Read Online Brokered Submission by Claire Thompson - Free Book Online Page A

of her confidence tipping crazily beneath her feet, the walls of her experience at odd angles with what she thought she knew. “I’m not a submissive,” she insisted, though the words rang hollow in her own ears. “I’m here as part of a deal, an agreement, nothing more.”
    Dylan regarded her silently for several beats. She stared back at him defiantly. “Nothing more?” he finally said in a quiet voice. When Zoë didn’t respond, he continued, “So you’re telling me you’re here strictly to fulfill the terms of a financial obligation? Your reaction to the spanking, your reaction just now to the inspection—these were, what? Just you being polite?”
    He lifted his fingers to his nose, his eyes fixed on her face as he made a show of inhaling the scent of her arousal. Zoë looked away, embarrassed and confused. Dylan’s voice was low and hypnotic, and though she kept her head averted, she found herself hanging on every word. “So the idea of being suspended from that beam overhead—your wrists cuffed and secured, forced onto tiptoe by the tight pull of the rope and leather—holds no allure for you? You’re indifferent to the possibility of standing naked and bound, unable to anticipate or avoid the next stroke of my whip?”
    Zoë forgot to breathe.
    Dylan moved closer. He reached for her shoulders, forcing her to face him. He stared down into her eyes. “I accept that you’re here under unusual conditions, Zoë. I agree you entered into this agreement without full understanding of what I can offer you, or what I plan to take. But to say you’re not submissive, to pretend you’re here only to fulfill an obligation in order to further your career...” He trailed off, and dipped his head toward hers.
    Taking her face in his hands, he touched his lips to hers. His kiss was light at first, but became more insistent, his tongue teasing along her lower lip and sliding into her mouth. He brought his arms around her. She could feel his cock like an iron bar between them as he pulled her close against his body. Her arms came up of their own accord and snaked around his neck as she kissed him back.
    This was more like it! He was going to make love to her at last. She leaned heavily against him, silently willing him to move toward the narrow twin bed so they could fall upon it together.
    As if reading her mind and obeying her unspoken command, Dylan cupped his palms beneath her ass and lifted her into the air. She locked her legs around his waist and buried her face in his neck. But instead of carrying her across the room, after a moment he lifted her away from his body and set her on her feet.
    “Enough sweetness,” he said, his voice gruff, his eyes glittering. He hooked his finger through the O-ring of her collar and pulled on it, forcing her up on her toes. “I told you this was boot camp, and time’s a wastin’.”
    He let go of the collar and stepped back. Going over to the wall, he retrieved two coils of rope and a pair of leather wrists cuffs. There was a small stepstool leaning against one side of the bureau. He brought this, along with the rope and cuffs, back to where Zoë was standing.
    Without saying a word, he opened the stepstool and placed the cuffs and one of the rope coils on it. He unspooled the second coil, tying a slipknot at each end. He did the same with the second piece of rope. Zoë watched him, saying nothing, her mind temporarily short-circuited by thwarted sexual frustration and an undeniable fascination with what he was doing.
    He reached for the cuffs and attached one to each rope, using a spring clip to secure them. He ascended the stepstool and looped the ropes over the eyehooks, pulling the knots tight. Stepping down from the stool, he moved it aside.
    The ropes swayed on either side of Zoë, the leather cuffs dangling at their ends. “Lift your arms over your head,” Dylan instructed in a quiet but firm voice.
    Zoë stared up at the ropes, and then glanced anxiously toward