Mardi Gras by Lacey Alexander (win 10 ebook reader .TXT) 📗

and shoving them down, so that she stood before him in a lacy coral-colored bra and matching panties.

“Ty, what are you doing?” she asked, breathless.

He stepped up close enough that she could feel his erection pressing into the front of her undies, and spoke low and firm. “I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine, Mistress Mina. I’m gonna find out how you like being used for kinky sex.” She drew in her breath, both frightened and thrilled. She had no idea what Ty might do to her, and she’d definitely never seen him this angry or determined-looking, but she also couldn’t imagine anything he could do to her that wouldn’t excite her right now.

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They stood looking at each other, the air filled with hot tension until he closed both hands hard on her ass and pulled her to him for a rough kiss that left her breathless. She twined her arms around his neck as he moved one hand to her breast for a brutal caress that filled her with more wet pleasure than she could have anticipated.

Still crushing her to him, he yanked one bra strap off her shoulder, baring her nipple, then possessively lifted it to his mouth. He sucked hard, making her whimper at the pleasure-pain of it. Even while it hurt, she’d never felt anything so powerful or intense, and it swept her away in a rush of hot desire. “Mmm, God,” she murmured.

Then his hands were at the back of her bra, deftly unhooking it. “Take it off, all the way. I haven’t seen your breasts without anything on them or around them,” he said in that same commanding voice.

She shrugged free of the bra, then stood beneath his scrutiny, her breasts achy and tingling under his gaze. He cupped them both in his large hands, as if testing the weight, then began to knead them, hot and vigorous. Heated, thready sighs left her until he urgently lowered his mouth to the other breast, suckling hard again. The sensation shot through her like licks of flame. She cried out, grabbing onto him for balance, and he gripped her ass once more, this time lifting her up into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom.

He tossed her on the bed and she lay there, aroused and unsure, waiting until he returned with the bag he’d brought.

The first thing he drew out was a long, black strip of leather. Straddling her in the bed, he pushed her arms up over her head and tied her wrists with it, pulling the leather into a tight knot. Then he attached it to the wrought iron headboard. She remained wildly aware how close his cock was—to her mouth, her breasts—and she wished madly that he were naked. But she dared not say a word.

Backing off of her, he said, “Lift your ass,” then harshly pulled down her panties.

He tossed them aside as he rose from the bed and reached into his bag, extracting…something black, a large swath of leather, but she wasn’t sure what it was 94

Mardi Gras

until he said, “Lift,” again, and this time slid it under her. He drew it around her waist and began to lace it by hand. It stretched from her rib cage to her hips and she realized it was a waist-cincher, an item that struck her as somewhat Victorian and completely wicked in terms of bondage—especially when he laced it tight, tight, tight, making her feel utterly imprisoned in the thing before finally finishing.

Next he withdrew a thick, black leather collar from the bag, which he fastened around her neck. Like the waist-cincher, it made her feel pleasantly trapped, forcing sensation on her with each and every move she made.

And then he left. Just left the room—picked up his bag and walked out!

Minutes began to pass and she wondered if he’d departed from the apartment completely and meant to leave her here like this, trussed naked except for a bit of black leather, until she called out for help and someone found her. God, talk about payback.

And on top of that, her pussy wept for him. She could feel the comforter dampening beneath her. She’d been a little frightened and totally unsure what would happen to them once this was over, but from the moment he’d shown up at her door, she’d been aroused and ready for whatever this evening held, for whatever he wanted it to hold. If he wanted to punish her, she figured she deserved it. She’d take whatever he dished out.

Just when she’d seriously begun to worry that maybe he’d left her like this, he tramped back into the room—no longer a lighthearted beach boy, but now clearly a god of all that was dark and dangerous.

She gasped at the sight of him, and her cunt spasmed. Across his chest he wore a black halter-like apparatus constructed of thin leather strips connected by silver rings.

His eyes still shone through his sexy black mask, and now his neck was adorned with the same sort of collar she wore. Thick leather cuffs circled both wrists, and below, he’d donned black leather pants—with no crotch. His big cock stood at full attention between the leather leggings, completely exposed. She was stunned speechless. And so 95

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damn hungry for him. To think this man had wanted to be tied up—when he was clearly born to be a woman’s master.

As he stood looking at her, tied to the bed in her scant leather regalia, she felt a whole new kind of beautiful, and she relished submitting to him. She still feared for tomorrow and the future of their relationship, but for tonight, she was going to soak up every bit of domination he wanted to heap on her.

“Are you ready to be my sex slave, Mia?” he asked sharply.

She nodded, answering with one quiet word. “Yes.” So very ready.

He walked to the bed and straddled her again, but higher up this time, his thighs settling across her shoulders, the black