He blinked. “My shirt?”
She swallowed. “I want to see your body.”
He held out his wrist and turned it, tacitly inviting her to undo his cuffs, pleased to see her eyes light up as she flicked open one button, and then the other one he offered.
He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it. “Good?”
“Very.” She eyed him hungrily before lying back again to rest on her elbows.
He nodded and went back to work.
For the next several minutes, Nick worked methodically, checking in often. Finally, he fashioned the last wrap above the midpoint of her thigh, then tightened the bottom until he heard a satisfying squeak.
Nick drew back, studying his handiwork critically, and smiled. “What do you think?”
She looked down at her gorgeous, adorned leg, then at her reflection in the mirrored wall across the room. “It’s beautiful.”
A slow smile spread across his face at the awe in her voice. “Don’t move.”
Striding back to the wall of ropes, he grabbed the red coil, returning with it under her heated gaze. Her eyes devoured him, moving over his bare chest, then to his face, and finally, to his hands as he set about tying her other leg.
By the time he finished, his blood was pounding.
He stood and took her in. God, she was so beautiful, bound and spread for his viewing pleasure, and he had never seen her this aroused.
He allowed himself to have his fill of looking at her before reaching out to gently gather a drop.
“Look at all of this.”
“Ah!”
Nick smiled with satisfaction.There we go.
“This—” he circled his thumb “—ismine.”
He pushed two fingers deep into her. Jannie cried out again, arching her back, her chest heaving.
Nick slipped his fingers out and slid them into his mouth, savoring her essence, closing his eyes in bliss. He opened them to find Jannie watching him suck, regarding him in silent, wide-eyed awe.
“Look what you do to me.” He took her hand and placed it on his rigid shaft, squeezing. “What should I do toyou, beautiful girl?”
She sat there, legs apart, each a work of art, one tied in red, the other in blue, her breasts rising and falling, and all the blood seemed to rush downward to where Nick ached with need.
“Look up,” he said.
She did, gazing up at the explicit view in the mirrored ceiling.
“Does it turn you on to see us like this?”
“Yes.”
Good, this is progress.
“Do you see how beautiful you are?”
This time, she didn’t answer.
He reached out and ran his fingertip along the edge of her bottom lip. “This mouth—” he followed the soft curve “—is perfection. I’ve been obsessed with it for fifteen years.”
