NIGHT OWL REVIEWS TOP PICK - 4.5 STARS: "Fit to be Tied is the second book in The Mansion series by Leah Michaels. This book is part of a series but can be read and enjoyed as a standalone novel with ease. Mikhail Azarov is at a cross roads in his life. His long-term undercover case is finally over and he is free to be himself once again. He still remains haunted by the things he has seen and done. The dreams of his past, a wife and children are no longer realistic. Well that is until Abigail Mallory walks into his life. Abigail Mallory is the event planner at The Mansion. She has kept an eye on Mikhail during his stay at The Mansion. When Mikhail finally makes his move, the connection between them is almost searing. The sex scenes are intense and inventive. I loved how Mikhail can push at Abigail’s boundaries. I found Fit to Be Tied very well written and the story came alive within the pages. I had a hard time putting this book down. The main characters and the secondary characters were appealing and fascinating. Overall, this was a fabulous story. I can’t wait to read the next book in the series. Each book seems to get better than the last." -- VRainey, Night Owl Reviews
“Listen to me, baby girl,” James took her chin in his hand and smiled into her eyes. “You’ve watched that man, analyzed him, seen goodness and gentleness in him when even I didn’t see it anymore. So maybe now your body is going to follow territory your mind has been mapping out already. Go with it, maybe it’s telling you something you need to listen to.”
James finished the mask on her face and helped her into her corset of her costume. Walking over to the long mirror of the employee locker room he let her look at herself while he fluffed and fussed over her hair. Smiling, she turned to him, her hand nervously skimming down her skirt.
“It’s amazing, James, the best you’ve ever done.” She hugged him. “But what am I going to do if Azarov is there tonight?”
“One.” James pulled back, “He usually goes to the dungeon rooms and you usually don’t so no biggie there. Two, if he is there you walk past him, pretend to drop something, bend at the waist to pick it up.”
“What!?” James laughed, “You need to give that man a reason to kiss you again and believe me you do that, he’ll kiss you.”
* * * *
Turning several quick corners, Azarov found himself back in the main lobby with no Abigail in sight. That was okay, since she usually went to theme night and as luck would have it, tonight was theme night. Returning to his room, he walked into his closet to see what he could put together for tonight’s festivities. He wasn’t scheduled to DM and he wasn’t going to volunteer to pick up a shift like usual. Glancing through he realized he wasn’t one for dress up. Grabbing a pair of black leather pants, he’d pick up a black mask from the fetish shop downstairs on the way through and be done.
Hopping in the shower, he smiled as he thought about how different tonight was going to be from the previous nights. The more he thought about Abigail the more the weight and frustration inside of his chest lightened. His future was still in question. He had no idea where his life would be in six months. But he knew where he would be in the next six hours and suddenly for him that was enough.
Getting out of the shower, he dried off, pulling on his pants. Looking at himself in the mirror it was the first time in years he didn’t grimace at the tattoos covering his chest, arms, and back. She hadn’t been intimidated or scared of him just now in Edwards’ office. Maybe a little show of the tough guy would make a difference. He was going to need whatever edge he could get. If he wasn’t careful the minx would lead him around by a kiss.
* * * *
Abigail stopped outside of the main lounge, ducking inside the ladies room. Standing at a large full-length mirror she did yet another once over. She’d taken a risk on tonight’s costume. She just loved Masquerade Night so much she couldn’t help but be a little daring. Her mask was painted onto her face with makeup and adhesive jewels. For which she was officially in love with James, because the face paint design made it look like fabric. She’d gone with a peacock theme so her corset was teal and purple with gold accents, lined with short black feathers along the top. The feathers covered her nipples which would have been on display by the low corset. Her skirt, however, was the most daring of all. The fabric didn’t cover her ass but rather stopped just before her cheeks met her thighs. The skirt was covered in sleek black feathers to match the corset. They were again the only things that gave her any cover.
Gliding her hand down her skirt, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to stop, she took as deep a breath as the corset would allow and left the ladies room. Walking through the main doors she paused just inside. Looking around she smiled, she loved masked events at The Mansion, and everyone went all out. The lounge looked like a cross between Mardi Gras and Venice’s Carnival. Running her hand down her skirt a second time in as many minutes, she took another deep breath as her eyes wandered across the room. Then she stopped breathing.
He stood at the bar in nothing but a pair of leather pants and black mask. She knew it was him because…well… she’d know that body anywhere. She’d watched it out of the corner of her eye for the last three months and she’s just recently felt it pressed against her. An event she could still feel burning into her skin and memory. His ink-black hair was just-out-of-bed messy, crystal-blue eyes sparked from behind his mask, that she felt when they found her. Gasping, she pulled in a deep breath when they suddenly captured her and started their journey down her body. Tall, at least six foot three if he was an inch. Broad shoulders, tattoos, oh god, so many tattoos. They covered his chest, upper stomach, over his shoulders and down each arm until about midforearm. One, two, three… She began to count his abs, whimpering when she reached eight.
Abigail blinked her eyes open, the early morning light from her windows causing long deep shadows across her bedroom. The room was quiet, she wanted to close her eyes and drift off again. Stretching she tried to shift her body, attempting to wiggle her hips until she found Mikhail’s heat. What she realized was her arms were bound together, and she could feel the beginning length of his rope on her ankle.
“God, solnishka,” he laughed. “You sleep like the fuckin’ dead. If Frank hadn’t dropped something down the stairs, I’d bet I could have gotten you completely tied before you woke up.”
“It’s your fault,” she huffed as he continued to tie her legs together. “I’m exhausted. Between starvation and sleep deprivation. I’m not sure you’re good for my health.”
“Don’t worry”—he loomed over her, bringing her legs with him, resting them on his shoulder—“I’m very good for your health.”
Reaching up, he tied her bound legs to the headboard of her bed, bending her into an L. She yelped as he gave her ass a slap before getting off the bed. Digging around in the black duffle bag he’d brought back from the hotel and hidden in her closet. He purposefully hid what was in his hands, as he returned to the end of the bed. Her legs blocked her view so she couldn’t see him climb up, and settle himself on his knees at her ass. She jumped when she felt his hands on her pink ass cheek.
“I have a surprise for you,solnishka.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“I don’t like surprises.” She tried to shift her ass away from him so she could see what he had in his hands.
“Too bad”—he smacked her other cheek—“be still.”
She held her hips still but arched her back over, trying to see him. She felt his hands press against her ass, his palms flat on her skin, fingers spread wide. He pressed into her giving her some of his weight, slowly he moved them up over her cheeks, along the back of her legs. Wrapping his fingers around the back of her knees and calves as her legs narrowed, he gripped her ankles and paused. She felt him move his body against her, his arms stretched along her legs, his face just below her knees, his chest against her ass. She felt the heat of him seep into her, warming her skin, and her core. He stayed there for so long she became a little concerned.
“Mikhail?” She bucked her ass up against him to get his attention.
“Your fuckin’ skin,” he mumbled against the seam that joined her legs.
“What?” She tried to shift to the side again to see him and he again stopped her.
“It’s your skin, solnishka.” He moved his head so he could see her around her legs. “It’s so fuckin’ soft and smooth. I could spend hours touching every inch.”
“Mikhail?” She bucked against him again, scared he would do exactly that and knowing she’d go crazy if he did.
“Mmm.” Pressing his face against her again, his tongue following his lips as they glided down the seam of her legs. “Maybe I will.”
“Oh, god,” she whimpered.
He answered her with a husky laugh as he lazily made his way over her skin and down the back of her thighs. His breath, lips, and tongue on her skin moving back and forth against the sensitive skin on the back of her thighs. The direction his breath, lips, and tongue were moving building her heat more and more with each inch. She could feel her juices slicking between her legs as he moved against her, a throbbing ache following when he touched the underside of her ass.
“Mmm,” he mumbled against her legs just over her slick lips. “Delicious!”
Suddenly his tongue drove into her like an arrow, splitting her lips and stretching her core in a single motion. She gasped and arched up against his mouth, his hands wrapped around the back of her thighs, the tips of his fingers at the edges of her pussy, pulling her lips apart, giving him deeper access. The pressure of her legs roped together, his tongue inside of her pussy, his fingers stretching her apart. Her body spiraled up out of her control, sending her crashing into a shattering orgasm. She screamed, pulling the rope securing her wrists to her headboard tight, her nails digging into her palms.
“Mikhail,” she whimpered as her body slowly relaxed.
He didn’t let her body float too far from her peak. Kneeling behind her he guided his cock into her. It stretched her taut in this new position, bending forward so his hands touched the mattress on either side of her head. He slowly withdrew, feeling her pussy grip him, trying to keep him deep, pulling at him to take him back in.
“Fuck, solnishka,” he groaned. His hands fisted in the sheets, his eyes drifting closed. Turning his head to the side he dug his teeth in her calf, hearing her gasp and feeling her cunt spasm around him at his bite. “Oh god, you like that, don’t you? You like my teeth on your body.”
He took his time again, letting himself feel every inch of her body tighten as squeeze around his cock as he pushed back into her. In, a slow sucking pull. Out, a shuttering tightening grip. Again and again he moved reveling in the feel of it. Reveling in her. He listened to her breathing as it shuddered and hissed with each pull and drive of his body.