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"What are you doing?" I scowl.
"What does it look like?" He murmurs, "I am tying you down."
"You into Shibari, or something?"
"Or something," he agrees. "Let’s just say, finding creative ways of restraining people happens to be one of my hobbies."
"Oh?" I wriggle around and find, while the fabric is loosely tied, it does a very good job of restraining my movement. He’s pulled my shoulders back, so my breasts are thrust forward and into the glass counter and my arms are immobilized. All in all, while it’s not uncomfortable, there’s something very vulnerable in the position. It ensures that I feel exposed, laid out for his delectation.
"Michael," I frown, "undo me."
"Not yet." He steps back and I sense him surveying his handiwork.
"Hmm," he makes a sound of approval deep in his throat, and instantly, my nipples pucker. Hell, it’s as if there’s a direct line from his voice to all the erogenous zones in my body. He leans over me and heat surrounds me, pulls on me, swirls about me, and pins me down to the counter. I can’t move and he isn’t even holding me down any more.
"Look at you." His voice is low and melting. "All tied up and laid out like a buffet." His tone dips another octave and a pulse flares to life between my legs. I chafe my thighs together, clench my core in the hope of plugging the emptiness that yawns in my center.
"Michael," I groan, "what are you doing?"
"Admiring my handiwork, of course," he retorts at once.
Jerk.
"Please, Michael, please."
"What do you want, Beauty?"
"Fuck me, Michael."
"Not happening."
"What the—?" I try to rise up but he, once more, wraps his fingers around my neck to hold me in place. "What the hell are you playing at?" I snap. "Seriously, I am done with how you keep toying with me and then making me come—"
"So, you’d rather not come?"
"That’s not what I said."
"So, you do want me to touch you."
"Argh, stop putting words in my mouth, asshole." I stare up at him from the corner of my eyes, "Honestly, what are you up to?"
"I think I need to stuff some of the fabric in your mouth."
"Don’t you dare, you jerk."
"Then stay quiet,Belleza."
He slides his fingers between my legs, drags the edge of his hand against my pussy. My core clenches and my toes curl. Moisture pools in my center, slides down my inner thigh.
"Dio cane," he growls, "you are soaking, Beauty."
"Oh, bugger off," I mutter. "How about this? Next time, I'll be the one to tie you down, and play with your balls, and then we’ll see how you respond.
"You can play with my balls even without tying me down, baby."
I snort then quickly turn it into a gagging noise, "Seriously, that was a terrible attempt at banter."
"So why are you laughing?"
