I jerked back in surprise when his hand touched my ankle, nearly stumbling because the stupid handcuffs left me off balance. He grabbed my hips, steadying me as his low chuckle echoed through the room.
“You’re a jumpy little thing this morning,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice – the bastard.
“You try being trussed up like this,” I shot back.
His fingers dug into my hips, hauling me closer. “If you’re the one doing the trussing, gladly.”
My brief annoyance evaporated. Josh blindfolded and handcuffed. Immediate yes. The possibilities were endless, but the thought that popped into my head and stuck was revenge for the edging he’d given me. I had no idea how to pay him back – I’d never edged anyone before – but I’d always been a good student, and I would spend my time until I got the chance studying up on all the ways to bring a man to the brink of climax and keep him from actually coming.
“I’ll take it from your evil smile that you like the idea,” he said.
I opened my mouth to respond, but he chose that moment to lift my right foot off the ground, and all my focus was suddenly on not tipping over sideways. The hand still on my hip clung harder, helping to keep me upright as he guided my leg over his shoulder. I had to press my heel into his back to find my balance, and it only pulled him closer.
I was just getting used to the position when his warm breath rushed over my sex, and the resulting shiver made my ankle wobble. If not for his other hand returning to steady me, I might have gone over. It hit me then, that if I felt his breath, he’d probably pulled the balaclava off.
“You’re soaked, baby,” he said, his words warm against my skin. “You should see the way you glisten.” I felt the soft brush of a kiss against my upper thigh and nearly moaned. “I thought I’d need to work you up to take the knife, but you got there on your own.”
“You got me here,” I said. “I’ve spent so much time watching your videos that the second I see you, my body is just…ready.”
He leaned his forehead against my lower stomach and let out a tortured sound. “Fuck, Aly. You can’t tell me things like that.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because every time I see you, I’m gonna know you’re wet for me,” he rumbled.
“It might be this blindfold, but I don’t see the problem here.”
He huffed a laugh and shook his head, the feel of his hair against my skin confirming the mask was gone. “We have the next two weeks off together. Now that I know that, all I want to do is keep you locked in this house, naked.”
“Smash. Next question.”
He shook beneath my leg as he chuckled, and I tottered again. He felt it and tightened his grip, pulling his forehead from my stomach and dropping a kiss on my raised thigh. “How do you do that?” he asked. “Make me laugh even as I fight the urge to take you to the ground and fuck you?”
Oh, good. So it went both ways. “It must be a talent we share. Also, you don’t have to fight the urge.”
“I do,” he said. “We’ll get there eventually, but I have plans for you before then, and I’m nothing if not patient.”
“A talent we do not share.”
“I see that,” he said, breath hot against my core again.
I felt him take a deep breath, all the warning I had before he let out another low groan and leaned in, fastening his lips around my clit. He swirled his tongue across it and then sucked. I shuddered, and he gripped my hips harder and slid his tongue lower, lapping at my entrance. From the slick sound it made, I was even wetter than I realized, damn near dripping for the man.
“You taste incredible,” he said, slipping his tongue as deep as it would go.
My body tried to clamp down on it involuntarily, seeking resistance, needing something bigger and harder filling it up. He angled it and stroked back out in a way that had my toes curling before he circled my clit again. Then his lips clamped down, and he sucked, and I dug my fingernails into my palms, probably leaving half-moons in my skin from how hard I was squeezing my fists. This was amazing, but I needed more. Shallow stimulation wasn’t going to do it for me right now. He either needed to keep those lips where they were or let me sit on that knife.
I blinked. Yup. I just had that thought.
As if he could sense my need, Josh sucked harder, and I lost the ability to think at all. My head fell back, cuffs digging into my wrists as I strained against them. I wanted to reach out and thread my fingers into his hair, hold him in place against me while I rode his face. Maybe if I used some self-defense moves, I could take him to the ground instead. Unfortunately, with my hands shackled, there were only so many I could perform right now, and none of them ended with me straddling his face.
A pop sounded as he released me and went back to stroking his tongue over and around my clit. One of his hands shifted from my hip, sliding across my thigh before snaking between my legs. He teased my entrance with his fingertips, coating himself in slickness while his tongue laved at my sensitive bundle of nerves. I was so desperate to feel something, anything inside me, that I nearly sobbed as he pushed two big fingers in.
God, that felt good, and if he kept this up, it would be more than enough to get me off.
He crooked his fingers inside me in a “come here” motion like he’d used earlier, hitting a spot that left me gasping.
“My leg will give out if you do that again,” I warned.
He pulled his mouth off me just enough to whisper. “Then you should take a seat.”
Oh, lord. This was happening. I was about to ride a knife handle while blindfolded and handcuffed. I should have been petrified, but all I felt was anticipation of what was to come.
Fingers still inside me, Josh let go of my hip and guided my leg off his shoulder. I felt steadier back on two feet. Right until he crooked his fingers again, and my knees wobbled. He took advantage of my unbalance by putting his shoulder into my pelvis. Caught off guard, I tipped forward. His fingers slid out of me, and he wrapped his arm around the back of my thighs and stood with me sprawled over him like a sack of potatoes.
It shouldn’t be sexy. It really shouldn’t. But the fact that he hefted my weight like it was nothing made me go all mushy inside. I was a bigger woman, tall, broad, muscular. Part of me had always been jealous of those videos of petite women getting picked up by their partners, and inside, I was squealing that it was finally my turn.
He took a few steps and dropped back to one knee to set me on my feet.
“The corner of the bed is right behind you,” he said. “I’m going to guide you down. The knife handle has a thick guard on it, and the blade is stuck deep enough that it shouldn’t move, but I’m still going to keep a hand under you, both as a barrier and to hold it in place.”
“But your hands are hurt,” I said.
“I like the pain.”
Oof. That declaration was as hot as it was fucked up.
“Okay,” I managed, barely above a breathless whisper.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he told me, stroking his fingers through my folds once more. I gasped as he clamped them around my clit, having flashbacks to the edging. “This pussy belongs to me now, Aly, and I protect what’s mine.”
And they said the perfect man didn’t exist.
“Yours,” I agreed.
He made a masculine sound of approval and released his hold on my clit so he could place both hands on my hips and push me gently backward. I took a cautious step and then another, stopping when the back of my knees hit the bed.
“Sit. Slowly,” he said.
I did as he bade, grateful for all the leg workouts that gave me the control to manage this. It was just like a tempo squat, where –