She didn’t know how much time had passed when he said, “Let’s begin.”
He lifted her, setting her back on the hanging table. He stroked one shoulder, bringing down her bra strap with his fingers. Her nipples went hard immediately. He caressed her other shoulder, drawing that strap down, ran both hands over her breasts, filling his palms with her silk-covered flesh. She arched into his touch.
“Ah, that’s it. Good girl.”
That phrase could always make her shiver. Coming from him it was like a small orgasm shuddering across her skin.
He undid the front clasp, and the bra fell off and into his hands. He set it down, then bent to remove her shoes, pausing to caress her calves, her thighs. He dropped her shoes on the floor and laid his hands on her shoulders once more.
“Lie back now,” he told her, his voice soft, yet no less commanding.
She did as he asked, lying down on the cool vinyl. He stood over her, dwarfing her more than ever, somehow. Perhaps it was his command, or the sense of vulnerability that was always present when she was submitting, magnified now because it was him. Not that she minded. She gloried in it.
“I want you to stay there, to stay still,” he told her.
He turned away and she heard him unzip his toy bag, heard some shuffling around as he unpacked what he needed. She kept doing the deep breathing, trying her best to still herself even as desire poured through her system like a rush of heat.
The other rush was a keen need to be perfect for him. Even as her mind began to float, she was acutely aware of it. It was a part of submission for her—to be floating off into subspace, yet feeling the need to please, to be good for her partner. And now it was nearly overwhelming. But the lump in her throat was fading away, being replaced by this familiar role she knew she was capable of fulfilling. She knew that wanting it to this degree would only make her better for him.
She felt him approach, watched as he lifted her arm, used his brushing fingertips to spread her palm open, bent and placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist before gently drawing it up over her head and sliding a length of rope around it.
She sighed at the tenderness of his touch, at the pure sensuality of the way he was handling her as he looped and knotted the rope, making a cuff around her wrist, leaving a line of rope dangling. He moved around the table and once more he lifted her arm, used his fingertips to stroke her palm open, kissed her wrist, then her palm, sending a shiver of desire through her body. He wrapped the other wrist in the same way, a few loops and knots, leaving a long length of rope trailing.
She felt the tug on one wrist as he slung the rope through a chain link somewhere above her, and her arm drew up and outward. He pulled it a bit tighter before he secured it. She relaxed into the lovely, familiar safety of the rope as he did the same to her other arm. She loved this sensation of calmness mixed with the near frenzy of pleasure and need coursing through her.
Mick.
The rope.
Mick . . .
He moved toward the end of the table and wove more rope around first one ankle, then the other, before he secured them to the chains at the bottom of the hanging table, pulled it tight so that her legs were spread wide.
“So damn beautiful,” he said. “And so gorgeously helpless.”
She smiled. She couldn’t help it. It was exactly what she loved about being bound.
“What shall I do with you now, I wonder?” he mused.
She knew he didn’t require an answer—that the remark was designed to get her mind spinning.
What would he do?
He trailed a finger up the center of her stomach, over her ribs, between her breasts, and her nipples tightened.
“Ah, here’s a good place to start.”
He stroked his fingertips over one nipple, and her sex went damp immediately. When he pinched the hardened flesh between his strong fingers, she groaned.
“Good, Allie? But you don’t have to answer. Your body answers for you.” He kept her nipple pinched firmly between his fingers, making her have to breathe through the pain, eyes closed, as he reached for the other and caressed the tip. Pleasure and pain were a sweet cocktail in her system. Yet the ropes held her safely, giving her something to hold on to.
When he tweaked both nipples hard, she arched up off the table with a gasp, pain lancing into her. But he let go almost right away, stroking and teasing the tender flesh, letting her breath out the pain, take in the pleasure. It was too good. Her pussy was swelling with need.
He pinched again, and she hissed out a breath.
“Inhale,” he instructed her.
She did, and he squeezed harder.
“Oh, God,” she muttered.
“Shh. You can take it, Allie. Look at me.”
She blinked, clearing her vision, and focused on his face, his gaze locking onto hers.
He pinched, twisting cruelly, and she gasped, but his gaze held hers as firmly as his strong fingers held her aching flesh. Pain radiated, brought burning desire in its wake.
“Yeah, there it is,” he said, his tone low. “Your cheeks are going pink, and the same flush is on your beautiful breasts. Your eyes are glittering, the pupils wide. I can feel your need in the heat coming off your body. And your nipples are so damn hard.”
He eased his grip, and she felt the hot rush of blood there as circulation returned. Still watching her carefully, he caressed her nipples again, and pleasure was even more acute, rippling over her skin, deeper, into her belly, her sex.
“Oh . . .”
“Quiet now, Allie girl. Be good for me.” She bit her lip, making him smile. “You know I’ve always loved to see you do that. As if you’re considering your pleasure. Well, I’m considering it, too. Oh, yeah, I am.”
He smoothed a hand over her tight stomach, right down under the silk and between her thighs.
She moaned as his fingers slid in her wet heat. Her thighs trembled when he teased her clit, then slid down and slipped inside her.
“Oh, yes . . .”
His other hand clamped hard over her mouth. “Quiet, my girl.”
She loved the command in his tone, in his hand across her lips, in the way he suddenly pumped his fingers harder inside her. Faster and faster, his fingers curving to hit her G-spot until she couldn’t hold still. She writhed against her bonds, her hips arching into his hand, arms and legs pulling against the rope—she couldn’t help it as pleasure poured through her system, hot and iron-hard. Her sex clenched at his thrusting fingers as he worked her roughly, mercilessly, his thumb pressing down on her clit.
“Don’t do it,” he ordered. “Don’t you come until I say you can, princess.”
She groaned, flexed her toes, her breath hot against his hand still over her mouth.
He kept at it, his fingers surging into her aching pussy, and she was soaking wet, gushing even though she hadn’t come yet. But she was so close she could barely stand it.
“Hold it back. That’s it.”
He kept fucking her with his fingers, stroking her G-spot hard and fast, his thumb causing an almost unbearable pressure on her clitoris. Pleasure crested, and her body arched again.
“Not yet. Hold it back. Hold it,” he commanded.
She groaned, a purely animal sound low in her throat, but she held on to that razor-sharp edge, her body poised. She was panting, her breath burning in her lungs.
“Are you ready, Allie?”
He plunged in hard, drew his fingers out slowly. Pure torture.
She watched his face as he watched her. His gray eyes were glossy. The idea that he was probably hard as stone for her right now passed through her mind, and a new shiver of need coursed through her, making her pussy convulse around his fingers.
“Yeah, you are. Come on then, baby. Come for me.”
He thrust into her and she bucked into his hand. She started to come, and he paused, making her feel as if her entire body were suspended in midair. Then he started again, his gaze hard on hers as he fucked her in quick, pummeling strokes, his fingers burying to the hilt, pulling roughly out, plunging once more.