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I bring both hands to his head. Tug at his hair.
He looks up at me with his eyes on fire. He's assessing me. Figuring something out.
But what?
I don't know.
He nods. "Hands over your head."
Slowly, he shifts off my body. He reaches into the bedside drawer. Pulls something out. A pair of padded black handcuffs.
My breath catches in my throat.
It's so fucking hot, Brendon holding handcuffs.
He slides them over my wrists then pulls, then slides two fingers under the right cuff. Pulls them tight.
Does the same with the left.
I shift my wrists, testing the restraints. They're not tight enough to hurt, but they're tight enough to keep me bound.
I can still move my arms.
But...
He moves to the foot of the bed. Stares down at me. "Those stay over your head. Understand?"
"Or?"
"Or I stop."
No... anything but that.
I nod. I understand. And, God, I want it too.
I want all of him.
He climbs back onto the bed.
Plants between my legs.
Slowly, he drags his lips up my inner thigh, over my sex, down my other leg to the inside of my knee.
He traces his path. Again. Again.
Again.
He gets harder.
Harder.
Fuck, I'm aching.
I need him.
I need to come.
