The Switch by Christine Denham Page A

desire out loud. Instead, he tightly laced his fingers over
hers so she couldn’t break free, giving a pointed a squeeze in
reply.
    Let me loose. Let me touch you.
    “Make me come,” she demanded, but the
undercurrent of desperation in her voice betrayed her position.
    Grayson responded by nuzzling his face into
her sex, finding that elusive button of flesh and wrapping his lips
around it in a show of good faith.
    “Oh, yes,” Marion moaned.
    Her reaction was premature; he simply held
her there, applying enough suction to that sensitive point of
nerves to keep her teetering on the edge. They dangled in stalemate
for what felt like minutes, though it was likely seconds. Again, he
gave her hands a squeeze, harder this time.
    “ Okay .”
    With that one whispered resignation, Grayson
swore his heart stopped. Then, as if someone had injected the
finest drug into his system, a rush of anticipation and power swept
through his being. The tables had turned, and bless her little
heart, she probably didn’t even realize it.

Eleven
    As
soon as he released her fingers, she unclasped the leather cuffs.
“Now,” she gritted out, but was interrupted by Grayson’s quick
fingers and quicker mind. What seemed one moment to be a greedy,
frantic embrace quickly turned into a victorious overthrow. The
leather cuffs snicked around her slender wrists before she had a
chance to register what was happening. It wasn’t until he’d slid
out from under her that she seemed to realize what he’d done. By
then, he was already securing her ankles to the cuffs dangling from
the posts at the foot of the bed.
    It was hardly fair, he knew. He’d tricked
her into thinking he was all subby and docile, using the element of
surprise to get the better of her. But then, when had he ever
played fair?
    He also knew he was taking a risk, gambling
that she wouldn’t simply want to kill him outright for this. Or
worse, laugh in his face before blabbing his secrets to everyone
they knew. Then again, they both held each other’s secrets now,
didn’t they?
    “Grayson Alexander Jones,” Marion said in a
strangled voice, “what the fuck do you think—”
    She was cut off by the sharp crack of flesh
on flesh, letting out a startled yelp as Grayson’s hand came down
across one exposed ass cheek. A smile of admiration tugged at the
corners of his mouth as the dusky, smooth flesh blushed darker at
the contact point. He ran his hand over the curve of her hip and
around the back of her thigh, a pleased rumble escaping his throat
as she moved ever so slightly into his touch.
    “You will speak only when I say you may,
Marion.” He made his voice hard and cool, even as his fingers paid
a loving caress to that heated juncture between her legs.
“Understand?” he added, giving a sharp pinch to one of her outer
lips.
    A sharp gasp and a fruitless wriggle were
her response. “I – I don’t know what you--,” she began.
    Another crack on her ass elicited a squeak.
“Yes. Understood.”
    He smirked. There would be no ‘Master’ from
her lips, he knew, and that was fine. Titles and formalities meant
little to him, even in the bedroom. What he wanted were actions,
not words.
    “Your safeword,” he said thoughtfully,
glancing around the dim bedroom. His eyes landed on a familiar
glass sphere – a gift he’d brought her from his trip to Boston,
when he’d been considering colleges. “Is snowglobe,” he finished.
“Can you remember that?”
    She nodded mutely in reply, but didn’t
actually utter the word. Something in Grayson’s chest went warm at
this unspoken consent. He hadn’t been sure, after all. And now that
he had his answer- good god. She truly was his dream woman.
    Best birthday gift, ever.
    He slid his finger inside her wet folds,
humming in satisfaction when she whimpered and tried to press into
his touch. She’d been desperate enough to fuck up and release him,
and she was still that desperate – possibly more so. She seemed
even wetter