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It’s a study in patience, the calm before the storm. She shudders as I bind her hands and arms together. Then I hook the end of the rope to the leg of the sofa, tying it in place.
Slowly, I make my way over her flesh, over where she’s tied, letting my mouth and fingers stroke and arouse, and her tremors grow.
She’s wet between her thighs, and she moves her legs even as she tries not to.
I kiss her there, licking up her sweet juices, and she moans loudly.
“Ready, Baby Red?”
TWENTY-FOUR
scarlett
I say the word yes, but I’m both ready for what he’s going to do and so woefully unprepared. He makes me fly and stumble; he turns me inside out. He makes me sing with glee and question my sanity, yet I keep coming back for more.
And right now, I’m so caught in that magnetic spell I can’t stop what’s about to happen.
I want whatever he’s going to give.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t believe he wouldn’t have handed me over to those men. Then again, he’s got a crazy possessive streak, and I’m not convinced, for all his talk, that he’s a sharer.
This isn’t love, this is anything but. However, I’m his property for now.
And I hate myself for loving that fact.
When he touches me, kisses me… all rational thought flies out the window.
And now, oh God, now? I’ve never felt so alive. Never hated and wanted and desired anything or anyone as much as I do now.
“Hold on,” he says, that voice soft and wrapping around me. He flips me around with two hands like I’m featherlight to him, and I land face down, my hands now held tight by the ropes that make my pulse reverberate through me as each thump of it slams against the knots.
My head’s to the side and I almost cry out when I see the things he has on the other sofa. Like the whip.
“No…”
“Is that a real no or a reflex no?” He sighs, the sound touching on exasperation. “Do we need a safe word?”
Do we? “You live on the edge.”
“I like chaos. And I think you do, too.”
He unfurls the whip, dangling it in front of my face for a second before he walks to the back of the sofa. He snaps something, tipping it up, and the back of it comes down like it’s a bed.
“Custom piece,” he says. “I’d prefer to do this at the club or—” He stops, then he trails the edge of the whip over me, and it tickles my skin, making my nerve endings jump and dance.
My clit throbs, as does my ass, the memory of his sharp smacks making my flesh tingle.
Anticipation loaded with dread and excitement in equal measures swirls through my blood, heating me from the inside out. A shiver assaults me, but I’m not cold.
I’m flushed with lust and need.
“So pretty, all this untouched flesh. Waiting for me.”
“Please…”
Then he crouches down in front of me, those green eyes close, that sensuous mouth curled upward. But I can’t reach it. “Yes, we never settled on the words, did we? On whether no means no or yes, and does please mean more or stop? Do we need a safe word?”
Sweat beads on me, popping up, making the shiver race through me as cool air touches my now-damp skin. “If I don’t have one, how will you know to stop when it’s too much?”
