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Just like he makes me wait. Two can play at this game.
When he groans again, more urgently, I let more of his length into my mouth, my hand squeezing harder around his base, which is now deliciously slippery. I start gradually bobbing my head to the same rhythm as my palm, which is gliding up and down. I add another hand and twist them in opposite directions, wrapping around his girth. Alistair’s breathing becomes louder. He puts a finger under my chin to lift my face to his, and we keep eye contact as I lick and suck him.
I groan, too. I love the feeling of him inside my mouth. I love the feel and the heft of his cock, so hard but with skin so soft. The way it slides in and out, almost touching the back of my throat, as my tongue whirls around it, and my suction and grasp grows harder and harder.
Alistair growls. He can’t stay still. He begins slowly fucking my mouth and I love it. I take him deeper and his head falls back as he moans.
“Ivy,” he whispers. “Ivy.”
I’m so turned on now that I think I might come, but I don’t want him to. I need him inside me.
As if reading my mind, he stops rocking in my mouth.
“Your turn,” he says.
I am so desperate for him that I want to say I want nothing else but his big, beautiful cock inside me. But then I remember the agreement.
The agreement was not about taking the easy way out, it was about being open and curious and trying new things. If I only have five nights left, we don't have a moment to lose. As much as I want him to just start pounding into me, as much as I know that I would come quickly if he did so, that was not what we had agreed on.
I take a breath and wait for further instructions.
“On your back,” he orders.
I do as he says. He brings out a black leather bag with a golden padlock. He enters the combination on the lock and it snaps open. The sound of the bag zipping open both scares and delights me. Now that I think about it, that pretty much sums up how I feel about Alistair Ravenscroft, too.
Scared.
Delighted.
I just hope he takes it easy on me.
He brings out some pieces of fabric; wide black ribbons. I don't know what they’re for, but they don't look too dangerous. He grabs my wrists and uses the fabric—which turns out to be satin-backed Velcro—to restrain my arms. He does the same to my ankles, and then snaps out a spreader bar and fixes it to my knees to keep my legs wide open. Next comes a satin swatch that he uses to cover my eyes.
I am plunged into darkness. My heart races. I know I'm safe because I'm with Alistair, but there is still something inside me that is freaking out just a little. The darkness makes me feel more in my body. There are no glimmers of distraction, just what I can feel and smell and hear. What I hear is Alistair rifling through his special bag of tricks. Apprehensive, my stomach tightens.
Okay, I say to myself. This is new. It's not too scary. I can handle this.
"You're okay?" asks Alistair.
"Yes," I say. "Go slow."
“Oh, I plan to,” he replies, his gruff voice making my body hum in anticipation.
It's an odd sensation, this pushing and pulling inside me. This nervousness coupled with desire. Is this what Alistair means when he says to remain curious? To be open?
I am startled out of my racing thoughts when I feel warm oil being drizzled all over my breasts and stomach. Next, Alistair’s masculine warm hands are all over me, sliding with the oil, massaging and kneading my body.
“That feels incredible,” I purr.
“I love touching you,” he says. “This body … this skin. I can’t get enough.”
His hands are so practiced, so confident as they work my body into what feels like a mound of jelly. There’ll be nothing left of me after this, I think. Every part of me is alive and awaiting his next caress. His palms cup my breasts, his fingers tweak my nipples.
I moan in surprise and pleasure.
But then I feel something different, something that is not his fingers. An acute pressure on my nipples that has nothing to do with his hands.
Nipple clamps! They always look so painful to me. I may not know my kinks, but I know that S&M is not one of them.
