Tied to the Tycoon

By: Chloe Cox


“How were you going to come and find me?” she asked. She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice shook anyway. “You don’t even know where I live.”

He looked at her, completely serious. “You know I would find a way.”

She felt herself crumbling, felt her senses leaving her, felt… No. She couldn’t fall already. Whatever it was between them had short-circuited her brain, wired itself directly to her gut, her heart. This was the power of the man: he made her forget everything she’d promised herself.

He moved closer and slipped his hands under her tank top, resting them for a moment on her bare skin, preparing to take the top off. She inhaled and fought through the pulse roaring in her ears.

“Wait,” she whispered.

Please don’t make me say it again, she thought. I don’t think I could say it again.

He bent his head toward hers and traced the line of her jaw with his finger. She could smell him, musky and strong. It did not make her resistance easier.

“We should talk first,” he finally said.

She exhaled with relief and nodded. Not just because she needed talk, but also relief that he was still just as sensitive as she remembered. That connection was still real. She was right to feel safe, and as soon as she felt that, the words just came tumbling out.

“How does this work? I mean…what are the rules? I have no idea, I’ve never…like, I mean, are there safewords? What happens if—”

Lightning quick, he snaked his arm around her back, reached down, and grabbed her ass hard enough to shut her up. He pulled her up toward him, his fingers slipping into the fold between her buttocks. Her clit screamed, and her whole body heard it.

He said, “Slow down.”

It’s not as if she had a choice. There was hardly any oxygen going to her brain.

He began to caress her up and down with his free hand along the length of her body, almost petting her. It made her both calm and incredibly…the opposite of calm. Whatever that was. She could barely think.

“Yes,” he said, his hand grazing her breast, “you’ll get a safeword. Something you’ll remember, but something that won’t come up otherwise. It’s not something you want to get confused about. Pick one.”

Ava tried hard to think of the least sexy thing she could. Must keep the boundaries. Must keep the strings. Maybe that would calm her down, make her feel in control of herself. She could almost hear her mind lurching into gear, like an old manual transmission that hadn’t been lubed up in… Oh, God, don’t think about lube.

“Garlic press?” she said, breathlessly.

He burst out laughing, his grey eyes sparkling.

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

His voice was soft, but he was done waiting. He let her go only to lift her arms and push her tank top up over her breasts and off her body. He threw it somewhere without even looking, his eyes focused only on her, standing half naked in front of him. He let his gaze rake her up and down like he wanted her to know he saw her. Her breath caught in her throat, and then he caught her by the waist again and pulled her close.

“But if you ever want to use that safeword,” he said, pinching one nipple, “I won’t have done my job.”

Ava closed her eyes and tried to breathe. He was toying with her nipple and her breast, his iron grip holding her motionless.

“Your job?” she finally managed.

“I told you: I’m going show you what you are. I’m going to show you that you’re mine.”

Ava’s eyes flew open, and her heart thudded hard in her chest. She was so far gone that she couldn’t tell what was lust, what was panic, and what was…something else. When she spoke, her voice sounded small.

“You said no strings,” she said.

“And I meant it, Frida. You are mine for one week. After that, you can do what you want.”

He was so close, his eyes gentle, and his hands rough. Ava kept opening and closing her hands, balling them into little fists in an effort not to use them. She wanted to touch him so badly, but didn’t trust herself at all. If she didn’t have ground rules, she’d fall completely.

“What does that mean, I’m yours?” she said.

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