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While I watch, Ingram sets out the appetizers, noodles and numerous sushi rolls — tuna, salmon, eel, crab and more with soy sauce and real wasabi — then passes me my chopsticks. Everything smells and looks delicious. Ingram ordered enough for six people, and all of it calls to me.
Still, I’m determined to show my discipline and eat in a slow, dignified manner. Having ordered sushi helps — and moving more gracefully keeps me from shifting on the plug.
“How much did they tell you?” Ingram asks as he spreads wasabi over an eel avocado roll.
The authorities, he must mean.
“Next to nothing. Not where they were keeping you, or what they wanted to charge you with or when you might go to trial. I didn’t know whether you were in a maximum-security prison an hour away or in Guantanamo Bay. They wouldn’t let me visit you.”
“I know,” he says. “I don’t blame you for that.”
“It pissed me off, though. I wanted to see you. Was it bad, where they kept you?”
He chuckles.
“Actually, it was nice. They sent me to rich guy jail; it was full of tax cheats and embezzlers.”
“Seriously?”
“District attorneys and federal investigators were coming to see me every day, so why not keep me somewhere nice? I’m sure if I wasn’t telling them everything, they’d have thrown me in a hole somewhere.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“It’s good to be out,” Ingram says. “Whatever comes next, I’ll be with you.”
I laugh, squirming on the presence in my rear.
“I should hope you’ll be with me for what comes next!”
Licking his lips, Ingram gets up and takes my hand. Before I can grab one last salmon roll, he drags me to the bedroom.
He pulls my top off and throws it across the room, pulling me into his arms and kissing me. I reach down and rub the hardness in his pants; I may not have permission, but I don’t care. It’s been way too long since I’ve enjoyed his cock. While not letting go of our kiss, he unzips my pants as well and pulls them down. Stepping out of his pants, he finally breaks off our kiss, lifting me up over his shoulders.
Howling with glee and terror, I hold onto his chest. He won’t let me fall, but my instincts don’t know that.
Walking around the bedroom, Ingram spanks my ass with his free hand. My pussy clenches, loving the sensation of being owned by such a gorgeous specimen of a man. All I can do is hold on, gasping with each slap. When he’s made six or seven circuits around the room, he carefully lowers me onto the bed.
“Stay,” he grunts.
A shiver races through me as I reply, “Yes, sir.”
My nerves tingle, eager for what’s coming.
He returns with his hands full and starts by tying my wrists and ankles to the posts of my bed. The rope digs into my skin so tantalizingly — I tug against them, trying to get free but it’s no use. Not that I want to, anyway — I’m fine where I am.
Next, he gags me — a red, rubber ball that he buckles tightly. I groan, trying to push it out with my tongue but it doesn’t budge. Not that I need to speak. There will be plenty of time for talking later.
Ingram sits down next to me and proceeds to slip two fingers into my drenched pussy. Moaning, I tremble in place. I summon my discipline to keep myself from grinding against him. I want more, but he’s working me at the pace he wishes, building me up gradually.
Still, I think he senses my frustration.
“What’s the rush?” he asks. “We have nothing but time, Kate. We’re going to be together forever.”
I hum through the gag; it’s true, and I’m glad it is — but right now I need to come.
He continues to finger me, occasionally swatting my backside, jostling the plug that still fills my ass. I grunt and sigh, taking the pleasure given to me.
Eventually Ingram works his fingers faster and harder, lifting me up higher. It’s enough to bring me to the brink; I may have pleasured myself in the past six months, but after the final grand jury hearing, I stopped. It’s been days since I’ve climaxed — and far, far too long since it was from Ingram’s touch.
