Show Me The Ropes ~ Lothario Series ~ Book 2 (3 page)

“You’re more beautiful than I imagined.” His breath whispered across her shoulder. She jumped. When had he come so close? Metal jangled behind her and she quaked. “Easy. Relax, sweetheart. You followed my orders, so I have a surprise for you.”

Richard raised his hands over her head. An intricately wrought gold chain dangled from his fingers. She’d seen them in the gift shop, custom-made slave chains. She recognized it as the one from the display mannequin. Exquisitely handcrafted to look like solid gold rope, it must have cost a fortune. Richard had more money than God, so she shouldn’t have been surprised. The
Lothario
was a very small portion of his portfolio. “Do you want the gift, Fallon?” The chain dangled in front of her face. “Everything we do for the next week is up to you. This chain is simply a reminder for both of us, and anyone else who might want to claim you, that you are mine. No matter what we do, the choice is always yours whether we continue, or not. Nod your head if you understand.”

She nodded. Cold metal draped around her neck. Richard’s fingers scalded her skin where he fastened the intricate collar. “Do you have a safe word you would like to use? Something that will tell me to stop?”

She nodded again.

“Tell me. What is it?”

“Stop,” she whispered. She’d gone from Ph.D. to dunce, in a matter of minutes.

He chuckled.

She closed her eyes. His full lips would be drawn up on one side, a dimple creasing the opposite cheek.

“Not very creative, but it will do.” His hands slipped under her arms and clamped like heated vices over her breasts. His front pressed against her back. The hard shaft of his arousal branded her buttocks. “Try it Fallon. Tell me to stop.”

“Stop.” Her voice broke on the one simple syllable, but his hands instantly dropped away, leaving her breasts aching and cold, but he remained pressed against her.

“See. That’s how it works. Now, let’s get the rest of this chain on you. Turn back around.”

He moved a step back then, allowing her room to turn. Richard sorted the delicate chains and rings and smoothed them over her skin. Two woven gold ropes hung from a ring on the front of the collar and criss-crossed her chest in an intricate pattern before widening to form two rings of the same woven rope pattern, one to encircle each breast. Roped chains fell from under her breasts to repeat the elaborate diamond pattern across her stomach, down to her waist. Richard fastened the rope around her waist to a ring at her bellybutton with a small, jewel-encrusted lock.

There was much more to it. Every few months a new piece had been added to the display. Fallon had even tried on a few of the pieces. She’d been looking at the display one day when the jeweler came out to add the new wrist shackles. He’d noticed her interest in the piece and asked if she wanted to try them on before he added them to the display. They’d fit perfectly, and she’d admired the way they felt, as well as the exquisite workmanship. When the matching ankle shackles were ready, he’d called her and asked her if she wanted to try them too. She’d turned an appointment over to Kelsey and hurried to the gift shop.

Richard knelt before her. “Spread your legs.”

She shifted and his hands on her thighs spread her further. “So beautiful.” One finger swiped through her juices. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.

“Look at me.”

She turned her eyes to the man kneeling before her and watched as he sucked his wet finger into his mouth. Her knees buckled. Richard caught her before she fell. He steadied her, and then helped her to the one chair in the room. “There are more pieces. Every day I’ll reward you with another piece if you have earned it the day before. Now, put on the silk sarong. I want to take you to dinner.”

She was supposed to eat dinner with this chain on? Not that anyone could see anymore than the collar and the two chains hanging down from it, but anyone with half a brain would know there was more.

“You are mine and I want everyone on this ship to know it before the night is through. I will touch you anytime I wish, in any fashion I wish, and you will allow it.”

She nodded.

“I need to hear you say it, Fallon.”

 She slipped the sarong on and faced him. “What do you wish me to say?”

“You always have the option of ‘stop’, but otherwise you will answer, ‘Yes, Richard.’”

“Yes, Richard.”

“Good. Let’s go, then.”

* * * * *

He was going to die. His heart wasn’t up to this kind of stress, and his tortured cock felt like it was caught in a vise. What demon lived inside him, prodding him to do these insane things? Things like sexual harassment and blackmail. Things like ordering Fallon to stand naked before him. Things like touching her.

When he’d commissioned the gold rope slave ensemble two years ago, it had been a fantasy—one that stemmed from his frustration with the woman who now wore a small part of the priceless piece. Since he had no real use for the thing, he’d allowed the master jeweler to display it on a mannequin, as a sort of testament to his skill, and to generate custom orders. Pieces were added as they were completed. It had taken the better part of two years, and a shipload of money, but at last, it was complete. He’d taken possession of it, even the pieces that had never been on display, just this afternoon. It was one of a kind, crafted by a master, designed for a unique woman, commissioned by a desperate man.

It all seemed surreal— walking down the hall a half step behind Fallon – her wearing the anchor piece around her neck. It was a scene straight out of his fantasy. Not that he had any experience with domination or submission. He’d never done anything like this in his life, never wanted to, until Fallon had walked into his life, captured him in her web, and tied him up with ropes of spun silk. That’s where he’d come up with the idea for the gold ropes. If she held him with the silk of her web, he’d chain her with ropes of gold. Solid. Unbreakable. Binding.

Pure fantasy. Light glinted off the collar and drew his eye to her slender neck encased within the one-inch wide band of gold ropes, woven together into a solid mass, and secured with a tiny padlock. Small rings dangled from each side and the back, rings that eventually, if Fallon behaved herself, would hold more ropes, more symbols of his possession.

God, he hoped she behaved herself. Even if she didn’t, if she called a stop to his fantasy, he’d ask her to wear the entire ensemble once, just so he could see it on her before he gave it to her. It was hers, after all, every last rope, link, clamp, and jewel.

Zeus’ Temple, the main restaurant, was crowded when they arrived. Decorated to resemble an opulent palace fit for the Greek Gods, it was a favorite with the passengers. It was the perfect place to bring Fallon. Between the number of passengers, and the enormous staff it took to run the restaurant smoothly, word would spread that Fallon was his. He’d called earlier to request a private table near the windows. It was impossible to see out after dark, but the darkened glass acted as a mirror, making it easier for others to see her. Knowing she was naked beneath the silk sarong, except for the ropes he’d placed on her, made it almost impossible for him to eat. He picked at his food.

What he really wanted, needed, was to feast on her. He hadn’t intended to taste her when he put the ropes on, but she’d been so aroused. Her scent lured him more surely than any siren’s song, and he’d fallen to his knees before her. He’d allowed himself one small taste, and appetizer of sorts. Sweet honey, weeping dew, her female essence permeated his senses even now. Nothing could taste any sweeter, or be more satisfying. If he asked her, no, told her to spread her legs here and now, would she?

“Mr. Wolfe?”

Their waiter, dressed in a
Lothario
tux, skintight black pants, no shirt and white collar and cuffs, interrupted his thoughts. “Yes?”

“Can I get you anything else tonight, sir? Dessert?”

Fallon had a weakness for chocolate. “Ask the chef to send up his best chocolate, whatever it is tonight.”

“Yes sir.” He hurried off to fill the order.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know how much you like your chocolate.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes dropped to her untouched plate. “What are we going to do tonight?”

I think I’ll torture myself
. “I’ve seen the comedian more times than I care too, so I thought we might do something else.”

“Like what?”

“How about a quiet walk on deck?”

“I’d like that.”

Most of the passengers, especially the first timers, were at the comedy show. Newcomers always wanted to go to the show on the first night, that’s why the jokes revolved around cruising, and in the case of the
Lothario
, safe sex. As Cruise Director, Richard attended every first night show, and he’d heard the same stale condom jokes until he’d rather stuff condoms in his ears than hear them again. Thankfully, his assistant had that duty tonight. Instead, he and Fallon had the Odyssey deck almost to themselves. Other couples were scattered about, making out, fucking against the rail (a favorite, judging by the numbers who did it), and a few like them, strolling in the moonlight. Her fingers went to the small key that dangled from the collar, framed against her chest by her collarbone and a diamond of gold rope.

“Does the key unlock me?”

“No.”

“So how am I supposed to get this off?”

“You aren’t.” She walked along, still toying with the key and driving him mad. He couldn’t tell her what the key unlocked, not yet anyway. Perhaps he never would.

“What does it unlock?”

“Nothing.”
Everything
.

They rounded the aft corner and he paused to close the gate, indicating this deck area was off limits. He left Fallon aft while he made sure the deck was clear of other passengers and closed the gate on the port side. Unless some idiot passenger couldn’t read, or thought they were exempt from the rules, then they had the aft deck to themselves.

 “Take off the sarong.”

“Yes, Richard.” No hesitation in her voice. She did as he commanded with efficiency. White silk fluttered to the deck and pooled at her feet. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out even the giant engines below them, and the ocean water churning under the force of the propellers. Her scent carried on the salt-tinged night air. An all too familiar pain made his stomach muscles clench. He closed his eyes a moment and fought for control. The pain subsided, and he dared to look at her again.

She stood with her shoulders back, her legs braced against the pitch and roll of the ship. She was every inch a goddess in both demeanor and appearance. Light from the full moon made her porcelain skin appeared translucent. The collar and ropes he’d placed on her stood out in stark relief. If he was doomed to hell for the course he now steered, he’d gladly pay the price. An eternity in perdition was a fair trade for the chance to have her with him for the rest of his life.

For the longest, he simply drank in the sight of her. His. She was his, at least for the next seven days. He knew he had to start out slow. His cock strained toward her, wanting immediate gratification after dreaming of her for so long, but not tonight. He allowed the bite of pain again before willing it away. Tonight was about her, about building her desire, about showing her how much she meant to him.

“I want to touch you.” The words sounded more like a plea for her mercy than a statement of his desire.

“Yes, Richard.” Her immediate compliance thrilled him. He took a step forward and circled her wrist with his fingers. He led her to the center of the deck and pressed her against the cold metal of the bulkhead. She allowed him to guide her without protest. He flattened her palms against the ship, her arms spread a few inches from her hips.

“Spread your legs.” They parted a few inches. “More.” She spread wider. “That’s better. I’m going to touch you now. You are not to move unless I command it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Richard.”

Sweet God he was going to die. And go to hell for what he was doing to her. What he had wanted to do for two torturous long years.

He started at the top, running his fingers through her golden hair. He combed his fingers through it and tugged. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make sure she was paying attention. Her eyes never left his as he learned the shape of her face, one feature at time. His fingers lingered over her lips, sweeping from one side to the other, parting them, pinching, and plucking at them until they looked as if she’d been thoroughly kissed.

God, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to drag her down to the deck and fill her, but that would have to wait. His index finger traced a line from the soft indentation behind her ear, down her throat to the band he’d placed there. He slipped a finger inside, testing the fit. Assured it was loose enough, he brought his other hand up and with both hands bracketed her neck. His thumbs pushed her chin up, forcing her gaze away from his face. “Stay there. Don’t look down.”

He couldn’t do this if she continued to look at him with those big wary eyes. He was already walking on the thin edge of self-control. Who was he kidding? Control had slipped out of his hands the moment he blackmailed her into acting out his fantasy. He wasn’t sure who, or what was in control. All he knew was that it wasn’t him.