“Jamie,” she gasped.

“Do you need to safeword, Summer Grace?” He laid his hand on her back, the heat reassuring. “Are the chains too heavy for you?”

“What? No. No. I just had to tell you . . .” She had to pause, to draw in a breath. “I just had to tell you what I’m feeling.”

“Ah, good girl. And what’s that, sugar?”

“It’s like . . . being held. Like being in a corset, only so much more so. They don’t even have to be tight like a corset. It’s the weight of them. It’s safety. I don’t know if this is making sense.”

“Baby, you have no idea how much sense you’re making to me. It’s my chain fetish come to life. Not everyone gets it. But I can see you do. I can see the goose bumps on your skin.” He ran a finger down her spine and she shivered deliciously. “I can see how damn hard your nipples are.” He ran his fingertips over the aching tips, making her moan. “And I can see your surrender to the chains.”

“Yes, to the chains. But Jamie, it’s you I’m surrendering to.”

He was in front of her in a flash, tilting her chin in his hand, capturing her gaze with his green, green eyes. Then he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her. His mouth crushed hers, his hands hard on her cheeks, holding her so she knew she couldn’t escape. She didn’t want to. Her lips yielded to his, opening to his demanding tongue—demanding yet so sweet, so soft and wet. And between her thighs she was wet, desire like a wave washing over her, heating her body up beneath the cool weight of the chains. At that moment her entire world was contrast: warm and cold, hard and soft. The pungent scent of motor oil in the air and the clean scent of Jamie’s skin.

Then he grabbed the chains where they were crossed between her breasts in one fist and yanked her in close, his knuckles digging into her flesh, pressing on the bones. She loved it—his control over her, the way he hit the tender pressure points on her breastbone. The passion with which he kissed her. He kept kissing her as he curved his other hand under the chain at her waist, his knuckles digging in there. Then he released her so suddenly she would have fallen had she not been bound to the frame straightener. He came back moments later with more chain, and her sex squeezed at the sight of the glinting metal links in his strong hands.

Oh, yes, please.

Very quickly he used the clips to attach two more chains to the one at her waist, bringing them under and between her thighs and clipping them to the back of the waist chain, so that it was like a harness. The cool lengths of steel on each side of her damp sex were frightening and intoxicating all at the same time. She wanted the chains to squeeze, to pinch her there. Jamie grabbed the chains around her thighs, sliding them up a bit under her buttocks as he lifted her off her feet.

“Oh!”

“Legs around me, sugar,” he told her as he slipped her shoes off.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her wet, open sex against his taut stomach. She groaned.

“Oh yeah, I love the feel of your sleek little pussy on me.” He lifted her up, then let her body slide down an inch or two, just enough to rub her mound and her swollen clit over his muscled abs. “Do you like that, my sugar girl? You’re going to like this even better.”

He shifted and slipped one of his hands under her, the other still holding her up, and he began to pinch her ass, pausing to slap it, then pinching again before dragging his nails over her skin. She loved it all—the lovely pain, the pace of it. Again he built the intensity until she was panting and squirming and soaking wet, her needy sex sliding against his skin. And all she could think was how badly she needed him inside her, how she never wanted him to stop what he was doing.

Going crazy.

Oh, yes. But a good kind of crazy.

He pinched her harder, going for the same spots over and over again, at that tender juncture where her buttocks joined her thighs, until she started to groan, then to squeal at each hard pinch, her body undulating against him. Pain and pleasure were two sides of the same wicked coin, making her head spin.

“Jamie! Please . . .”

“Please what, sugar?”

“Please . . . God, I don’t know!”

“Ah, but I do.”

He shifted again, letting her body hang in the chains, her legs still locked around his waist. She heard his zipper come down. She was vaguely aware of the sound of a foil packet ripping, but her body knew it in every cell, every raw, waiting nerve. Then his sheathed cock was at the entrance to her body, poised there while he fisted his hands around her chained hips.

“Summer Grace. Look at me.”

She kept her gaze on his, blinking up at him. He was so damn beautiful she could barely stand it as he bit his lip and slammed into her.

“Ah!”

She threw her head back as pleasure drove deep into her body along with his lovely, thick cock. But he let one hip go to grab her hair tight, dragging her head back up.

“I said look at me,” he commanded.

She did, and the intensity of sensation she felt multiplied in mere moments. She was on the verge of coming almost instantly.

Jamie tightened his grip on her hair. “Bite it back, baby. Hang on to it. Let’s drive it higher. I want you to come with me.”

She swallowed her climax down, although it remained a hard buzz in her system, her sex tight with need, tight around his cock. He tilted his hips and thrust deep. She moaned. He did it again. And again and again, one hand gripping the chain at her hip, the other buried in her hair. She was completely taken over as he plunged into her, the plunging turning into a hammering rhythm. He was fucking her so hard only the strength of his hold on her and the heavy chains kept her in place, the metal biting into her skin. Pleasure washed across his face, and his brows drew together in concentration. The green of his eyes began to absolutely glow, the look in them wild in a way she’d never seen before. Primal. Dangerous. Seeing it there made her own pleasure soar, until she was barely hanging on. Her clit was pulsing so hard it hurt.

“Jamie, I can’t . . .”

“You can,” he insisted.

“When?” she demanded. She couldn’t help it.

“Look at me. You’ll know.”

His eyes were a force of their own, pulling her in. And she saw it all there—his own desire, the exquisite, renting surge of sensation. She felt herself nod as she tuned in to him on some incredibly deep level, as though his sensations were her own. Her body moved in time with his, his hips slamming into her, hard, harder, brutally. Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pleasure, his features ragged with it. Then they were coming, both of them crying out.

“Jamie! Ah, God! Yes, yes . . .”

“Fuck, sugar . . . Fuck!”

They shivered, hips crashing together, then slowing, undulating as pleasure peaked, peaked again, then eased like the waves on the shore. Still they moved together, both of them milking their orgasms. Trembling. Panting.

His head dropped to her shoulder. “Jesus, Summer Grace,” he murmured, his Scottish accent thicker than she’d ever heard it in his low, rumbling tone. “You are unbelievable. Just . . .” He paused to draw in a deep breath. “Truly unbelievable, baby. You’re really here with me. Like this. As if we were always going to be here. As if the universe planned this.”

She couldn’t really think. But she knew he was right. “You know what I’ve always thought, Jamie?” she asked him quietly, emotions like a hard shift catching in her chest.

“Except for the last year,” he said.

“No. The only thing that changed was me deciding to step back.”

He caught her face in his hand once more, his hard grip easing bit by bit as he looked into her eyes. Shadows shimmered there, his beautiful eyes going from a dark, mossy green to almost emerald, fevered and brilliant.

“I understand, you know. Looking back, I can’t believe you hung in there as long as you did. But now that we’re here, I want to keep this going. I want to see what we can be. Do you want that?”