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She lay there, waiting, listening for any sound to tell her what he was up to. She heard a whisper of something, but she couldn’t put a name to it.
He picked up one hand and wrapped something around her wrist, something soft yet tight. She went to touch it with her free hand but he grabbed it before she could. “Oh, I don’t think so, kitten.”
She huffed.
He laughed, and put her wrapped hand straight up in the air. “Leave it there. If it gets too uncomfortable, tell me.” Then he did the same wrapping deal on her other wrist, and lifted it, as well. He fiddled with something, and she heard a small click. Then something slithered across her naked stomach.
She jumped and let out a small squeak. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving as though she’d been out running.
“Easy, babe. You’re safe. Trust me.” He slipped something between her wrists and then she felt her arms stretch. “Relax your arm muscles.”
She did as he said and they didn’t drop but stayed up over her head. She didn’t know how, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—until he stretched them the tiniest bit more. “Ow!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” A second later, the ache eased. Her arms were still stretched, but not painfully so. “Better?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I don’t want you in pain.” His voice came closer, next to her ear. “Emotional or physical. I’m so sorry about making you worry I didn’t want you. Nothing could be further from the truth, even though I kept drawing things out, making you wait.”
It was almost easier to talk about this blindfolded. Even though she couldn’t see his face—or maybe because she couldn’t see his face—she heard the raw honesty in his words. “Tell me why.”
“As a dominant, as your Dom, all decisions about sex are mine unless you use your safe word. We’ve talked about that before. When, where, how often, and even how. I decide if I want to use my mouth to make you come, or my cock. I decide if I’m going to let you come, period.”
No kidding. She’d learned that first hand at the cabin. He’d pulled back before she came so many times she’d thought she’d scream. Had screamed, and he’d laughed that evil laugh that only made her hotter and wetter.
He continued. “And I decide if I’m going to come, or not. I wanted you then, kitten, and I want you now. Make no mistake about that. I claimed your mouth in your living room. I claimed your orgasms in that cabin. Tonight, I’m going to claim you in exactly the way I’ve imagined claiming you, in my home and in my bed, for the past five years. How I want, when I want, where I want. Unless you safe word out.”
She said the first and only thing that came to the mind that was now as aroused and desperate as the body. “Yes, please.”
* * *
Sweeter words had never been spoken, and Becca’s husky voice was sexy as sin. “Soon, babe. But I’m not done yet.” He wanted to hurry, but he also wanted to savor every moment of the scene he’d imagined for years. He stood and admired his handiwork. He’d pulled his armchair and ottoman in front of his bed so he could take advantage of the hook in the ceiling to hold her arms taut. He ran his fingers under the soft rope he’d wound around her wrists, checking to make sure the rope cuffs hadn’t slipped. He didn’t want to cut off her circulation. “I wish you could see yourself. Your nipples are hard. And your face and chest are such a sexy shade of pink.” She didn’t say anything, so he reached out and touched her cheek. “You okay?”
She licked her lips. “I...yes. God. So good.”
He couldn’t hold back his grin, even though she wouldn’t see it. “Gonna get even better, sweet pea. Hang on.”
He grabbed the rest of the rope, then moved to the foot of the ottoman and put his hands under her ass, moving the ottoman back against the chair and bringing her to the very edge of the stool. He ran his hands down her trembling legs, then used his hands to part them. The scent of her, that tempting, Christmas cookie scent of her, teased his nose but he focused on his task first.
This was one of the things she’d said she wanted—being bound—and he was glad to be able to give it to her. He wrapped the last of the rope to her ankles then tied them to the feet on the ottoman. Her legs were spread wide, giving him the perfect view of her glistening curls and the fine tremors making her stomach quiver.
Through it all, she remained quiet except for her rasping breath and the occasional soft moan. She might be uncertain about whether or not she was submissive at heart, but he wasn’t. Seeing her reactions to the type of play they’d done so far, he was pretty sure she’d come around to the idea of more involved scenes. He’d waited five long years for her. He could wait for that, too, but even if she never went further than this level in her submission to him, he could live with it.
“You’re like a feast, all laid out for me like this. I think it’s my turn for dessert.” She blushed at the reminder of what she’d said a few days ago when he’d come in her mouth, and the color moved all the way up her body. He reached for what he’d set out on the bed earlier, grabbing one in his hand. “But first, I think you need some decorations. It is still the Christmas season, after all.”
She laughed, but it died in her throat as he bit down on one nipple. He got it good and wet and tortured and then he put a clothespin on it. She nearly shot out of the chair as she strained against her bindings. “Oh, God. What was that?”
“Not yet,” he teased. “I’ll show you after I’m done.”
She let out a frustrated sound.
He just laughed. “Patience, kitten.” He moved to the other side and performed the same ministrations on that nipple. He had clamps, real ones, but these wooden clothespins were one of his favorite pervertables. He tongued her nipple and bit it, and then he clamped the next clothespin on it.
“Jeremy!”
He grinned. As she writhed on the chair, he squeezed her breasts and slapped them lightly, and then he tugged at the clothespins, not enough to pull them off, but enough to make them sting.
She started begging. “Oh, please. Please, please, please.”
