Sookie's heart stopped for a full beat and her stomach lurched into her throat.

Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.

Her attention snapped to his face just as he languidly opened his eyes. "I . . . I'm s—" she stammered, looking for all the world like a deer caught in headlights.

This was not how this was supposed to go. She only meant to steal a quick peek at him before he rose, not get herself into a whole mess of trouble.

"I . . . I just . . ." she tried again.

"Well, well . . . well," he purred through a smug grin, still holding her wrist tight. "Find what you were looking for, lover?"

Her pulse was hammering in her head and a hot blush crept up her face. Her mouth was still hanging open, but all she could do was stare at him mutely. She knew she needed to say something, explain herself, but she was paralyzed with embarrassment. He regarded her cooly and cocked his head, obviously enjoying her distress.

Well isn't she especially lovely when she's mortified. He let the question hang in the air for several long, glorious seconds and basked in his long-sought advantage. Her heartbeat was the only noise she made in her speechless panic.

With his free hand, he stroked lightly over her cheek and down her chin, which he lifted with one finger, snapping her mouth closed.

"You deny me when I'm awake, yet as soon as I'm unconscious I find myself ambushed?" he chided lightly.

Twisting her arm behind her back, he yanked her down on top of him and brought her ear to his lips. "You don't know what you've just gotten yourself into," he warned darkly. He brushed his cheek against hers like a cat and then raised her a few inches to let his eyes roam her face. He was enjoying every second.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out finally, "I—I shouldn't have come in here."

He wrapped his fingers around her shoulders and in a blur of motion pushed her down flat on her back so that he was propped up above her. "Oh, but you did," he countered wickedly.

"I didn't mea—mph!"

He slammed his hand over her mouth, cupping her face in his palm. With an elegant swivel of his wrist, he turned her head to the side and leaned down to whisper, "Don't bother trying to explain, my little captive. I don't care." And with that, his grin dove into her neck.

Sookie's instinctive gasp trailed into a moan when he only kissed her warm nook instead of breaking the skin.

The sound made him kiss and bite down on her skin harder, like arguing without words. She'd fascinated him from the moment he saw her, decisively and completely. It was beyond frustrating that she wasn't as sure. On the contrary, his certainty only grew with each encounter. Want her, take her . . . keep her?

His attentions were building into a frenzy; he knew she might push him away any minute.

Yield to me.

Her body both tensed and surged against him.

Yes . . .

He ran his tongue from the bottom of her earlobe, upward along the arch of her ear, and over to her cheekbone where he paused to kiss her softly.

Keep her.

The thought spurred his pace on again and he worked his lips down toward her neck, sometimes biting and sometimes sucking her skin into his hungry mouth. The dull pain of his teeth throbbed on her sensitive spots. It was unabashedly aggressive, and her skin turned pink where he devoured her. She felt like a laboratory rat held down at the mercy of a mad doctor.

It occurred to her that she only seemed to experience the pleasure of contact with Eric when she was somehow not in control. Thrown over a shoulder, pinned to a wall, bent over a lap. Why is that? Because I wouldn't choose what he wants if he didn't compel me? Because with Eric I choose surrender, over and over? Because he knows overwhelming me distracts me from thinking about choices at all and weighing the pleasure of being with him against his swaggering bravado . . .

Teeth claimed her neck and then the hollow of her throat. He held her in place with one hand over her mouth, the other pinning both wrists above her head.

. . . his shameless opportunism . . .

His assault moved down her chest to the neckline of her shirt. When he'd turned the exposed skin there a warm pink, he scraped his teeth over her breasts through her shirt and thin bra.

. . . his unscrupulous scheming . . .

He grazed his teeth closer and closer to her nipples, which he nipped hard enough to make her squeal. Feeling the fluctuation in her emotions, he stopped and pulled away.

"Don't fight me, Sookie," he ordered soberly. Releasing her mouth to smooth his hand down the side of her body; he reveled in the shape that was uniquely her. His eyes shamelessly followed his hand, completely unselfconscious in his appreciation of her form. His eyes flicked back up to hers. "You know how this ends," he added with a suggestive half-smile.

Before she could argue, he was on her again, pinning her body beneath his and kissing her hard. His assault was growing increasingly savage, reminding her how dangerous he actually was. He was being rougher than he'd been with her before and didn't let her breathe until he could tell she truly needed it.

When he finally paused, she was panting.

"Eric . . ."

"Shut up," he cut off quickly and kissed her again. Taking her t-shirt by the collar, he ripped downward in one fell swoop, leaving behind a tear that exposed her breasts to him. His ministrations on them danced on the cusp between satisfyingly rough and almost painful.

Her fear was rising, tinged not only by her own lust but by his need, which pierced her through the bond. His body was immovable against hers, and she couldn't help but rub herself against it, to feel more of him. Even through her jeans, she felt his cock, heavy on her leg and she inched herself slightly underneath him so that it was touching the apex of her thighs.

He wrapped his left arm around her and, with his other hand, unfastened her jeans. They were old and worn and he pushed his hand inside them easily. She was unconsciously bucking against nothing. He squeezed her pussy and her hips pushed up into him and off the bed. He constricted around her ribcage, restraining her against himself, and rubbed her through her panties in rough circles.

"Wait—" she said between moans, "I—ah!"

But he only got harsher, manhandling her and molesting her pussy cruelly. She could really tell how much stronger he was and felt like a ragdoll in comparison.

Then in a bolt of alarm, she realized that, for the first time, she didn't have the failsafe of uninviting him. She was in his house, and he had every advantage. What if he saw their constant battles as an intentional tease? What if she'd pushed him past patience? This could get bad so fast. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream.

"Eric, wait!"

But he'd had enough. It was simple: her desire for him was strong enough to override anything else. And he could prove it. In a blur, he was off of her and standing. Thinking he was complying with her protest, her eyes flashed up at him in surprise and a pang of regret ran through her body. But he was remarkably calm.

"Take off your clothes."

Her expression twisted into one of confusion.

Catching her breath, she tried to reason, "Eric, maybe—"

"Shut your mouth. Take off your clothes," he commanded evenly and walked away from the bed toward the credenza. She stared at him, taken aback, but he didn't turn around, just opened a drawer and took out what he needed.

He wasn't forcing her or overpowering her, wasn't manipulating her. He was calling her bluff. No one's making you do anything you don't already want to do. You could leave. But you won't.

It was the first time he'd made his point not with a deluge of sensation, but the total absence of it. Go ahead, make a decision now with no distraction to blame it on. We both know it will be the same.

He sauntered back to her and beckoned her to the edge of the bed with a gesture.

For a moment she hesitated. He raised an eyebrow in her direction, and she slowly crept to him, finally sitting on her knees.

"Good girl," he smirked. He wrapped his hand around her throat gingerly and stroked her skin with his thumb. "You know . . . and I know . . . that you very much want to be here. I'm tiring of your obstinance." He massaged her neck, gripping and releasing it. He grasped her at the nape, then worked his hand forward.

"You like what I do to you . . ." he continued. Sookie closed her eyes and let her head drift to the side. "You like it so much, that every time you see me, you hope—in your gut—that it will lead to exactly this."

He ran his thumb over her lips for emphasis. She was lost in the feel of his hands on her, and he tightened his grip around her neck. "Don't you?" he growled.

Sookie nodded. What was the sense in fighting? It was true; she wanted him.

His fingers softened and began soothing her again. "And when you don't see me . . . you hope you will."

She nodded again.

"Good. Now do as I say."

Looking down at her ripped clothes, she stopped thinking and gave in. He'd made it so easy to. Her muscles unclenched and she let his presence wash over her. All she wanted was to let him take over again.

As she shrugged out of the now huge hole in her shirt, he watched her. A rush of power filled him as she finished sliding her jeans down her tanned legs. She touched the sides of her underwear and then looked up at him.

She noticed for the first time that he was holding a coil of red rope, and he was staring back at her with conviction.

"Those too."

She slipped them off.

When she was fully exposed, he pulled her flush against his chest by the upper arm. Both her palms sought him out, and she placed small, reverent kisses all over his chest. She was letting him consume her, not because it was happening too fast and she was caught up in lust, but because she wanted to. He felt a new emotion blossom in her and he loved it. She wanted to yield. She wanted him. And she understood it.

He let her finish worshiping his torso, then put her back into position an arms length away.

First, he took her hands and placed them together in front of her. He wound the rope deftly around her slender wrists several times, securing them in place, then pulled them above her head. Her wrists were anchored to the headboard and then he attended to her ankles.

Using the same method, he fastened them to the bottom two bedposts, rendering her helpless and open in his bed. Seeing her this way was ultimately gratifying; he'd wanted this for a very long time. Finally she was his completely, held immobile in his bed, like a sacrifice. He could explore her at his own pace, unrushed by her incessant, fickle conscience. He could savor her. But most importantly, he could tease her now the way she'd been teasing him for weeks. It wasn't a punishment, exactly, but turnabout was fair play. Not that he was at all interested in fair play.

He kneeled above her, placing his knees on either side of one bound leg. He began tracing his fingers along her body. Up the thigh he was straddling and over her belly. Leaning forward to rest his weight on one hand, he gently fondled her breasts, cupping them, tickling them slowly, glancing between her curves and her face to enjoy her reactions.

His hand fluttered to her cheek. In this moment, he found her so beautiful. His blunt fingernails traced down her helpless form, paying close attention to the microexpressions that crossed her face as he touched her. He'd never noticed how impossibly soft the sides of her breasts were, how delicate her ribcage felt in his hands. His fingers mapped her tapered waist and the hollow of her abdomen where her hips flared. She sucked in when he traversed below her navel and over her parted lips.

"This is all mine. I will memorize every inch of you."

By now she was desperate for him as he ghosted his hand up and down the crevice between her spread legs. Thrusting up into his hand, she moaned in response, trying to get traction, but the harder she pushed up into him, the lighter his touch became.

"Patience, my dear . . . after all, you don't really have a choice."

Sookie wailed in frustration. Eric only chuckled at her torment.

He slid a single finger inside her and she cried out, desperate for more. His moistened finger slipped out of her and up to her nub, circling it much too lightly.

But she knew better than to complain again, it would only prolong her agony. It was even harder not to whine when his hand left her as he stood again and walked to the credenza. When he returned, her lust flipped into anxiety.

"Is that a whip?" she asked, still squirming even in her worried state.


"Are—are you going to hurt me?"

"Only a little."

He also had a blindfold, which he tied around her eyes tight enough that she felt the pressure on her eyelids. Her face twisted into a grimace, and her eyes pinched shut beneath their cover.

Oh, she's worried . . . I love it.

He smiled and stroked her belly until she relaxed her face a little. She felt him part her lips and hold them open, not touching her between them, just exposing her to the cool air. She waited to feel the sting, but instead he released her and stepped back.

She heard a low, sinister laugh and then a gentle flick on her thigh.

That's it?

She was surprised he could control his strength with so much precision. The whip came down again, this time on the other thigh. It wasn't painful; it felt like being thumped.

She whooshed out a lungful of air in relief. He smirked at her and flicked the whip down again, this time just on the outside of her labia.

"It doesn't really hurt," she noted aloud, almost innocently.

"That's because," he explained, toying with the whip and then hitting her again, "I'm being very . . . very . . .nice to you."

Her mouth opened slightly, as she adjusted and began to enjoy the sensation.

"But I don't have to be," he pointed out as he smacked two quick, sharp blows to her other outer lip and the soft skin next to her entrance.

"Ah! Ssssshit." She hissed with the sting of it. She hadn't intended to complain, thinking the less resistance she put up, the quicker he would let her come. But that hurt!

"I don't like that," she protested.

"Sure you do." He walked toward her and barely brushed his fingers up her folds so both could feel how wet she was. She gasped quietly in genuine surprise and he smirked in utter lack of it.

This would not be the last time she found herself in this position. And he would certainly push her farther, but not tonight.

The next smacks of the whip were soft again. They landed on her thighs, the exposed part of her ass, and very strategically between her legs. Her body wanted to twist and writhe, but she held still, only moving her hips incrementally in an attempt to feel the contact on her clit. The possibility of what it might feel like scared her a little.

When it finally did connect, she shrieked. She'd been so focused on that part of her body, willing every blow to hit her there, that when it finally did, the pleasure was amplified. He hit it a few more times—his aim was perfect—and each time, she cried and bucked up.

He dropped the whip to his side and walked the few steps to her, reaching out and rubbing her the way she'd been craving. Through the bond, he could tell she was close. His touch on her was firm and purposeful, and in moments, she was hurtling toward release.

"Ahhh!" She screamed as the sharp pleasure of release took over her consciousness. She rode his fingers, and each stroke gave her exactly what she needed. Two fingers slid in to her, causing the last moments of her orgasm to feel deep and satisfying.

As she finished and all her muscles liquefied, she felt him kiss her face softly. The blindfold loosened and fell away as her eyes readjusted to the light. Happiness filled her at seeing his face again.

He left his hand perfectly still between her legs as he kissed her cheek and then her lips. Their eyes reconnected and he saw more tenderness from her than had been there before. It pained him to realize how much he wanted her.

He moved to untie her wrists. Until that second, she hadn't felt the soreness in them, but it felt wonderful to have them freed. With another shift, he was between her legs. He began lapping at her slowly, avoiding her clit and focusing on her entrance.

"Mmmm . . . I . . . Eric, I just . . ."

He hummed into her folds, enjoying her. "Don't worry, lover, I'll let you simmer for now," and he returned to licking her, so slow and wide that it didn't lead her up toward a climax; it simply felt good, and she relaxed into the intimacy of it.

When he'd had his fill, he sat up and untied her ankles. Unexpectedly, she reached for him and pushed him down gently, crawling into his arms and burying her face in his chest. It was unmistakably . . . loving. Her arms wrapped tight around him, as if she couldn't get enough.

He rolled them both, so he was on top of her. "You're my lover," he said, staring into her face. It wasn't a question.


"You will come to my bed—willingly. And when you are not in my bed, you will still be my lover."


He smiled very broadly and rubbed his body along hers. "And I am . . ."

She smiled back, "and you are my lover too." She playfully emphasized the antiquated word.

"Say it again," he said seriously.

"You're my lover, Eric."

And with that, he plunged into her with a satisfying crash. She wouldn't have thought she was ready again, but feeling him impale her was its own special addiction and rendered her instantly voracious.


"You are mine," she whispered as she sought out more of him with abandon.

He growled and thrust into her again, filling her and making her head roll back. He always felt so good inside her. Like satisfying a deep ache she didn't know she had. Every time. She was grinding up against him, but he wrapped one arm under her and controlled her hips exactly as he wanted them.

Holding her close, he slammed into her again and again, drowning himself in her. He took one of her hands and brought it down to her clit, which she started rubbing as he held her in place and fucked into her hard.

He began to come, and she was right behind him. He was growling like an animal as he pumped two pulses into her and pulled out just as he fell over the edge, pressing the tip of himself into her nub with her fingers moving around him and slathering her with the last of his release.

Her hand suddenly moved easier over her now slick folds. Tension coiled in her stomach and then exploded outward as she lost control. The thought of his cool fluid guiding her movements was an unexpected trigger for her, and the ripples of her pleasure ebbed to suddenly surge again with a jolt. Her peak sustained itself much longer than usual and as she rode it out, Eric watched her, transfixed. He'd never seen anything more arousing.

He idly brought his middle finger to her entrance and very slowly traced the outside, dipping in only by a fingertip. The flutter of his hand drew her pleasure out and she growled when it finally released her. As her hand slowed, so did the waves of satisfaction rolling through her until she was coming down in rough shudders, still spreading him into her folds weakly.

When her fingers came to a stop, he took her by the wrist and pulled her over his chest to lie on top of him. As she settled, he began stroking her back and combing his fingers through her hair.

"Three days is far too brief, I think I shall keep you here indefinitely," he mused lightly.

"Hey now," she smiled sluggishly into his downy chest hair, "don't go pushing your luck."

"Luck?" he repeated, a little less amused. "I meant what I said about—"

"I know," she cut him off with an understanding look, "I know . . . just . . . one step at a time."

"Very well," he said, unwinding again, and closing his eyes. "Why you prolong the inevitable, I will never know. But we can . . .do it your way."

She kissed his chest. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"And if you become unreasonable, I have three hundred more feet of rope."

A long pause fell easily over them.


"Hm?" he purred without opening his eyes.

"Did you hire someone to leave that heart on my porch?"

She rose and fell quick and soft as he chuckled. He brushed his hand through her hair again.

"No, lover," he assured her. "I haven't resorted to emotional blackmail."

She sighed. The bond confirmed he was telling the truth.

"Would have been a good idea though."

The End.

That's it guys! I'm not saying I wouldn't consider writing a sequel, but I had to end this thing somewhere. Many thanks, grateful bows, and my firstborn child to Young Boho who for serious patted me on the head and fixed all the things I originally hated about this chapter. On a related note, I attempted (wait for it) a fan video. To accompany this story, kind of. It's very rough and, okay, occasionally cringe-worthy, but I'd never done anything on iMovie before and was learning as I went! In any case, it's in my profile or you can go to youtube and add: /watch?v=Lj-sDXxRz3M