Tied to the Tycoon

By: Chloe Cox

“No strings,” she said again. “Just sex.”

“No strings.”

She bit her lip and nodded.

He didn’t hesitate. He knelt down and stripped her pants off. Now she was completely naked. He lifted her feet out of the useless pants and slowly worked his way up. His hands inched up the backs of her legs and his mouth kissed a trail up the front. She shuddered as he got closer, closer, kissing his way up her tender thighs. His hands gripped her buttocks, and then he nuzzled his face between her legs. It was so strangely intimate, so…

She nearly collapsed. He caught her.

In one swift motion he stood, cupping her ass in his hands and lifting her up so fast she had no time to react. She spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist, as they had almost nowhere else to go. His cock, straining against his pants, pressed against her naked flesh, and she felt herself seep through the thin cotton of his pajama bottoms. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed while he carried her off into the dark.

Ava gripped his neck, as though they were on some wild veldt somewhere and not a luxury apartment in the West Village, and just held on. He busted through some door she couldn’t see, navigating his way in the dark, and then she was on her back, her legs still wrapped around him, his weight pressing her into a soft mattress. A bed. He ground his erection against her, and she caught her breath, grasping at his back.

“I remember,” he said, and for the first time, his voice sounded choked. “I remember what you asked me for. I’ve always remembered.”

Ava couldn’t say anything. She was torn between wanting to scream yes, wanting to tell him to shut up and get inside her, and wanting to run away from the things he’d just brought up.

“You wanted to be tied up,” he said roughly, unwrapping her arms from around his neck.

Ava felt her chest constrict. She did. She’d said that. She’d meant that. She still did. But it was too…

“Not yet,” she whispered. “Please just get inside me.”

He rumbled low deep in his chest. “Not yet,” he said, and pinned her wrists up above her head with one large hand. He ran the other down the length of her body again, stopping only to lift her left leg up and out, spreading her as wide as she could go. She heard the rustle of fabric, the little sounds that let her know what was about to happen, and felt her back begin to arch in anticipation. Jackson Reed.

He pressed his mouth to hers and sank into her.

“Ava,” he said, his breath on her cheek, and he began a steady rhythm, controlled at first, but growing wilder with each beat. He filled her, more even than she’d remembered, pushing deeper with every stroke, saying her name over and over until it sounded like a chant, or a prayer. She couldn’t escape, wouldn’t have wanted to if she could. She wanted to be taken, completely, by Jackson Reed.

Soon she was bucking wildly against him, wanting to feel fuller, if that were possible, wanting to drown totally in him. He plunged into her with abandon, driving out all her worries, pushing aside her anxieties, and leaving room only for the swirling force that gathered in her core. He tilted her up and pistoned against her g-spot until she closed in around him like a sleeping flower and then exploded, unfolding outwards again and again, until she had nothing left.

chapter 6

It took a second for Ava to realize where she was. It obviously wasn’t her apartment. The sheets were too nice, for one, and the light was all wrong, in that there was so much of it. No one she knew had windows this big.

Holy crap, that all really happened.

She buried her face in a sinfully soft pillow. She couldn’t turn over and look. She knew what she’d find: Jackson Reed.

This was basically her best dream and her worst nightmare all rolled into one. That actually, really, for serious happened.Stella’s engagement party. The stupid bet! The best sex of my life.

Just the thought of facing Jackson this morning, of facing everything they’d done and the way it had made her feel, put an iron knot of anxiety in her stomach. He had already been deeper inside her, both physically and metaphorically, than any man since…since him. This was terrible. Ava was in no way prepared for this kind of…

Well, saying she wasn’t prepared for this kind of vulnerability sort of made her seem like not the most well adjusted person. But this was a legitimate shock. She had completely misjudged her ability to just keep it sexual, to just explore that one side of herself. She needed time to think, to collect herself, to decide what she really wanted and how she should proceed so she wouldn’t get her heart broken by Jackson freaking Reed—again.

She needed to get the hell out of there.

Slowly, Ava worked her arm out from under her pillow and used it to push herself up on the bed. She could feel the weight of Jackson right behind her; she’d have to be stealthy if she were going to get out of this without waking him up and making a scene. She would come back. She would call him. She just needed to think.

But she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He’d be sleeping, looking beautiful and good, and totally unaware that she was leaving, and she couldn’t face that, either.

You are thirty-two years old, Ava Barnett. You are supposed to be a grown up. Grown ups do not sneak out of beds.

She really did feel like a dumbass college student again, but it was her only option. The only one she could bear, anyway. Using every abdominal muscle she’d ever earned at the gym, she lifted her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed. She couldn’t see her clothes, which, she remembered now, weren’t even proper clothes, but freaking pajamas. And they were out in the other room. Perfect. She’d just get up without moving the bed, and…

Ava’s dismount was perfect, but a tug on her left arm pulled her back to the bed with a definite bounce.

What the hell? And then: crap, did I wake him up?

Cringing, Ava turned to look.

And she saw Jackson Reed, one sleepy eyebrow raised, holding the end of a black leather lead that was fastened to a black leather cuff on her left wrist.

“Going somewhere?” he said, and yawned. Then he pulled on the lead, dragging her back down until she was flat on her back, her nakedness very much on display for him.

“What the fuck?” she said, and tried to sit up. Jackson put two strong arms on either side of her and kissed her back down.

When he finally let her go, she was breathless. “Not fair,” she said.

He was admiring the view of her naked breasts, but apparently his mind was still working. “Neither is running away,” he said.

Ava didn’t have an immediate comeback. She was not prepared for him to make sense, not when he’d apparently tethered her to his bed. She looked at the cuff on her wrist and couldn’t believe it.

“Seriously, Jackson, what is this?”

She held up her left wrist as much as she could while still pinned under his weight. He was making it hard for her to focus, or stay mad, or think about anything other than his body on top of hers. And by the look on his face, he knew it, too.

He pushed a knee between her legs and nudged them wide, settling in between them like he belonged there. It felt like he did belong there. The thought sent Ava into a panic. That felt an awful lot like strings.

“What’s wrong?” he said, his eyes going soft as he studied her changing face. He could read her, as always.

“What’s wrong is I’ve woken up tied to your bed, not knowing what the hell I’m doing, or what’s going on, or what any of this means, or if I’m ready for it, or even if—oh God, did we even use protection?”

“I get tested every six months.”

And she was on the pill. Still, though. She ignored him. “And all I want is to go think somewhere, and—”

He kissed her again. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t answer any of her questions or address her concerns, but replaced her thoughts with a nameless warmth.

“Stop doing that,” she said when he let her up for air. “I need to think.”

“You’ve been thinking for ten years,” he said. “How’s that worked out for you?”