The Short Leash

"You think you can just say yes to anyone?"

Elana flinched, the cupboard door clicking shut with more force than she’d intended. She turned.

Sean stood in the kitchen doorway, filling it, arms crossed over that ridiculously broad chest. His jaw was tight – made him look more hot. Just the way his pecs flexed with that arm cross... Damn.

"What are you talking about?" She tried for breezy, casual. It fell flat, even to her own ears. His eyes, usually a warm, dark brown that made her insides melt, were like chips of obsidian. Cold. Hard.

"Mark," he said, the name a harsh sound in the quiet of his apartment. "From your office." He had her phone in his hand, held loosely, like it was something distasteful.

"Lunch, he wants? Dinner, maybe?"

Shit. My phone. "Umm... I don't remember giving you permission to touch my phone," she stated, trying for firm, but a little tremor ran through her. His anger was a physical thing, a wave hitting her. And damn if it wasn't a turn-on.

He grinned, not a wide smile, just a sharp, predatory quirk of his lips. It didn't reach his eyes. He tossed the phone onto the nearby sofa. It landed with a soft thud on a cushion. "So, we are allowed to look for options?"

Elana turned back to the coffee machine, her hands a little shaky as she reached for the mugs. Play it cool. He likes the chase. He likes the pushback, even if he acts like thunder about it. It was one of the unspoken rules of their… whatever this was.

They weren’t exclusive. He’d made that very clear a few months back when an old flame of his had texted him at 2 AM while she was in his bed. "No strings, Elana," he’d said, his voice flat. It had stung then. Now? It was ammunition.

"It's just lunch, Sean," she said, her voice aiming for light, playful. She managed it, mostly. "And newsflash, we're not exactly exclusive, remember? Your rules, not mine."

She poured the coffee, the dark liquid steaming. Turning, she faced him fully, eyeing him up and down. A shirt would've been nice, polite even. Yet, him standing there, gloriously naked in her doorway, early on a breezy Sunday morning, would never be a bad choice. His body was all hard planes and sculpted muscle from hours at the gym. Not an ounce of softness anywhere. Except, maybe, sometimes, when he… No. Not thinking about that now.

"So yes," Elana said, swaying her hips just a little as she walked towards him, deliberately brushing past his bare side. "I think we are looking for more options." Her skin tingled where it had contacted his.

She picked the two cups from the counter, offering him one. "Coffee?"

His eyes followed her every move, dark and unblinking. He didn't reach for the mug. Instead, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist. Not painfully, but with an undeniable strength that made her breath catch. "Options," he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "You think you have options?"

"I... everyone has options, Sean." Her heart was starting to thump. Oh, here we go. That look in his eyes. Possessive. Intense. The one that always made her panties damp.

He tugged her closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his skin, smell the faint, musky scent of him, sleep and man. The coffee cup in her other hand tilted precariously. "And Mark? Is he a good option?" His thumb stroked the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. A shiver traced its way up her arm.

"I don't know. Haven't had lunch with him yet," she managed, her voice a little breathless now. Don't back down. He likes it when you don't back down.

"Mmm." He took the coffee cup from her hand, placing it, and then his own, on the small counter beside the doorway with deliberate slowness. His gaze never left hers. "Maybe we should explore these 'options' of yours more thoroughly."

His free hand snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his naked body. Her thin robe was no barrier at all. His hardness pressed against her stomach. Oh. A small, involuntary gasp escaped her. His body was so warm, so solid. Fuck, he’s already hard.

"You think so?" she whispered, head tilting back to look up at him. His face was close, his eyes boring into hers. She could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his nostrils flared slightly.

"I know so," he growled, his voice like rough velvet. "You like options, Elana? Let's see how many you can handle."

His mouth came down on hers, not gently, not asking. It was a claiming, a branding. Hot and demanding. His tongue swept into her mouth, tangling with hers. Ah... He tasted of sleep and something else, something uniquely Sean. Her hands came up, one splaying on his bare chest, feeling the thud of his heart beneath her palm, the other tangling in the thick hair at the nape of his neck.

The kiss was rough, a battle for dominance she was happy to lose right now. He shifted, backing her against the cool wall of the hallway. The surprise of it, the hardness of the wall against her back and his even harder body against her front, made her moan into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, but only to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw, her throat. "Mark," he bit out, his breath hot against her skin. "Does he make you wet like this?" His hand slid down from her waist, over her hip, and cupped her, right through the thin fabric of her robe.

"Sean..." she gasped, her hips instinctively bucking against his touch. God, yes.

"Tell me," he demanded, his fingers pressing, finding her clit through the material. He rubbed, a slow, agonizing circle. "Would you spread your legs for him this easily?"

"Nngh... maybe..." Liar. But he wants to hear it. His touch was fire. That direct, no-nonsense pressure.

"Maybe?" He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "You're a bad girl." His fingers slipped under the hem of her robe, finding her bare skin. And then, oh fuck, they were sliding into her wetness. Two fingers, just like that. "You're a really bad girl."

Her knees nearly buckled. "Mmm... yes. Are you jealous?" Mostly true, in this moment.

"Well - he isn't making you squirm right now." He deepened the kiss again, one hand still inside her, fingers moving with a devastating rhythm, stretching her, filling her, while his other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back. The wall was cold against her bare shoulders where the robe had slipped. His body was a furnace against her front.

"You like options, huh?" he murmured against her lips, his fingers doing wicked, curling things inside her. "Let's see." He pulled his mouth away, leaving her gasping, lips swollen and tingling. He was still inside her, fingers unmoving for a torturous second. "Where's that phone?"

Her mind was hazy with arousal. "What? I don't kn..." she breathed out.

He slid his fingers out, a wet, sucking sound that made her whimper. "Stay here." It wasn't a request.

She watched, dazed, as he strode to the sofa, naked and magnificent, every line of his body taut with controlled anger and arousal. He picked up her phone. Her heart hammered. What’s he going to do?

He walked back to her, phone in one hand, his eyes glittering. "Unlock it."

She hesitated. "Sean, What are you trying to-"

"Unlock it, Elana." His voice was flat. Final.

Swallowing, she took the phone, her fingers fumbling slightly as she typed in her passcode. The screen lit up with Mark’s message still on top.

He took it back. "Good girl." He scrolled for a second. "Ah, here we are. 'Hey Elana, had a great time chatting at the coffee machine. Would love to take you to lunch. Let me know if you’re free next week. Mark.'" He read it out loud, his voice dripping sarcasm. Then he looked at her, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "What were you going to reply, huh? Were you going to tell him how 'free' you are?"

Her breath hitched. His eyes were burning. This is insane. And so fucking hot. "I… I hadn't decided."

"Hadn't decided." He smirked. He put the phone screen-up on the small hallway table next to her. "Let's help you decide." He leaned in, caging her against the wall again, one hand on either side of her head. "Every time you think about Mark, or your 'options'…" His hips ground against hers slowly. "…you're going to tell me. And I'm going to remind you who you belong to."

"I don't belong to—"

His mouth covered hers again, rougher this time. He kissed her like he was trying to devour her, to erase any thought of anyone else. His knee nudged her thighs apart. Wider. He didn’t have to say it. His body language was a command. She complied, her legs trembling.

Then, his hand was at her robe again, not gently. He tugged the tie loose, the fabric falling open. Her breasts were bare to his gaze, her nipples already tight pebbles. God, the way he looks at me. Like he owns every inch.

"Pretty," he growled, his thumb brushing over one nipple, making her gasp. "Mark ever going to see these?"

"Sean, stop..." But she wasn't pushing him away. Her body was betraying her, arching into his touch.

"Stop what? Giving you what you want?" His fingers closed around her breast, squeezing just a little too hard, a shock of pleasure-pain that shot straight to her core. Ah! "You like it rough, don't you? You like it when I take control because you can't control yourself."

He was right. Damn him.

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to circle her nipple. Oh fuck... his tongue… She cried out, a raw sound. His mouth closed over her, sucking hard. One hand still kneading her other breast, the other finding its way back down, between her legs.

"So wet," he murmured against her skin, before moving to her other breast, giving it the same brutal, exquisite attention. His fingers slipped inside her again, two, then three. Stretching her. Mmm… deeper.

"Tell me about Mark," he said, his voice muffled against her breast. His fingers moved inside her, a slow, deep fuck. "What's he like?"

"I… I don't know him well," she gasped, her hips starting to move, chasing his hand. More. Faster.

"But you were considering it?" He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. His fingers stilled inside her. No! The sudden cessation was agony. "An option. To replace me, maybe?"

"Haha. Maybe.. ah," she cried, loving how desperate he sounded. But the thought of him stopping…

"Wrong answer." His lips curved into a cruel smile. His fingers resumed their dance, quicker this time, hitting that spot, her spot, over and over. "Now, I think you need a more permanent reminder about choices."

He pulled away, leaving her trembling, aching. He went into his bedroom, just off the hall. She could hear him opening a drawer. What now? He came back, and in his hand was one of his silk ties. Black.

Her eyes widened. Oh, this is new. A thrill, sharp and illicit, shot through her.

"Hands behind your back," he ordered, his voice soft, dangerous.

She hesitated for only a second. The look in his eyes, the promise of what was to come… She turned, placing her hands behind her back against the cool wall. He was there instantly, his body pressing into her from behind, his chest against her shoulder blades, his erection nudging the small of her back. He gathered her wrists, his fingers strong and sure as he wound the tie around them, pulling it tight. Not painful, but utterly secure.

"Perfect," he breathed into her ear, his lips brushing her lobe, sending shivers down her spine. He turned her around again, pushing her back against the wall. Her arms were trapped, useless. Her breasts were thrust forward, exposed. Her core throbbed with an almost unbearable ache.

He stepped back a little, admiring his handiwork. That dark gaze raked over her, from her flushed face, down her body, to her exposed sex, slick and open for him. "Now. Where were we? Ah, yes. Options."

He picked up her phone again. His thumb scrolled through Mark's messages. "He says he liked chatting with you by the coffee machine." Sean's voice was dangerously mild. "What did you talk about, Elana?"

His free hand came up to cup her chin, tilting her face towards him. His thumb pressed lightly into her lower lip. "Tell me."

"Just… work. A project," she stammered, acutely aware of her vulnerability, of the slickness between her legs. The air felt charged.

"A project." He smiled, that cold, sharp smile. "While I was fucking you so hard this morning you couldn't string a sentence together, you were thinking about 'projects' with Mark?" His hips gave a small, predatory thrust, not touching her, but a promise.

This man… He was going to drive her insane. "No! I wasn't—"

He advanced, his body brushing hers. "Open your mouth."

It was a soft command, but it brooked no argument. She parted her lips.
Instead of a kiss, his thumb slipped inside. Not deep, just resting against her tongue, pressing it down slightly. A small, dominant act. Oh. It made it hard to speak, a subtle gag.

His other hand went to her breast, fingers teasing her nipple, pinching lightly. Ah… Mmm.

"You're going to listen, Elana," he said, his voice low, right by her ear. His thumb moved in her mouth, a slow circle. "Mark thinks you're… available."

He moved his hips, just a fraction, so the head of his cock brushed against her clit. A jolt went through her. Fuck!

"Is he right?" he murmured, his breath hot. His thumb pressed harder. His fingers pinched her nipple more insistently. His cockhead rubbed her again, a deliberate, maddening tease. Fuck… don’t stop…

She tried to shake her head, a strangled "Mmph" escaping around his thumb.

"Words, Elana. Use your words." He didn't remove his thumb, but lessened the pressure slightly. His fingers on her nipple were relentless. His cock was still just there, a solid heat against her most sensitive spot, not inside, just torturing her with proximity.

"N-no," she managed, her voice thick. God, his thumb in my mouth… and his fingers… and that pressure… Her whole body was a live wire.

"No, he's not right? Or no, you don't want me to stop?" His eyes gleamed. He knew. He fucking knew.

He leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek, then her ear. "I could call him," he whispered, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, chilling softness. "Right now. While my thumb is in your mouth and my fingers are making your pretty little nipple hard. While you're tied up and soaking wet for me. What do you think he'd say?"

Her eyes shot wide. He wouldn't. A fresh wave of horrified arousal washed over her. The sheer audacity.

"Or," Sean continued, his lips now at her temple, his thumb still a heavy presence in her mouth, "maybe I just read his texts aloud. All of them. While I do… this."

With his other hand, he reached down, his fingers spreading her wet folds. He didn't go inside. Instead, he found her clit directly, his thumb starting a slow, firm circle. Right on it. Relentless. Her breath hitched. Her hips jerked.

Oh God, oh God, oh God… The combination was overwhelming. His thumb in her mouth, silencing her, controlling her. His fingers on her breast, a point of sharp, continuous sensation. And that thumb on her clit… it was too much. Almost.

"Which one, Elana?" he murmured, his own breath becoming a little harsher. "Do we share with Mark? Or do I just keep you all to myself, reminding you what real pleasure feels like? What happens when you entertain… options?"

Each word was punctuated by a movement of his thumb on her clit, harder, faster now. Her vision was blurring. Her bound hands pulled at the tie, a useless gesture.

"Sean… please…" she mumbled around his thumb, tears pricking her eyes. Not from pain, but from sheer, unadulterated, frustrated need. Please fuck me. Please just…

He took her phone from the table with his clit-tormenting hand, somehow managing to keep the pressure going while he fumbled with it, holding it up so she could see the screen. Mark’s smiling profile picture.

"Look at him, Elana," Sean commanded, his voice a rasp. "Look at your 'option'."

And then, while his thumb still circled her clit, driving her absolutely insane, and his other thumb was still in her mouth, he used his now free fingers of the phone-holding hand – the ones that weren’t holding the phone against her vision – to dial Mark’s number.

Her world stopped. No. Fucking. Way.

The dialing tone. It sounded impossibly loud in the charged silence, over her own ragged breathing and his. One ring. Her heart leaped into her throat, a scream trapped behind his thumb.

Two rings. He’s actually calling him! While he’s… while I’m…