She didn't move. Hardly dared breathe. “What do you want?” she whispered. “You know.” His fingertips slipped under her damp hair to lightly stroke the back of her neck. She shivered and closed her eyes. His warm breath curled into her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, drawing him in. He said, “Open your eyes.” She did. His dark gaze reached deep into her. “What do you want?” he asked. I want. I want. She knew how to answer I should. I must. The occasional I need. Kay Denehy had never been an I want kind of girl. But she wanted now. The wanting squirmed over her skin from her scalp to her toes. It gathered heavily in her breasts and between her legs. “I'm scared,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “I know. You don't do this kind of thing.” She shook her head. “But you will now. With me.” It wasn't a question. “Let’s get the voir dire out of the way. I’m not harboring any unsavory diseases. I’m guessing the same is true of you.” He waited for her to nod, then added, “Do I need to use a rubber?” “No, I’m…I’m on the Pill.” She couldn’t believe she was having this discussion with a complete stranger. He cupped the back of her neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips warm and firm. “You can leave at any time. I won't stop you.” What a strange thing to say, she thought, as a knot of trepidation settled in her gut. He sat back and looked her over. With one hand he gathered her T-shirt at the waist. He twisted it in his fist, tugging to stretch the material tight over her breasts. Her nipples prickled. He stared. Boldly, unapologetically. When his other hand came up, she thought he was going to caress her. Instead he ripped the material away from the neckband, exposing one breast. Kay flinched, her pulse thunderous in her ears. How could she have thought his eyes kind? she wondered, staring at him. She could boil in those eyes. His movements were leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world to enjoy her. He tugged on her hair, pulling her head back over the rolled arm of the sofa. His other hand slid under her back to lift her, sharply bowed, like some pagan offering. She couldn't see him, could only stare at the ceiling as his scalding mouth closed over her nipple. She jerked and cried out. He suckled her hard, while she writhed and bucked as if to pitch him off her. Her hands clawed at his shoulders, his flesh hard and unyielding under the soft waffle-knit shirt. Finally he lifted his head, and hers. “Tear the rest of it.” “Wh-what?” “The shirt. Rip the other side.” As if she were a detached observer, she watched her hand grab hold of the material still attached to the neckband. She pulled, but it refused to come free. He watched patiently. She brought her other hand up and, using both, managed to tear it. He said, “Good.” Lying before this stranger fully dressed but with her breasts flagrantly bare, Kay felt a surge of alarm. What was she doing? She'd never done anything like this in her life. She'd never even imagined it. You're doing what you promised yourself, the small, brave part of her returned. Taking risks, living life. She just hadn't known it would be so scary. I want…I want… I want this man to make love to me. I want him to keep looking at me this way. With an intensity that both frightened and inflamed her. He pulled her to a sitting position and drew her arms up to link her hands behind her head. She felt her breasts lift, felt strands of hair tangle in her trembling fingers. He sat back and studied her—her form, her expression, and, she suspected, her level of compliance. “Very nice,” he said at last. Rising, he pushed the coffee table well away from the sofa. “Stand up.” She did, dropping her hands to her sides. He replaced them behind her head and gave them a little squeeze, a wordless reprimand. She said, “How—“ “Don't speak. Unless I ask you a question.” His tone was dispassionate. “You may make other sounds if you can't help yourself, but no words. And don't move when I've positioned you as I want you.” Kay was torn between outrage and curiosity. Between her self-protective instincts and her burgeoning arousal. I can leave anytime, she reminded herself. He won't stop me. He watched her face, watched the clash of conflicting emotions she couldn't hope to conceal. Finally he said, "Take off the pants."
Excerpt Two from: BINDING AGREEMENT
Copyright � 2009 PAM McKENNA. All rights reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. Purchase e-book
He tipped her face and kissed her. This kiss was serious. It was deep. His fingers pushed through her hair and held her while he claimed her with his mouth. He demanded entrance and she opened to him, taking him in, welcoming his thrusting tongue like a stamp of possession. She found it hard to sit still on his lap even before his free hand found her breast. His thumb stroked her burning nipple and she moaned into his mouth, dizzy with the novel, searing pleasure of it. He raised his head at last and locked on to her eyes, his blue-fire gaze as mesmerizing as a wolf’s. His color was high, his nostrils flared. Those predatory eyes scanned the room, homing in on the kidney-shaped slab of glass that was his desktop. He rose from the chair, setting her on her feet. “Clear all that crap off the desk.” Even as he spoke he yanked off his waffle-knit shirt and tossed it to the floor. She hurried to obey, lifting his laptop and looking around for a suitable place to put it. “Anywhere, goddammit.” He kicked off his deck shoes and unzipped his jeans. She moved the computer to the credenza. By the time she’d relocated the folders, yellow legal pads, pens and assorted sticky notes, John was as naked as she. Despite the uninhibited intimacies she’d experienced with this man, this was Kay’s first glimpse of his unclothed body—well, except for earlier on the beach, but she’d been too startled and frightened then to appreciate the moonlit view. If this wasn’t pure masculine perfection standing before her, she didn’t know what was. She’d already seen him plow through ocean chop as if it were a backyard pool. Based on the impressive muscle definition in his tall, tanned body, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was a triathlete. And that erection. She’d known he was big, had never experienced anything like the blue-ribbon cock that had filled her earlier. Still, the sight of that rigid war club rising stiff and proud from its nest of dark curls was a revelation. A drop of pre-come glistened on the tip as he fisted his fingers around the base and slowly stroked upward. His voice was rough and impatient as he said, “Come here.” He shoved the chair away from the inward-curving edge of the desk. “On your knees.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, making her kneel on the plush area rug where the chair had been, her back to the desk. “You know what to do,” he said, and she did, though her experience with oral sex was limited to the basics and she feared she was about to disappoint him. She wanted this, though, awed by the depth of her desire to take him into her mouth, to taste him and suck him and give him this singular brand of pleasure. Her pussy pulsed in anticipation as the broad head of his penis parted her lips and pushed inside. Right away John seemed to sense her lack of experience. He scaled down the depth and pacing of his thrusts, though she could tell the effort cost him—he was near the limit of his self-control. Patiently he guided her movements, murmuring instructions and the occasional word of praise. His cock swelled to even more majestic proportions as he taught her how to open her throat and take him deeper, how to work her tongue as she sucked him. Kay mentally prepared herself to swallow his come—something she’d never in her life done. But she wanted to now. She was drunk on the taste of him, on his slippery hardness pistoning between her lips, and she wanted more. Needed more. But he needed something else. He relinquished her mouth and impatiently lifted her off the rug and onto the cold slab of glass. He pushed her to lie flat, seeming not to notice or care that her head hung off the far edge. She felt a moment’s panic not being able to see him—the full moon dominated her field of view, framed by the expansive windows. He lifted her knees, spreading them wide. “Hold your legs,” he said, and she obeyed, hooking her hands behind her thighs while her heart pinballed around her rib cage.
Lucas’s silver-gray eyes turned smoky as he took in Kay’s shivering form. He gestured to her. “Come here, slave.” She looked from Lucas to John, who said, “You will obey these men as you would me. Don’t give me cause to be disappointed in you, Kay.” Wyatt said, “She’s shy.” That pleased him, judging by the silky smile he bestowed on her. Lucas said, “I will not tell you twice.” Kay approached him, still shivering, still looking to John for guidance. Perhaps hoping he’d pull her to him and send these strangers away. Lucas stared at her for a long, charged moment, then said, “Take off your clothes.” When she blushed and started to back up, he added, in that honeyed Brazilian accent, “Such touching modesty. How can I warm you if you keep those wet things on?” That earned a wicked chuckle from Wyatt, who turned to John and stated the obvious. “You’ve never shared her.” John shook his head. “But she’s obedient—she wants to please me. Don’t you, Kay?” “Y-yes, Sir.” Kay’s blazer was open. She shrugged out of it and dropped it to the grass. Her trembling fingers struggled with the buttons of her blouse as the three men patiently watched. Finally the blouse opened and she hesitated a moment before pushing it off her shoulders and letting it slide to the ground. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breasts pushing against the white lace of her demi bra with every agitated breath. Her nipples were fully erect under the sheer fabric, whether from fear or cold or excitement, he couldn’t say—most likely a combination of all three. She started to unbutton the damp skirt, but Wyatt stopped her. “Not yet.” He rose and circled her, admiring the spectacle of John’s beautiful, half-dressed submissive reluctantly preparing herself to be used by other men. Her embarrassment and trepidation seemed to stoke his lust. Wyatt tipped up her chin and studied her expression, her glittering amber eyes, her flared nostrils. He removed his top hat and spun it onto the grass, then wound Kay’s long, blond hair around his gloved fist and jerked her head back. He held her gaze as he dipped his mouth to ravage hers. His cape fell forward to drape them both, and all John saw of her was her pale face and hair. […] John’s cock twitched as he watched her, watched desire flare to life within her, despite her obvious efforts to tamp it down. She shot him an apprehensive look. She thought he’d be angry if she responded sexually to another man—he could see it in her eyes. Then her gaze dropped to John’s hands and what he was doing with them, and her breath caught. His pocketknife was in one hand, a thin tree branch in the other. He was stripping the leaves and bark, turning the branch into a smooth, bare switch. Wyatt grabbed the wooden ladder-back chair he’d recently vacated and spun it around so the back faced John, who wordlessly offered him the switch. Wyatt accepted it, ran his leather-clad fingers along the thin length of wood about a quarter inch wide and two and a half feet long. He bent the switch, testing its springiness. He whipped it through the air and it sang. Kay flinched. She was breathing hard now, clearly struggling to govern her fear and display obedience. Wyatt said simply, “This will do.” Lucas came to his feet, his pale eyes glowing in anticipation as he stood over Kay. “Take that off.” He gestured to her bra. With trembling fingers she reached behind her to release the hooks. She held the garment to her chest for a moment before letting it fall. “The tits are exquisite.” Lucas draped her hair behind her shoulders, the better to admire her breasts, which trembled with her agitation, their pink tips tightly puckered. “Assume Standing Position,” he ordered, and she blinked in confusion. He turned to John. “You haven’t trained your slave.” “I haven’t had time. I’ve only used her the once.” “Like this.” Lucas lifted her hands and linked them behind her neck. He spread her elbows wide. “Open your legs. Chin up.” She obeyed. “This is Standing Position. Remain like this until you are ordered to move.” “Yes Sir,” she whispered. Lucas cupped her breasts in both hands, his attitude one of absolute entitlement. He fondled them, squeezed them, testing their weight and resiliency. Kay’s nervous gaze flashed to John, who stared back impassively. She dropped her eyes. Lucas rolled her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, pinching hard enough to make her wince. He tugged, stretching the tips for a long moment while she held her breath, then released her breasts and watched them bounce. A flush mottled the pale skin of her chest and suffused her face with color. “She’s a treasure,” Lucas told John. “I’m surprised you’re willing to share her.”
