Bound for Success
COVER © ALESSIA BRIO

978-1-4523-0673-5
JANUARY 2010
19,000 WORDS
$1.99

 

Purple Prosaic is a self-publishing label featuring the nocturnal emissions of eroticists Alessia Brio & Will Belegon.

BOUND FOR SUCCESS

PASSION IN PITTSBURGH (BOOK 2)

 

A stand-alone continuation of the tale which began with this writing team's most popular novella, ARTISTICALLY INCLINED, Pittsburgh's daring duo is back in a hot-blooded romance with a penchant for ties that bind! When Cyndi's nerves about her gallery opening get the better of her, Kevin takes matters into his own hands, replacing one tension with another and setting the stage for a very eventful evening.

 

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PRIMARILY M/F (PLAYFULLY M/F/F), CONTEMPORARY, BDSM, EXPLICIT ADULT FICTION


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EXCERPT

"Lay back and roll over, Cyn. Let's see if I can make some of that tension to go away. And don't worry about the time. If you show up before eight o'clock, you're going to offend half the art patrons in Pittsburgh. They'll think you're making a comment about punctuality and the decadence of modern society or something."

"Okay, if I must." Cyndi rolled over with a sigh that was only half playful. "I really am nervous about tonight."

Kevin pushed the robe up Cyndi's thighs and pried her legs gently apart, kneeling on the bed between them so he could lean over her back to reach her neck and shoulders. "Baby, I can't properly relax you with all this terrycloth in the way. How 'bout we lose the bathrobe?"

Cyndi tugged at the robe's belt, loosening it, and shrugged the garment off one shoulder, allowing Kevin's hands to pull it down. She lifted the other shoulder, and he slipped it the rest of the way off. It went flying through the bedroom just as the towel had done moments earlier. "Happy now, sir?"

"Not quite, but give me a second," Kevin said, running his fingertips down her arms and curling them around her hands. He pulled her arms to her sides and tenderly smoothed them down. The bed creaked as Kevin straddled her thighs and shifted his weight such that the bulk of him rested on her legs, holding her in place. Despite her stress, Cyndi snuggled her face into the pillow and closed her eyes, eagerly awaiting the strength of his fingers on her knotted shoulders.

Instead, he once more ran his fingertips gently down both arms to her hands. It drew a soft sigh—a sigh that became a gasp as he grasped both her hands firmly and moved them to the center of her back. Kevin wrapped the discarded nylons around Cyndi's wrists, pulling tightly and tying them before she could gather herself to struggle. By the time she did, he had her hands bound securely behind her back.

"Kevin Thomas Rogers, you sneaky son of a bitch! You think this," she wiggled her fingers, "is gonna take my mind off the show?"

Kevin stood and leaned over the bed to speak directly into Cyndi's ear. "No, I don't think it is. I know it is—mainly because I don't plan to untie you until all that worry is gone and you have a dreamy expression on your face. Perhaps you won't be relaxed, per se, but your mind WILL be focused on an entirely different kind of tension—a delicious kind. You won't need any blush this evening, Cyn. I promise you that."

"Oh, ho! Listen to you, Mister I'm-So-In-Charge." Her voice, still muffled by the pillow and the hair covering her face, hovered between incredulity at being bound and amusement at Kevin's bravado. "Seriously, Kev. As much as I'd like to play out this bondage thing with you, it'd take me hours and hours to achieve the kinda relaxation you're talking about tonight. It's just not gonna happen. I'm way too tense. Let's revisit this after the opening, shall we? I'll be a much more enthusiastic partner then. Promise. M'kay?"

Cyndi waited for his response—and waited. After a few minutes, she squirmed until she managed to turn herself onto her side. Kevin wasn't in sight. Just as she opened her mouth to call for him, he returned to the bedroom. In one hand, he held a lit candle. In the other, a tumbler of ice cubes which he placed on the nightstand.

"Did you say something, sweet cheeks? I'm so sorry. I couldn't hear you from the kitchen." Kevin's voice dripped with feigned syrupy sweetness. He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair from Cyndi's face.

"Why, yes, sugar plum," she growled as she attempted to catch his fingers between her teeth. "I did say something. I said for you to untie me so that I can continue pacing and fretting and whining while I get ready for the biggest damned night of my career."

"Like I said, passion flower, I'll untie you when you've relaxed. Or, perhaps I should paraphrase: I'll untie you when you've come so hard that you can't stand up. How's that, eh? Understand now, snookums?"

Cyndi responded by placing both feet on Kevin's flank and pushing him from the bed onto the floor. "Lotsa luck, stud muffin." Continuing the motion, she brought both knees to her chest and curled into a tight ball. Before Kevin realized what she was doing, she'd slipped her bound wrists around her ass. With a little wriggle, one leg passed through her arms—immediately followed by the other. She stood, triumphantly; wrists now bound in front of her, cocked her head to the side, and stuck out her tongue.

"Impressive," he applauded from his perch on the carpet. "Didn't know you could do tricks. So, now what?"

"Now, I cut these bonds."

"Don't think so, sugar. We have unfinished business. Your relaxation is of the utmost importance, and I see it as my sworn duty to take your mind off your worries—a duty I take very, very seriously." As he spoke, he stood and approached Cyndi. His hands caressed her bare skin. They traveled over her shoulders and down her back, lightly tracing the crack of her ass. When he pressed his body into hers and nuzzled her neck, she sighed. "Good girl," Kevin whispered.

His posture changed abruptly upon the realization that Cyndi's bound wrists rested directly over the fly of his underwear. She was a split second ahead of him, though, and had both hands full of him before he could pull away.

"Now, let me go," she said through clenched teeth, squeezing a bit to punctuate her demand. "I mean it, Kevin."

"You, my love, are one devious wench! I do so like that about you." He shrugged. "Okay, you win—this time. Lemme get a knife."

"Oh, no! I'm not gullible enough to fall for that. We'll go together."

They traveled through the master bedroom and down the hall toward the kitchen, conjoined. Passing the spare bedroom they'd recently converted into a home gym, Kevin caught sight of the new speed bag mounted at eye level against the far wall, and inspiration struck. Without giving himself time to worry about his potential discomfort, he grasped Cyndi's waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. The surprise maneuver made her lose her grip, and she beat on his back in protest.

"Damn it, Kevin, put me down!"