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My fist is firmer against him, and I swear I hear him groan.
“Good girl,” he says, stepping back.
I flatten my fingers, his heart pumping fiercely beneath my palm. “How will I ask for more without words?”
His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’ll just have to read your body if your mouth is…occupied.”
My audible gasp elicits a deep chuckle from him.
“Ready?” he asks, his expression darkening as his body slips into a somehow taller, more dominant stance.
“Yes,” I reply.
He steps back, turning to the long leather chaise that sits a few feet away. There’s a small table beside the arm, and before I can examine the items he requested, he returns, blocking my line of sight.
My eyes flick down to the black material in his hand.
He lifts one thick satin ribbon. “Do you consent to having your wrists and ankles bound?”
I try not to seem eager when I thrust my hands out, steadying my voice to answer. “Yes.”
Leo sees right through me. “A yes is perfect, but an enthusiastic yes is music to my ears. Don’t hide your excitement from me, little girl.”
A wave of arousal pools in my center. “I won’t hide,” I agree.
He moves forward until there isn’t a lick of space between us. Leaning in, he continues, nudging me with his thigh until I’m forced to fall or walk back with him. I stumble, but he’s quick to catch me with his strong forearm banding around my waist. He slows and I gasp when my shoulders meet one of the cold metal pillars that disappear into the dark ceiling above us.
His arm falls away. “You’ll be standing to start. And blindfolded.” His smile curves dangerously and he twirls his finger in front of my face.
I turn to face the pillar, steadying myself with a hand on the cylindrical structure now in front of me. Leo’s fingers encircle my wrist and he gently pulls my hand from the pillar, placing two of the sashes in my palm instead.
“Don’t move,” he says, letting my arm drop to my side.
He joins his hands in front of my waist, holding the third sash, and leisurely trails the silky fabric up my body. Where it moves over the negligee, the materials sensually slip over each other. He’s carefully spaced his hands so the ends caress my arms, pulling tighter when he gets to the underside of my breasts and loosening to move over the suddenly heavy mounds.
The fabric halts when its directly over my nipples, and a breathy moan flies unbidden from my mouth when he draws the ribbon left and right, deliberately teasing the sensitive peaks.
I pinch my eyes shut to keep from looking down and too soon, the silky friction is gone. My eyes open just as he places the material over my eyes, removing the sense indefinitely.
His hands grasp my upper arms and he turns me slowly, pushing my back right up against the pillar.
The touch disappears and my breathing turns erratic, my blood thrumming in my veins as I try to anticipate his next move. One of the ribbons slides through my fingers and he runs a path down my leg with the soft satin, shuffling behind me, making me think he’s taken a knee.
“Heels against the pillar, little girl,” he whispers, my ears catching every word despite the rhythmic music weaving through the space.
As soon as my skin meets the metal, the fabric is around my ankles, securing me in place.
I start when Leo’s warm breath kisses my neck. “Hands behind your back,” he breathes, sending a shiver down my spine.
He ties my hands behind the beam, and he hums appreciatively at what he sees—me at his mercy.
His fading footprints tell me he’s left, and moments stretch heavily between us. He’s silent on his approach, so silent that I don’t realize he’s back until the first tickle up the middle of my thighs.
My pussy clenches reflexively around nothing, all the nerve endings heightened with my legs this close together. I can only guess it’s a feather he’s trailing up the tiny gap he’s left, and I huff when he stops before he reaches my center.
My hair is pushed over my shoulders, baring more of me to his gaze. The feather flits across the crook of my elbow, up for a second on my lips, and then sweeps torturously from one shoulder to the other before dipping between my breasts. Extra attention is paid to my cleavage and the swell of my breasts. He uses the feather to trace over the cross that sits comfortably atop my sternum and then he removes the phantom caress altogether.
“Breathe for me,” he says.
