, only sensed the bed compressing as he moved around, heard the clink of the spreader bar against something else metal and the squeaking sound of something moving. The pulley?

  Her heart began flying too fast, her breathing too shallow. Her safe word pressed at her lips, but—

  Don’t show weakness, Roxy.