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  She was looking at him with those big eyes.

  “You know, with those enormous, innocent eyes of yours, you’ll make the perfect little schoolgirl. Hmmm, maybe I’ll have to come up with some virtuous personas just for you, for when we play.”

  Paul gazed at his lovely girl while she fought the smile that was curving the corners of her lips. And he thought of helpless, wet-behind-the-ears characters while he drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

  “Aha,” he exclaimed as he thought of a brilliant idea. She jumped at his exclamation and he chuckled. “Little Red Riding Hood,” he volunteered.

  “And you can be—Grandma?” she lobbed back so very innocently. Although the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away.

  “Cheeky wench.” If she were standing, he would have swatted her ass. “No, I’m the wolf. The big. Bad. Wolf.” He bared his teeth at her and she giggled. God, he loved it when she did that.

  “Gretel,” she offered. “And you can be the wicked witch.”

  “Jesus, what is it with you, trying to get me into the female roles? I might get a complex.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, I think you’re pretty secure in your masculinity, you big alpha male, you.”

  He laughed. “Damn straight, woman. By the way, I think I’d rather be Hansel, Gretel’s devious, incestuous brother, and I’ll fuck you on top of the oven while witchy poo watches.”

  “You sick, twisted man.”

  “Like I said before—damn straight, woman.”

  She giggled hysterically. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

  “Oh I know,” she blurted out. “I can be Snow White.”

  Paul slapped his hand on the tabletop. “Yes, that’s perfect, sweetheart. With your looks, you’re a shoe-in for ol’ Snowy. And before you say it, I will not be the damn queen in that scenario either.”

  She exaggerated a pout. “What then? You’re going to be all seven dwarves?” she challenged with a raised eyebrow.

  He leered at her. “You doubt my abilities? Anyway, three of them are Sleepy, Dopey and Bashful. They’d be as boring as batshit. But Happy, yeah, I could play Happy.” Happy to be fucking you, little Snowy. “Now, Doc…hmmm, endless possibilities there, my darlin’. I’m thinkin’ an examination table, a nice set of stirrups and some medical equipment.” Caitlin’s eyes opened wide, probably wondering if he was joking or not. He wasn’t usually into medical stuff but hey, he wasn’t averse to trying something new, especially considering her reaction. Evil bastard that he was.

  He loved teasing her, he realized. She had such honest, open responses.

  He tried not to smile and spoil it. He tapped his chin. “Ah, and then we have Sneezy. I think maybe we can work something out there. Some different types of body fluids perhaps…?”

  “Paul!” she squealed. And he couldn’t help it, he blurted out a laugh.

  “You’re terrible,” she said indignantly and then dissolved into a little puddle of laughter.

  Paul stood up and lifted Caitlin bodily from her chair. She yelped and threw her arms around his neck, grabbing on to him for dear life.

  “Come on, Snowy,” he growled in a deep voice. “It’s high time I got some body fluids all over you.”

  She made a little scream and then snorted and laughed hysterically against his chest as he carried her to the living room sofa, where he dumped her and stood looking down at her in his most intimidating fashion. Except for the fact that he was laughing his guts out, he would have been damn intimidating, he thought.

  As he gazed at her, sprawled haphazardly on the sofa, laughing and wiping tears from her eyes, he felt that pang in his chest. He had another physical discomfort as well, to go with the one in his chest. God, it was going to be difficult. He wanted her so damn much.

  Her laughter was like music to his ears. He was so happy that fucktard Ivan hadn’t broken this gorgeous girl’s spirit. She looked so fragile and innocent, but she must have a core of steel to have gone through what she did and not come out a hollow shell of a person. He loved the way she was relaxing and coming out of herself, joking with him, even giving him the evil eye and sparring with him. She would have to work on the eye-aversion business. She was still shy about some things. Verbalizing stuff was a bit of a challenge for her. He would help her with that. She blushed like a twelve-year-old maiden and he loved that, and hoped she’d never lose that endearing trait.

  He wondered if that little defiant spark would come out of her the more confident she became. He would catch a glimpse of it every now and again; that flash in her eyes. It was going to be fun dominating her. So much fucking fun.

  He smiled evilly and fell on her and kissed her until they were both breathless.

  While she drew in great shuddering gulps of air, he lavished kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her chin and eyelids. He brushed his lips along her eyelashes. He nibbled along her eyebrows and at the corners of her mouth.

  Then, because he started experiencing such overwhelmingly tender feelings that made his eyes suspiciously wet and had him almost blurting out that he wanted to worship her until the end of time, he sucked and bit the tip of her nose until she started to laugh again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caitlin was dreading going to Paul’s apartment. It was Friday night and he’d given her more instructions to follow, just as he’d done for the past two weeks. Two long, incredibly wondrous and mind-bendingly frustrating weeks. Paul had her so turned-on that the previous day—much to her shame—she’d entertained serious thoughts of climbing him and dry humping his leg like a bad little dog.

  He’d spent hours each day tying her in his intricate Shibari bonds and suspending her in strange, evocative positions. Now when he came at her with a piece of rope in his hands, she immediately felt the gush of wetness from her core and knew he could see it when he spread her open to tie his ropes around her. It made her blush as deep a color as the ropes he sometimes used.

  The closeness of his body as he worked, the way he leaned over her, his flesh brushing against hers, and the way his fingers trailed over her skin as he literally tied her in knots drove her wild. And she could do nothing but stay perfectly still and let him bind her.

  He had taken her camping the previous weekend. It was the first time in her life anyone had taken her camping. He got her to do things she’d never done before, like wandering around in the woods blindfolded. She told him she was afraid of being eaten by a bear. He told her it was more likely that she’d bump into a tree than a bear. But of course he didn’t let her bump into anything, or get eaten by anything—bear or otherwise. He was always there, reaching out a hand to help her and guide her in the right direction.

  He carried her on his back across a narrow river on a bridge of sorts that was comprised of two flat planks side by side with no railing. The planks were very high above the water. She had spent almost the whole trip over and back with her eyes squeezed shut and her face pressed firmly against the side of his neck, struggling not to scream in his ear the entire way.

  She knew what he was doing, of course; he was working on getting her to trust him. And she did. She did trust him. More than she’d ever trusted anybody in her whole life.

  They’d spent hours talking and getting to know all about each other. Sometimes it was serious, sometimes fun and teasing.

  He’d laughed at all the outfits and matching shoes she took camping. She’d argued that she had no experience in the great outdoors and besides that, she’d warned him she was a girly-girl who loved to dress up. She’d spent most of her life wearing a school uniform. Her father rarely bothered to buy her other clothes because she never went anywhere. Caitlin had always dreamed of having pretty dresses like her friends. She would spend hours with a sketchpad, designing clothes she would wear if she had the chance. And now, as she had explained to Paul, she was making up for lost time.

  He asked her how she felt about lingerie. She said she liked it. He said he might reconsider the naked-at-home-all-the-time thing
, maybe in favor of some lingerie of his choosing. He’d rubbed his chin and mumbled about panties with good access.

  He admitted that he loved her shoes, and with a gleam in his eye, said he’d think about lingerie and fuck-me shoes as appropriate playtime attire.

  They talked about their interests and hobbies and more about their childhoods. Being surrounded by a warm, loving family, Paul’s childhood sounded beautiful to Caitlin. And she thought that was the kind of life she would want for her own child. Then she wondered where that thought had come from, never having considered the possibility of a child of her own before.

  She loved the story Paul told her of how he would steal his sisters’ dolls and tie them up using ribbons or string and suspend them from things. His sisters thought he was being mean when they would find their dolls hanging from trees. But he said he just loved tying things up even before he knew there was anything sexual about it.

  She imagined a young blond-headed boy with guileless, bright eyes, the same concentration on his face Paul always had when he bound her, sitting in his tree house, binding his sisters’ dolls.

  She told him he must have been the cutest little pervert ever. He smacked her bottom and told her she was a cheeky wench. She suspected he would use any excuse to give her a slap on her ass.

  They talked about birth control (she was already on it). They talked about what Paul said people in the biz called fluid bonding (she had never heard of it). She asked him if he was talking about Mr. Sneezy again and suggested he might be getting fixated on that particular subject. She got another couple of playful swats on her ass and was informed it had to do with having sex without condoms.

  She confirmed her theory regarding the ass slapping.

  They discussed their respective sexual histories. Even though her relationship with Ivan had been monogamous, he had made her get tested regularly. She had the paperwork showing she was clean.

  Paul told her he had never had sex without protection and expressed a desire to have unprotected sex with Caitlin. What he actually said was that he wanted to fuck her with nothing between them so he could feel her. Feel her skin sliding against his, feel how hot and wet she was and feel her slick channel gripping him when she came. He said he longed to come when he was buried deep in her womb. He wanted her to feel it when his hot seed spurted out of him and into her.

  After a great deal of clenching and panting, Caitlin agreed she wanted that too. Badly. Paul admonished her, albeit gently, that she should never just accept a man’s word about whether he was safe. He later produced test results for her perusal.

  Now Caitlin stood, finger poised over the bell outside the door of Paul’s apartment. All she wore was her trench coat and the few items Paul had sent her this evening. The items consisted of red lace thong panties, a red choker-style necklace and a pair of high-heeled sandals with red velvet ballerina-style straps that crisscrossed up her leg almost to her knees.

  She took a deep breath and pushed the buzzer. Her fingers were trembling and she fisted her hands by her sides. She was longing to see Paul, the faint tremors in her body born of anticipation. But she was also afraid. Afraid of her response to this man. It was too much and she wasn’t sure how long she could contain it. Sometimes her need for him was so great that she wanted to scream and cry and crawl right out of her own skin. Caitlin thought if Paul didn’t fuck her very soon, she would go mad. Stark-raving-lunatic type stuff.

  All of a sudden, Caitlin had the strong urge to just turn around and run in the opposite direction. These feelings scared her, overwhelmed her, and if Paul spent tonight tying her up without any other sexual contact, Caitlin wasn’t sure she could cope anymore.

  She had half turned when she heard his voice. The deep, gruff tone made her shiver and had her eyes closing involuntarily. She froze.

  “You goin’ somewhere, baby girl?”

  Caitlin slowly turned back toward Paul. She tried to ease out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, but it came out ragged.

  His finger came up under her chin, tilting her head back. He stepped closer, so close, his penetrating eyes deeply searching hers. His eyebrows were furrowed with concern. He was so beautiful, so very beautiful and dear to her that she felt she could weep. The repressed tears prickled behind her eyes.

  And he smelled so good, of soap and shampoo—and Paul. She inhaled deeply, savoring his scent. His hair was damp, the ends curling a little at his shoulders. Caitlin’s eyes traced over his bare shoulders, his chest and down his taut stomach, following the trail of crisp hair that disappeared into the pair of old, faded jeans that were not quite buttoned all the way to the top.

  She felt the overwhelming urge to drop to her knees and free him from the worn denim that did nothing to hide the evidence of his arousal. She wanted to take him, every hot, hard inch of him into her mouth and worship him, worship his body.

  Her eyes trailed slowly back up his body, noting every sculpted muscle, every hollow, the deep rising and falling of his chest, the muscle twitching in his tightly clenched jaw, until she met his eyes.

  Those eyes were burning with such a violent kind of hunger that it shocked her. She immediately responded to that hunger and every single muscle in her body contracted so acutely, she thought she would pass out.

  Paul’s fingers brushed gently along her jawline. “Tell me, baby girl. What’s wrong?” His tone was patient and gentle, belying the animalistic passion in his dark, hungry gaze. His voice trembled though, with the effort of leashing that passion.

  “It’s just that…I need you, s-so bad.” Caitlin’s voice was a whisper. She closed her eyes for a moment and when they opened, she looked at the floor. “I’m afraid of the feelings I have for you. I don’t know how much more I can take. I just… I need you.” The last words were a broken plea. Her eyes closed again as she struggled to contain the feelings.

  Paul embraced her then and she threw her arms around him, holding him tight and burrowing her head against his chest.

  “I know, baby girl,” he said in a ragged whisper against the top of her head. “I know.”

  Paul pulled Caitlin into his apartment and closed the door. The tumult of emotions that assaulted him had him feeling confused and a little out of control, as if he had reached the summit on a roller coaster and was beginning that free-fall descent.

  He had laid out elaborate plans for Caitlin tonight. He wasn’t convinced he had her where he needed her to be before they attempted sex again. But watching her standing there, pouring out her heart to him… I’m afraid of the feelings I have for you. I need you so bad. Good god, he wanted her. He wanted to throw her down and push himself into her, bury himself deeply and just forget everything. Forget all his perfectly thought-out plans and logic and just lose himself in her.

  He wanted to yell out in triumph that she had expressed her need. She had said she didn’t know how much more she could take. He had pondered that same question over and over during the past two weeks while he’d endured the most terrible torture he could imagine. Being so close to Caitlin, touching her, binding her, having her carry out his instructions, and not having sex with her? Fucking. Excruciating. And he wasn’t a masochist, so excruciating wasn’t exactly his bowl of grits.

  Sometimes his longing for her was so great it was a debilitating kind of need that almost brought him to his knees.

  His mind flashed back to their weekend camping in the woods. Such a gorgeous girly-girl with her tiny, totally-inappropriate-for-camping, pink velour shorts and matching hoodie. And the pink sneakers with diamantes on them. He’d teased her about it, but secretly he loved it. So pretty and feminine. And she had been so out of her element in the woods. Frightened of bears but letting him blindfold her and then bravely finding her way through the trees, putting her trust in him to ensure her safety. Her trust humbled him.

  He’d watched the concentration in her face as she’d listened to his instructions on how to bait a hook and cast a line. He smiled at her furrowed bro
w and the way she bit her bottom lip every time she cast out. He shook his head at her stubborn determination to stay in the cold waist-deep water until she caught a fish. When she finally did, she squealed with such delight, she reminded him of a little kid at Christmas. He felt so much for her at that moment that he hauled her out of the water, fish and all, and kissed her shivering lips until she was breathless.

  With an intensely painful rush of blood to his cock, he remembered one particular night in the woods. The inky blackness pushed around them, just a small circle of safety near the campfire. His woman naked, bound to a tree in an intricate web of ropes. The flickering firelight subtly illuminating her gorgeous body. No more little girly-girl. All woman, lush and ripe. Moaning and bound and helpless. At his mercy.

  “Fuck the plans,” growled Paul as he lifted Caitlin in his arms and carried her upstairs to his bed.

  When he reached his destination, he laid Caitlin on the quilt then swept the implements of tonight’s aborted plans off the bed. The coils of red rope went flying as the waterproof sheet slid to the floor. The room was filled with lit candles. They could stay and provide ambience instead of being used for their intended purpose—which was to drizzle Caitlin’s flawless skin with hot wax.

  He untied the belt of her coat. With shaking fingers, he undid the buttons and pushed the coat open.

  He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Fuck,” he whispered.

  God, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. Every man’s wet dream. So fucking delicious, he could just eat her up. And he wanted to, he wanted to fucking devour her.

  She lay looking up at him, the red choker snug around the long, graceful arch of her neck, the lace panties a tiny wisp of red tantalizing him from between her thighs. And those shoes—their ribbons wrapped and crossed around and around her slim ankles all the way up her calves. The rest of her exposed. Her perfect skin slightly flushed. Her breasts heaving with each breath. Her nipples already contracted and pebbled, demanding his attention.