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“Are you interested in playing with me, little one?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, her tone strong and certain.
A fact that made his cock turn to steel.
“Do you remember your safewords?” he asked.
“Red for stop everything, yellow for slow down but continue, and green for everything is fine,” she rushed out.
Deep satisfaction flowed through him, and he nodded. “I’m adding another one, because until I understand what your new needs and limits might be, I’m going to need to know how your arm is feeling.”
She nodded. “That makes sense, Sir.”
“Good. When I ask if how I’m handling or binding your arm is okay, use red if you want to stop and green if you’re good just as you otherwise would. But if your arm is hurting, or you need me to slow down, back off, adjust something with it, or you’re nearing the edge of your limits in any way specific to your arm, I want you to say black. Got it?”
She gave a small smile, and he realized it was the first he’d seen from her all night. “Yes, Sir. I’ll remember.”
“I can’t tell you how much it pleases me to see you smile,” he said. When his words made her smile grow, he needed to taste that happiness straight from her lips. He leaned in, thinking he’d claimed a quick, deep kiss, but her eyes flared, and he slowed. And suddenly the moment felt weighted, significant. “Use your safewords if you need them, Kenna.”
But, God, he didn’t want her to need them. Not for this. When she still didn’t speak, Griffin hesitated only one more second.
And then he was on her. His mouth on hers. His tongue sinking deep. His hands in her soft blond waves. The moan she unleashed shot straight to his cock and made him want to wring every moan he’d missed these five long years out of her beautiful, curvy body.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he said. When she did, he cupped her ass in his hands and pushed off the couch. “Hang on, little one.”
He made for the adjacent door to the playroom, but, good as it was, that one kiss hadn’t been nearly enough. Not when he was fucking starving.
Pinning her to the wall, he dove back in again. Kissing, claiming, devouring. He ground himself against her pussy, the strangled cry she released around his tongue making his balls heavy and full. “I’m not sure you realize what you’re getting into with me, Kenna. Because I’ve missed the hell out of making you come.”
“Oh, God,” she rasped.
“God can’t save you. Not from me. Not tonight.”
He swung open the door, the motion-activated lights coming on as they moved into the playroom. Others occasionally used this space, but he used it most. He’d designed and installed the furniture, suspension hooks and shackles, and pulley systems in the room for all different kinds of bondage play, and he’d outfitted the storage cabinets with every possible implement he’d need, too.
And he had just the thing in mind, for tonight.
“Feet down,” he said.
The way she slid down him nearly drove him insane, and then he stepped back and considered her suit. It was so fucking sexy that he hated to ruin it, but PVC was a bitch to get on and off.
“I fucking love and hate that body suit right now, little one,” he said, planting a stern expression on his face.
Amusement flashed across her eyes. “Sorry, Sir,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.
A thought came to mind and he retrieved a roll of red Kinesio tape from a cabinet. Tearing a length off he said, “I’m going to allow you the suit. This time. But I need you to tell me where the prosthesis ends and your arm begins. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” she said, lifting her arm as he moved in. “The, um, stump extends about two inches below my elbow.”
“Here?” He held the tape over the black of her suit, hating the way she’d hesitated to describe her limb. When she nodded, he gently applied the red marking around her forearm. He grasped her chin and made sure she was looking at him. “Thank you. Once we start, you have carte blanche—for tonight—to speak. I want you vocal. I want you telling me how I’m making you feel.” He nailed her with a stare. “Don’t let me hurt you. Don’t even let me get close.”
