Want It Bad by Melinda DuChamp

Jake’s chest. Her body moved of its own will, opening up, pressing against him, rocking up then down. She had never been so turned on. Ever.
    Pulling her tighter, Jake slipped a hand between her legs, probing from behind. His fingers parted her and slid between her folds, sinking deep. “You’re so wet, Carla. And you’re good at following orders. Such a good girl.”
    Carla had always hated it when guys said things like that, as if she was a dog in need of praise. But right then, she didn’t care. In fact, she could swear it only made her hotter, wetter.
    She rested her hands on either side of his rib cage, pulling him harder against her and stroking from waistband to chest.
    Jake stiffened, then pulling his hand free, he turned away.
    At first, Carla almost grabbed for him, then she let her arms fall to her sides. It was the same type of behavior she’d called him on earlier. He’d seemed totally into her, then abruptly pulled back. She hadn’t touched his cock. Could she have done something else wrong? Broken some other rule she didn’t know about? “What’s wrong?”
    “Wrong?” He didn’t look at her, just crossed to the head of the bed and opened a drawer in the bedside table. Turning back to her, he held up his prize. The soft light glinted on metal. “You’re ready for the next step.”
    Handcuffs. Two pairs.
    She’d fantasized about being bound like Mrs. Gladstone, but now that it was about to happen, Carla felt a little dizzy.
    “Have you ever been tied up, Carla?”
    She opened her mouth, but no sound came.
    He circled the bed, returning to her side. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take it easy on you. At first.”
    She was about to ask what that meant when he clapped a cuff to her right wrist, then fastened it high on the bedpost at the foot of the bed.
    Carla pulled against the cuff, unable to break away. “But I thought I’d be lying on the bed like—”
    He clapped a bracelet on the other wrist. Trailing his hand over her hip, and up her side like she’d done to him, he pushed her second hand up to the level of the first and fastened steel to steel.
    Carla stretched up to the cuffs, back against bedpost, cold iron against hot skin. “Did I do something wrong? Break some kind of rule?”
    “Of course not,” he said, running his fingers down her arm to her breasts. He cupped each mound, pinching the nipples hard this time. “There’s one thing you have to understand, Carla. You’re in control here. That’s how this works. You can surrender to me, and yet you’re still the one in control.”
    She managed a nod.
In control. In control.
    “Do you trust me?”
    Do I? I barely know him.
    “I want to.”
    “That’s a start.” He kneaded her breasts, pinching, flicking, until her nipples poked out more prominently than she’d thought possible.
    Carla’s breathing slowed, the tightness dissipating.
    He moved his hands down her sides to her waist, the sprinkling of hair on his chest teasing her distended nipples. His hardness pressed against her, flexing through his leather pants.
    “I can do anything I want to you, now. And you can’t touch me. Do you like that, Carla?”
    She shouldn’t. She was naked, strung up. She shouldn’t like it at all.
    But it was exciting.
    Dangerous.
    This is what I wanted, isn’t it?
    To take a risk. To be bold. To feel alive.
    “Yes. I like it.”
    Jake replaced his fingers with his mouth, circling one nipple with his tongue. His breath tickled the wetness, and Carla arched her back again, wanting more.
    “So needy,” he said then sucked her nipple hard into his mouth.
    A tugging sensation seized her, as if all her nerves were connected to her breast. She moaned and arched toward him, pulling against her bindings, the handcuffs clanging against the bed.
    “You’re communicating well, Carla. So very responsive.”
    Jake cupped her buttock with one palm. He did the same to the other nipple, teasing her, torturing her. Nipping her gently, he kneaded