Captivated

The threat… it was a threatit was why he had chosen to treat her this way. Why why why…

Damn him, damn him, damn him She pulled, she raged, she writhed, she moaned…

He moved away because he felt his iron control slipping. He didn't need to touch her. He didn't need to fuck her. He just needed to get out of that room before she understood the power thatshe wielded.

'Not yet.' His voice echoed as he eased out into the hallway, closing the door behind him as an exclamation point to his surrender. 'Not yet,' he groaned, gasping himself as he gave in to his explosive need and shot his boiling lust down his rock-hard leg.

Not yet… as he sank, spent, to the floor.

Sometime during the night, a servant untied her; she wasn't aware of the moment, just of the freedom from constriction, and the ability finally to turn and roll onto her stomach.

Finally. Even though it felt as if the satin bonds were still wound around her wrists. In her dreams, Gerard didn't notice them. In her dreams, he held her, coddled her, protected her…

Sometime in the morning, she became aware of a presence in the room. Not in the bed beside her, but at the foot of the bed, watching her, ever watching her.

Not Gerard…

She moved her body languidly, knowing he was watching, waiting, wondering of whom she was thinking as she stretched.

'Spread your legs.'

She rolled onto her back and extended her long sleek legs outward to show him that this lesson was nothing to her, nothing to learn, nothing to do. But when, during the night of dreamy passion with the evascent Gerard, she had decided this course, she didn't know.

Whatever, it suddenly was easy. So easy.

'Sit up.'

Slowly she raised herself upward, sliding down to the foot of the bed so that she could still splay her legs while she cupped her breasts and lifted them toward him, all the while watching the thickening length between his legs.

'Very good, little fawn. It is time for me to claim you as my own naked wife.'

Her breath caught. Now, now, he would take her and the thing would be done and he'd leave her to her own devices.

He rose up and came toward her, his spurting erection directly in her line of vision, his extended hand holding what looked like a collar with two very long straps appended from it.

'What is this?'

'This is the first thing you will be permitted to wear, my fawn. Your legs go through the straps so that they are positioned just inside your thighs. You are to wear the collar and thongs at all times whether you are dressed or naked as reminder to you who owns you and who will possess you in good time. Put it on.'

She shot him a defiant look and then slowly slipped her legs through the straps, and then stood up, pulling them tightly against her inner thighs, which made her mound more prominent.

'Like that.' He could barely say the words; the sight of those leather straps defining her feminine bush and pushing out her high, pointed breasts sent a lightning bolt of desire to his groin. 'Put the collar around your neck.'

It was a wide, supple leather collar decorated with golden studs and a hook closure. She locked it, and he gestured for her to move away from him so that he could examine her minutely.

It was perfect, the thin leather straps taut against her pale skin, conspicuously outlining her sex and her breasts, and culminating in the symbol of his owning her: the thrall collar.

'Evie!'

Evie slipped into the room.

'Lock it.'

Evie came up behind her, and a moment later, Drue heard the almost noiseless click of a lock; she heard him groan, she saw his body convulse before he mastered his sex, and she reached back and touched a tiny padlock, the key to which Evie gave him before she exited the room.

The vision of her collared and strapped to his specification aroused him unbearably: she could see that he was not fully in command of his wayward penis.It wanted her. It flexed and stretched and elongated and thickened almost as if it were enticing her as she sashayed around him, letting him view her from every angle.

He particularly liked the way the straps crossed her buttocks and disappeared invitingly into her crease, and then reappeared to tightly confine her femininity.

His penis liked it, too; he couldn't clamp down hard enough on his erection to contain the spurt of juice that stained the material of his trousers.

'On the collar is the seal of the Summervilles,wife, so that everyone will know that you are my possession.'

'Take me then; everyone thinks you have already.'

'Indeed. And only you and I know that I am exerting heroic control in not plowing you until you have been taughtevery lesson.'

'I've learned your lessons,' she protested. 'I wear your thrall collar. I'm ready for your possession.'

'No.I'm bursting to possessyou, but you are not nearly ready for me. Come.' He rose up from the chair, his erection bone hard in front of him. 'We go downstairs for breakfast today.'

'I'

'Naked. Just as you are.'

'The servants' she murmured faintly.

'Naked,' he said inflexibly, holding open the door.

'If anyone sees me' she protested.

'He'll just have to control his lust for you.'

'How can he, if you can't?' she retorted.

He looked down at his throbbing manhood. 'An aberration. It'll go away.'

But it didn't. It never went away all the time they ate breakfast; her mouth went dry every time she looked at his erection, imagining the breadth and thickness, the mystery of him.

But then, her nipples kept reacting to the heat of his gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off them and they kept tightening and tightening and her body felt creamier and creamier just from the touch of his burning eyes.

And he knew it. He made her sit across from him with her legs splayed while they ate, and all of it, her nakedness, his lust, her feeling of being captive and contained, the leather straps on her body, the feral glitter in his eyes, all of it made her body squirm and her juices flow.

Just what she didn't want. She didn't want to succumb to this domination of her. She wanted none of him, except the one moment of possession that would legitimize the marriage.

How could she do that, when every provocation that he had visited on her had not been enough to make him sink himself into her?

Howdid one make a man relinquish that power?

Obviously the dictates of his body were not enough. He was not a man who was led around by his baser nature.

By every standard and what little she knew, he should have succumbed to her charms the moment he ripped away that bedspread.

But then, Court was the kind of man to whomwomen succumbed, and why he had decided that she was to be part of his bargain to obtain Oak Bluffs was beyond her.

And she obviously was not woman enough to entice him.

Except his pulsating body said differently, and he had been in a permanent state of high arousal ever since he'd walked into that bedroom.