Tied to the Tycoon (12 page)

“Take off the coat,” Jackson said behind her. She turned to find him messing about with some sort of complicated rope rig and froze, transfixed by what that implied.

“I said: take off the coat, Ava.”

Her eyes still locked on those ropes, she complied. She wasn’t even cold, surrounded by the heat lamps, but she shivered anyway.

“Put out your hands,” he said, and walked towards her. He was lit very softly from below, from the light of the lanterns surrounding the quarry pond at the bottom of the cliff. It made him seem even more imposing. Ava extended both hands for him, wrists together. Somehow, she knew what he wanted.

He tied her wrists together with a length of rope, using some fancy knot Ava had never seen before. Her sweater dress provided some cushioning so the ropes didn’t cut into her skin, but she wasn’t getting free without help.

He led her by the length of rope closer to the edge of the cliff—very close, in fact. She could look down into the quarry if she bent over; on her tip toes, she could see the uneven snow cover on the blue ice, all of it surrounded by the glow of lanterns hanging from studs in the sheer rock walls.

“Stay where you are,” he said again. He walked a few feet away and flung some sort of pulley-looking thing over the tree branch that extended out over the edge of the yawning quarry. Ava looked down and realized the line over the branch was the same one that bound her wrists.

She swallowed.

Jackson wasn’t done. There was another contraption rigged to the first. He was busy for what seemed like a long time setting everything up—he even climbed the tree and did some sort of complicated looking things up there. Ava actually preferred not to pay attention. She guessed that if she tried to figure out what would happen and how, she’d be distracted when it actually came to pass.

Apparently it would involve rope.

She took a deep breath.

“Come here,” he said, motioning her a step closer to the edge. She was just close enough to see down into the quarry, but not quite close enough to be afraid. He pulled on the line, and slowly the rope that bound her wrists began to grow taut, pulling her arms up and out, towards the edge of the cliff. Ava watched him nervously. He stopped with her arms raised just above her shoulders, pulled forward slightly at the waist. She wouldn’t be able to walk in any direction but forward, and that was not an option for obvious, cliff-related reasons. She could see him grinning.

Ava began to breathe a little faster.

“Stay,” he said, this time lightly. She cocked her head and made a face, an instinctual, sarcastic gesture that she instantly regretted.

Sort of.

He only slapped her ass once, but it sent thrilling vibrations through her whole body. “I’m not falling for your tricks, Ava,” he said in her ear. “Next time, it really will be a punishment. Like not being allowed to come.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

He moved his hands down the sides of her legs and took hold of one ankle, moving it farther out to the side. Then he did the same to the other, spreading her legs a few feet apart. Even though she was fully clothed, it felt…vulnerable, with her body slightly bent at the waist. She had to arch her lower back slightly to keep her balance, pushing her ass up and out, like an invitation.

She clenched at the thought and looked down. He’d fastened ropes securely around the ankles of her laced boots. She followed the lines of rope; each went towards the trees, into the dark.

She was tied between two trees.

Ava closed her eyes and savored the feeling. Even fully clothed…

But Jackson was making some sort of noise behind her, going through that pack. She heard him crunch in the snow, heard a different sound when he reached the dry, flat area of rock. He was right behind her now. She could hear him breathing.

Why isn’t he touching me? What is he—

First, she just felt the sweater dress pull against her neck at the collar line as he pulled it back, getting some slack away from her skin. Then it began to fall away from her body. There was a rough, grating sound of cloth separating, of wool, of her sweater dress…

Being cut off of her body.

Oh my God
.

The sweater dress hung uselessly around her arms now, her back nearly naked to the night air and the heat of the lamps. There was a snapping sound, and her bra strap fell forward. She was bare. She heard a cutting sound to her left: he was slowly cutting down the length of the sleeve with a large knife, taking care to pull the fabric far away from her skin. She felt his breath on her bare skin, felt the warmth of the lamps and the chill of the winter air; she closed her eyes, and the dress was gone. She was naked from the waist up, her breasts already reacting, her nipples already pert.

When she opened her eyes, she didn’t see him. For a wild moment, there was panic, and then there was a hand on her back, a large, calm hand, rubbing her up and down. She sighed, and he moved his hands around to her front, fondling each breast lovingly. He pinched both nipples at once, and laughed when she gasped.

Then she felt a pull on the waistband of her leggings. She held her breath while he cut them away from her body, first down one leg, then the other. With the same deliberate care, he cut the thin waistband of her panties, first one side, then the other, and she was naked. With a great sigh, she gasped for air, her whole body breathing in the cold night, the simultaneous chill of the winter air on her nakedness and the warmth from the lamps and just the very nearness of
him
…

She felt drunk. She wasn’t drunk. She’d had only one glass of wine. What was this?

Where was Jackson?

She didn’t know how long she stood there, naked and exposed and bound, before she became certain he was no longer near her. She was already feeling somehow outside of herself, feeling that time was distorted and sensation heightened. She couldn’t be certain; she couldn’t look behind her. It was just a feeling.

“Jackson?”

There was no answer.

Ava now felt the cold wind on her bare cunt, on the wetness there. The sharp sensation focused her entire awareness there for one second, and then it abated and her conscious mind regained some semblance of its normal faculties.

“Jackson?”

He wouldn’t leave her out there, not tied and bare and vulnerable to anyone who came by. To any of the other guests. Any of the employees. Her entire abdomen tightened at the thought, and the heavy pulse between her legs told her she was swollen and ready. Why did that thought excite her so much? She knew she should be scared, but in the same way she knew random facts about the world, not as something real and immediate and
felt
…

She heard voices.

The awareness of other human beings nearby shot through her body like an electrical current. Exactly like a current. Once, on her best friend’s grandparents’ farm when she was a kid, she’d touched the mildly electrified fence that surrounded the horse paddock on a dare. Her whole body had become a kind of rigid, static fire, and her mind had gone blank. This was exactly like that.

She couldn’t have moved, anyway. She was tied.

The wind rushed over her again, its cool caresses raising her nipples into hard, fine points, like the whole world was participating in this. Slowly, Ava’s mind became aware of more salient facts: the voices, more than one, male and female, coming from below. They seemed loud because they were echoing off the high stone walls of the quarry.

The other guests had all been carrying ice skates…

She saw them begin to arrive, clambering down the rough stone steps that had been cut into the earth, gathering together on the wide stone platform that reached out into the frozen pond. If they looked up, they would see her. She would be well lit by the lanterns, the angle of the cliff as it sloped down into the pond providing them a full view of her naked body, bent over and bound. She would be completely exposed, even to the people she’d been hiding from earlier.

Ava began to shake. First her legs, then her arms, and finally, her core—all of it trembled. She didn’t dare call out, didn’t want to attract attention to herself, didn’t want to be seen. Didn’t want to be
known.
Oh God, more than anything else, she didn’t want to be seen for what she was, with no way of controlling it, no way of presenting herself as she wanted to be seen. Where was Jackson? Why was this happening? Where…

This time, she heard the crunch of boots in the snow behind her. The furious trembling ceased, replaced only by the rapid sound of her breathing and the shouting laughter of the skaters below.

“Jackson?” she whispered, so softly she couldn’t be sure that anyone but her could have heard. She was still so afraid of catching the attention of the skaters below, of being seen.

The crunch of boots grew closer, then stopped. Whoever it was must have been right behind her.
It must be Jackson…right? What if…

Oh God, what if it isn’t him?

The delighted shriek of a female skater from below stretched her mind as tight as the ropes that bound her: which thing did she fear more? Being seen, or the unknown man behind her? One of the men in her line of sight threw back his head in laughter, and Ava flinched. He could have seen her, and if one of them did, then they all—

A large, rough hand pressed into the small of her back, and her awareness of the world around her contracted into the small area of contact where the unknown man’s skin touched hers. He rubbed the hand up her spine and down again, setting her whole body to trembling again.

He did not speak.

She was afraid to ask.

Her body reared with desire, her lower back straining to present herself to whomever was behind her. Her animal brain was taking over completely. Jackson had done exactly what he knew would drive her insane: left her bound, vulnerable, under someone else’s control, and he’d done it in a place where she could be
seen
.

Oh God, she needed to get fucked. She needed Jackson.

Please, Jackson…

He wouldn’t let her be left for anyone else; he wouldn’t want her with anyone else—he’d
said
that, hadn’t he?

“Jackson?
Oh God
.”

The man behind her thrust his hand between her spread legs, palming her ass with a large hand while his fingers stroked at her wet folds. Her leg began to shake again, an involuntary response, and her body strained against the rope that held her arms aloft as she tried to reach back to him. It was mindless. Before she knew it, she’d groaned aloud, and this brought her back slightly, reminded her there was some reason she hadn’t called out, hadn’t demanded, out loud, to know who was behind her, even though she was sure it had to be him, this had to be part of his plan, and then she looked down.

Part of his plan…

Nobody had heard her—yet. The skaters still chased each other around the pond. But if this continued, she wouldn’t be able to hold it in. She would scream out into the night.

The man behind her seemed to read her thoughts. He pushed two fingers deep inside her, and she let out a surprised cry as her hips pushed into his hand and her arms pulled against the rope, her eyes flying wide open.

“Oh God…please…”

The man didn’t answer except to reach around and rub one nipple, then the other, spreading a slick, smooth oil on her skin. As he reached down to her clit, a prickly warmth began to rise up on the surface of her skin where he’d spread the oil. She had just a moment to wonder what was in the oil before he thrust a third finger inside her and began to rub the remaining oil on her clit.

This time, she cried out.

She couldn’t bear to look down, couldn’t do much of anything besides fight off the pressure that was building inside her. She wasn’t ready—she wasn’t near ready to have a screaming orgasm in front of all of these people.

The man still held her, one hand in the front, the other in the back, his fingers working inside her. She felt him lean close into her back, felt the itchy material of his sweater.

Jackson
…

“Don’t you fight me, Ava.”

It was Jackson’s voice, Jackson’s low, dominant growl. She opened her eyes and looked up to the moon. His fingers swirled around her clit in a slow, steady, maddening rhythm. Soon she would be helpless to keep from coming. Her entire low body was contracting in anticipation, her insides coiled tight around the pressure.

“Think about what you learned so far. Don’t fight that. You need to relax into me, just let it go. Go into that space. Do it now.”

How did he know about that? About what it had felt like, tied down in his apartment, her legs spread? Like she’d shed all earthly concerns, existed only on a current of sensation and love and…

“This is what you’re going to do, Ava: you’re going to face your fear of being seen for what you are, and you’re going to use it. You’re going to take that feeling of being ashamed and afraid and turn it into something worthwhile while I fuck you. You will come hard, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear you and look up and see you getting fucked, and you’re going to like it.”

Ava closed her eyes again and felt herself slide into that place. It felt slow, but must have only been a few moments. His fingers were pushing and rubbing, each movement a burst of sensation, like a steady beacon guiding her toward a space where everything but the present fell away. She opened her eyes, looked down at the skaters below, and sighed.

Could she do it? She knew, suddenly, that she could. Somehow there was freedom in obedience. She could do this for him.

He pulled away from her, and the shock of it brought back the reality of being bound, of being tied between trees, of the rustling sounds of his clothing, of a zipper being undone, of the alternate extremes of cold air and warmth from the lamps. It was like her mind became unmoored, battered about with the sudden intrusion of the rest of the world, and there was a moment of sheer panic at the suddenness of it, at being off-balance—

He plunged into her with his cock, driving in deep, so deep and so quickly that she felt herself pushed forward against the ropes around her ankles, forcing her down against the ropes that held her wrists. She screamed, loudly, her eyes wide open.