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“Not knocking. Just…surprised,” I admitted as his breath went hot against my neck, long arms looping around me.
“Just, relax. Trust your hands—and me—and let your instincts take over. It’s not like the clay is going to bite… hopefully.”
I snickered, my limbs a little shaky as I leaned back into his chest, anchoring myself in the heat of him. I’d give it to Broderick, for a man who thrived on routine, he did spontaneous surprises rather well.
“So, if I end up with Dumbo, the misshapen blob, I blame the blindfold?”
“Precisely.”
I turned my face to the side, where his lips brushed over mine, listening as he moved around my body. Something whirred to life—I assume he’d woken up our wheel—and then wet kneading sounds told me he was prepping the clay. Every so often, his stubble grazed over my cheek, or his lips brushed over the shell of my ear, sending goosebumps down my arms.
“Ready?” he breathed softly as Listen To Her Heart took over on the speakers and I gave a little shrug.
With mock bravado, and absolutely no expectations to speak of, I quipped, “Tell the clay to prepare to be dominated.”
Sliding his hands around the back of mine, Broderick ran what felt like his thumb across my knuckles. “That’s the spirit, baby. Let’s see what kind of masterpiece we can create… or destroy,” he said with a chuckle.
“A disaster-piece is more like it,” I muttered, but still followed his lead as he brought my hands forward. My nose wrinkled when he led my palms around the wet ball of clay, the slick blob melding where we softly braced around it as it spun against my hand. “That’s fucking weird,” I said, but followed his lead as Broderick’s fingers gently guided mine into the cool, silky mass as it yielded beneath the pressure. A chill wracked down my spine as goosebumps pricked across my skin.
“Who knew all I had to do was blindfold you, and you’d be rendered silent?” he whispered, nipping at my earlobe.
“Throw in some ice cubes and candles, and you have inspiration for later.”
“Noted,” he chuckled. “Do you always just say what you’re thinking?”
“It’s been my rule of thumb for quite some time now, and I find it serves me well. You certainly seem responsive.”
“Baby, you could ask me for just about anything, and I’d break my back to comply.”
“Please don’t,” I quipped. “I quite like you exactly as you are, spine and all.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“The feeling is mutual. Here, relax your hand.”
Breath quicker than the situation warranted, I did. Silencing my mind, I followed his lead, allowing Broderick to guide my hands, my thumbs, each finger against the smooth surface as a subtle, wet squelch and rush of material told me we were making larger changes.
“Good girl, just like that.”
I barked an obnoxious laugh before regaining control of my faculties. “This is not a scenario where I ever expected hearing those words from your lips.”
“Do I not praise you enough in the bedroom, baby?”
“Is there such a thing?”
His breath coasted over my shoulder in a rushed exhale, I assumed in humor, but trusting my ears in the absence of my eyes was daunting. “Apparently not. Because you’re perfect, El. My new life goal will be to make sure you know it.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” I argued.
“Perfect for me, baby. Perfect for me.”
The earthy scent of clay-in-motion filled my nose, and I smiled as I asked, “New life goal, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Not world peace?”
