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Eric’s bed is fucking huge. It’s got the silkiest fucking sheets and the softest blankets I could have ever imagined, and enough pillows on it that I could sink down into them and never come back up.
This is a bed that I would gladly allow to swallow me fucking whole, I realize as I stretch out my arms decadently. It’s got four posts, one at each corner, and a canopy hanging over—
What the fuck?
Are those shackles?
When I look to Eric to try and figure out what kind of Red Room Christian Grey bullshit he’s pulling here, he’s gone. All that cardio must have paid off, because he moves too fast for me to stop him.
First, he secures my ankles—one in each leather cuff. Before I can sit up and deal with that, he’s got one wrist pinned, then the other.
“Huh,” he says, rubbing the fabric of my shorts between his fingers. “Should have undressed you first.”
“You kinky bastard!” I accuse, even though—fuck me—I’m so horny, I’m grinning from ear to ear. “Weren’t you going to ask before you cuffed me?”
“Would you have said no?” Eric shrugs, opening a drawer of his bedside table and pulling out a pair of sharp silver scissors.
I consider it for a second, keeping an eye on the scissors. “Well, maybe at first—”
“Of course
,” Eric says, moving between my legs on the bed. “You don’t do anything without putting up a fight.”
“I like winning,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Really? I think you like to lose.”
I laugh. “Doesn’t sound like me.”
“Doesn’t it?” Eric slides the fabric of my cute little workout shorts between the scissors, and in one fluid motion, cuts them off of me on one side.
“I think you’ve been begging to lose your whole life, Kara,” he tells me. “I think you’re used to being too much for men—too smart, too funny, too intense, too fucking bright. You cast a wide shadow, and they get lost in it.”
“A wide shadow,” I whisper as Eric’s scissors snip away the other side of my shorts. “Are you calling me fat?” I tease.
“The only thing fat about you are those saucy lips of yours,” Eric says, pulling my shorts away.
And then there I am—with Eric and his huge fucking cock and his shirtless torso between my legs. My cunt is dripping, my clit is twitching, and he still has those sharp fucking scissors—which, for some reason, I also find hot.
“You’re wet,” Eric observes. “Or are we still pretending that you don’t want this?”
“Ugh,” I groan, bucking my hips toward him. “I want it. Of course I fucking want it.”
“Ah,” Eric sighs. He moves over me, stroking my pussy lips with his fingers. “So we’re agreed that I had every right to tie you up here—just so we’re clear.”
“Mmm,” I moan. “Fuck. Yes, okay, fine. I’ve just…oh god, right there—I’ve never done any of this BDSM bullshit before okay?”
I can feel him laugh as he dips his lips to my stomach, kissing across it and lingering in between lip prints. “Is that so? I’m surprised, Kara. You’re a difficult girl to pin down.”
I don’t know if it’s the tickle of his lips against my stomach—I’m not used to being kissed there—or if it’s the bad bondage joke, but either way, he leaves me giggling as he kisses his way down to my cunt.
Tied to a sexy, buff billionaire’s bed. I wish I could tell Fat Kara about this, because she wouldn’t fucking believe me.
This isn’t some smutty romance novel. Girls like me aren’t supposed to get the dude (or dudes, for that matter).
And yet…there Eric is. Mouth poised between my legs. The humidity of his breath lingering over my clit.
“Are you going to lick that, or do I need to call you Master first?” I sass down at him, because Jesus fucking Christ, Eric. I need an orgasm like, now.
