She takes a deep breath. Holds it for a count of three. And when she exhales, she says, “Eeee.”
Green.
She’s safe. She’s mine.
I lock her wrists beside her ankles. She’s in a stress position on the edge of the mattress, her weight on her knees and the fronts of her shoulders. Her face turns to the side, mouth gaping in the O ring, eyes hidden by silk.
She’s naked, soul and body. She’s waiting, because she trusts me. So I do everything I can to reward the faith she’s offered.
Pressing the palm of my hand into her soaked folds, I play the hard, exposed pearl of her clit like some rare musical instrument. I tap it. I stroke it. I twist it and pinch.
Kate strains against the spreader. Her feet fight to break free. Her hands spiral into tight little fists, as if she can slip them out of her cuffs.
My fingers bring her closer to coming… Closer… Closer…
I stop.
She wails.
She needs a moment to cool down. It’s not safe to leave her here, balanced so close to the edge of the bed. I can’t retrieve anything else from the armoire, even if I wanted to.
So I stroke her spine, telling her she’s a good girl. I wrap her hair around my fist, pulling gently as I say she’s mine. I cup her mound, tracing the shaved landing path she’s left me, smoothing the short curls over and over and over again.
And when she’s ready, when her trigger’s been reset, when I know she won’t explode before either of us wants, I step back from the bed. I’m only a foot or two away, just enough to pull my T-shirt over my head.
She’s twisting, grunting, trying to figure out what comes next. Her sounds cover the sizzle of my zipper. I toe off my shoes and socks. Work my pants over my hard-on. Grimace as I peel away my boxer briefs.
“Ooh?” she’s asking.Cole. Then more urgently, “Ooh!”
She shrieks as my fingers dig into her hips. I pull her body toward me, angling over the spreader’s metal bar. Still holding tight with my left hand, I use my right to position my cock at her ready, waiting entrance. I pause until she takes a breath, then slide deep into her primed and waiting pussy.
Her cry is wild and wordless. Her fingers splay wide as I grip both of her hips. She bucks as best she can in her cruel restraint, pushing back in an animal demand for more.
I want to make this last. I want this to be the long drawn-out end of one story, of the terror of her past, of everything she fought through and survived. I want this to be the soaring start to another tale, the promise of our future, all the things we can do and be and live for each other.
But she’s liquid inside. And my lungs are filled with the salt-honey smell of her. And I can’t stop staring at the place where we’re joined, between her leather-bound ankles and wrists.
I hold on long enough to bring her back to the edge. I reach beneath her to settle my thumb against the burning diamond of her clit—tapping, tapping, tapping until I feel her break.
The swirl starts deep inside her, but it grows like ripples on a pond. She arches her throat, hissing breaths through her bared teeth. I rock back, almost pulling out before her throbbing draws me in again. My balls tighten against her.
A full-body shudder convulses her and she shatters, clutching and falling, clutching and falling, milking me until I see stars.
I want to scream her name, but I’ve lost every one of my words. I try to grasp her hips, but I can’t control my hands. She’s so tight and I’m so lost and when I empty inside her, I break through to a world beyond time and space.
Darkness.
Silence.
Peace.
I stir before she does. I find the metal buckles on her ankles first, setting them free. I work her wrists next, opening the cuffs. Dropping the spreader to the floor, I climb onto the bed beside her.
My fingers are steadier as I undo her gag. By the time I unknot her blindfold, she’s shivering, trembling in aftermath. I pull both of us up to the headboard, scrambling the linens along the way. I cradle her back against my chest, folding my arms and legs around her before I pull the dark emerald sheet to her chin.
Her head lolls against my shoulder. “My,” she whispers, eyes closed. “What a long cock you have.”
She’s asleep before I stitch together a reply.
