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“Good?”
She nodded.
“This makes me feel as if you really want to be in my bed.” His smile was wicked. He was right though. Each intricate knot he made bound her to him, and she became mesmerized by the caring attention he showed her. It truly was a ritual for him, and it was fast becoming that for her.
It didn’t feel overly tight at first, not until she took a deep, ragged breath and then she felt it. Her chest was constricted, breasts squeezed tight and nipples poking through the arrangement of slender ropes. A heady rush hit her. Never had she been so ready to be fucked, never had he made her wait quite so long.
“I’m going to put you on the bed now.” He lifted her into his arms and she rolled against his body, the bindings making her want to be right against him where she was safe.
When he laid her down she put her arms flat against the surface. He drew one hand and then the other into one of his, moving them against the decorative metal posts of the headboard. With a length of rope he secured them, tying them together against a single strut, then he looped that length of rope down and around one at her lower rib cage.
He stepped away and stood at the end of the bed looking down at her. The weight of his gaze was almost too much. She was strung out, raw, and dying for him to take her. When she tugged with her wrists it pulled the rope latticed over her chest. The restraint forced her into a different zone. It made something give way inside her and she rolled her head on the pillow, her pulse racing and her breathing shallow and erratic.
“Open your legs.”
She did as instructed. The cool air on her inflamed pussy maddened her swollen clit. She wriggled, desperate to be touched there.
He moved her legs further apart—spread-eagling her, making her gasp aloud—then lifted another length of the rope. Again he ran it through his hands, readying it. His biceps flexed and caught the light as he did so. With the rope taut in his hands, he moved it to her inner thigh, resting it in the crease of her groin. He looped the rope around the top of one thigh, weaving it into the latticework over her chest, before bringing it down the other side and around the top of the other thigh. Imogen shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. Every action heightened her senses, while her splayed pussy felt increasingly vulnerable and exposed.
He loomed over her, his expression intense while he watched her every reaction, noting every move she made, every whisper of sound that escaped her.
The rope around her rib cage felt gloriously restrictive, the pressure above and below her breasts and around the tops of her thighs making her more horny than she’d ever been, and when she glanced down at her totem-like nipples between the electric-blue hemp it looked so lewd and lusty that her head rolled against pillows.
After he checked that she was secure, he lay at her side, one hand on the pillow next to her head, the other stroking her left nipple. When he pinched it and she cried out in ecstasy, he watched her face. “Are you comfortable?”
She nodded. It was true, because she felt naked and raw but incredibly safe, because he had secured her. “It’s good,” she whispered.
Moving his hand around her right breast, he cupped it, squeezing it before placing his fingers around the nipple. Through his jeans she could feel his erection solid against her hip, but still he took his time. She squirmed, her sex throbbing, desperate for him. Each touch set free a burning sensation that traveled to her core, where it stoked the fire there.
Moving over her body, he ran one finger beneath the rope, as if checking it. Then his hands trailed over her abdomen to the plump flesh of her exposed pussy. He stroked her engorged clit then squeezed it between his thumb and forefinger. Needles of sensation shot through her groin. She felt as if the skin on her chest and neck was burning, her stomach tight in response to the delicious provocation. When he pinched, she almost came.
“You know why I’m doing this now, don’t you?”
A breathy laugh escaped her. “To drive me insane.”
Still he brushed his fingertips over her exposed pussy, tantalizing her swollen folds with the briefest of strokes. The rope around her in
ner thighs seemed to tighten as her body blossomed under his touch, the restriction making her gasp in delight.
“Because I adore you, and to have you like this is the closest I can get to making you let go and enjoy it completely.”
Imogen blinked, her ability to focus on his words fading in and out.
“I want more than you’ve given me,” he added.
“I’ve given you everything,” she gasped, her body tight with the need for release. “You’ve got me here, like this…please, Giles. Please fuck me.”
“Oh, I will, but that’s not the only thing I want.”
Sweat broke out on her skin. “What do you mean?”
“I want us out, as a couple. I want us to be together, officially.”
Her throat tightened and her eyes smarted. There was no escape from hearing this and having to respond. On instinct, she shook her head. That need to run was ingrained in her, despite the state she was in.
He eased one finger inside her sex. Her body clamped, grateful for the hard intrusion, her hips rising as much as they could from the surface of the bed.
“There’s no reason not to. Unless you’re ashamed of having me, a younger man, your junior, in your bed?” He withdrew his finger.
