Chapter 1: Bound and Waiting
The silk restraints were cool against Aidan’s wrists, a stark contrast to the heat simmering under his skin. He tested them, not to escape, but to feel the bite. The broad, carved posts of their bed held him fast, spread-eagle against the deep navy velvet. Above him, the canopy draped in more silk filtered the low light from a single lamp, casting the room in long, intimate shadows.
Catriona stood at the foot of the bed, a silhouette of curving hip and cascading red hair. She took a slow sip from her champagne flute, her eyes—that sharp, knowing green—fixed on him over the rim.
“Comfortable?” she asked, her voice a low purr.
“I’ve been better,” Aidan said, his own voice rougher than he intended. He flexed his arms, the muscles in his biceps and chest bunching. “Also, I’ve been worse.”
She smiled, a slow, wicked thing, and placed her glass on the silver tray beside the bed. She walked around to his side, the sound of her bare feet on the polished wood floor deliberately slow. Her fingers trailed up his inner thigh, and he jolted, a full-body shudder that made the restraints pull taut.
“The thing about comfort,” she murmured, leaning down so her breath warmed his ear, “is that it’s terribly boring. Don’t you think?”
He turned his head to catch her scent—vanilla and something sharper, like amber. His heart was a drum against his ribs. “What’s the plan, Cat?”
She straightened up, her hands going to the sash of her emerald robe. With a gentle tug, it slid open and pooled on the floor. She wore nothing underneath. The sight of her, all pale skin and fire-kissed hair, hit him like a physical blow. His body responded instantly, his cock, thick and heavy, hardening against his stomach.
“The plan is simple,” she said, her gaze dropping to his obvious arousal. A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face. “You don’t get untied until you’ve served your purpose.”
“Which is?” he prompted, though a dark, thrilling suspicion was already coiling in his gut.
She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips but not touching him, her warmth hovering just above him. She leaned forward, her hair creating a private curtain around their faces. “You’re going to fill every one of my friends,” she whispered, her lips brushing his. “Deep. A proper creampie for each. No exceptions. That’s your only job tonight. To be my generous, devastatingly efficient fountain.”
Aidan’s breath caught. The crude words, spoken in her cultured, playful tone, sent a jolt of pure, undiluted lust straight to his core. His cock throbbed. “Jesus, Cat.”
“Not him,” she teased, nipping his lower lip. “Just you. My handsome, tied-down husband.” She sat back, studying the mix of alarm and desperate hunger on his face. “Problem?”
He swallowed. The idea was obscene. Terrifying. Incredibly hot. “How many friends?”
“Enough to be a challenge,” she said, her smile all mischief. “But not enough to break you. I’m not a monster.” She ran a single fingernail from the base of his throat down his sternum, over the tight plane of his abdomen. He shuddered. “Think of it as a party game. I handle the invitations, the ambiance, the rules. You handle the… climaxes.”
Before he could form a coherent question—who, when, how the hell—the melodic chime of the doorbell echoed through the house.
Catriona’s eyes lit up. “Right on time.” She gave his cock a deliberate, slow stroke that made his hips jerk off the bed. “Our first guest is here. Be good.”
She slipped off the bed, retrieved her robe, and tied it loosely as she glided out of the bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her.
Aidan was left alone, trussed to his own bed, achingly hard. The low hum of distant voices filtered up the stairs—Catriona’s light laugh, another, higher-pitched one in response. His mind raced. Which friend? Fiona, maybe, from her yoga class, with her shy smile and surprising boldness when she’d had too much wine? Or Lisa, the outspoken graphic designer who never hesitated to compliment his arms?
He strained to listen. The voices grew closer, accompanied by the light tread of feet on the stairs. Laughter, easy and excited, just outside the door.
This was really happening.
The door swung open. Catriona entered first, her gaze locking with his, a queen presenting her prize. Following her, wearing a nervous but intrigued smile and a simple, elegant black dress, was Fiona.
“See?” Catriona said, her arm looped through Fiona’s. “I told you he was ready and waiting.”
Fiona’s eyes widened, traveling from Aidan’s face down the length of his restrained, powerfully built body, pausing at the clear evidence of his arousal. A blush crept up her neck. “Wow, Cat. You really weren’t kidding.”
“I never kid about parties,” Catriona said, leading her friend toward the bed. “The rules are simple. You get what you came for. He doesn’t get untied until the last round is fired.” She turned her emerald eyes back to Aidan. “Isn’t that right, darling?”
Aidan could only nod, his throat tight. The reality of it, the sight of Fiona’s curious, hungry look, made everything terrifyingly concrete.
Catriona perched on the edge of the bed near Aidan’s shoulder, one hand possessively on his chest. “Go ahead, Fi. He’s all yours for this dance. Don’t be gentle. He likes it.”
Fiona bit her lip, then let out a small, decisive breath. Her fingers went to the clasp of her dress. The sound of the zpper seemed deafening in the quiet room.
Aidan watched, his pulse hammering in his ears, as the black fabric slid down her shoulders and fell to the floor.