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I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a man stay so hard after coming. It’s like he never touched himself at all, his swollen length stiff and almost painfully veined in front of him, and as he stands up, I swallow hard with anticipation.
What am I doing?
It’s been years since I let a man tie me up for my own pleasure. Not since—but I can’t think of that now, not here, not with Finn. It’s not fair to him, or to that memory, or to me even—because I can’t pretend that I don’t want the pleasure he’s offering. Even with the caveat of letting him cuff me to the bench, even with conceding that, I’m buzzing with desire at the thought of what he says he wants to do to me.
He stands up slowly, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. “You don’t have to take your clothes off—” I start to say, and he chuckles, his full mouth twitching in a smirk.
“No, we’re doing this my way, lass. And then you can do it yours.”
He knows exactly what he’s doing. He strips off his shirt, muscles flexing as the fabric slides up his chiseled abs and broad chest, revealing that strip of copper hair below his navel that turns into a thatch of it higher up, begging for me to run my nails through it and over his pecs, to the thick arms that stretch over his head as he tosses the shirt aside. His hair is messy, falling in his face a little as he looks down at me, and when he hooks his thumbs in the waist of his jeans and boxers, I feel my mouth go dry.
His cock is out, there’s no mystery there—but that doesn’t change the flood of desire that ripples through me as I see his muscled hips and thighs, dusted with that same copper hair, framing his pierced cock as he kicks the rest of his clothing aside and stands there for a moment, bare as I am, his gaze enjoying the sight of me laying back against the bench as naked as he is.
It takes everything in me not to beg him just to come here and fuck me.
Slowly, he paces towards me, the look on his face hungry as his gaze travels over my body again and again, like he can’t get enough. I wait for him to ask me where the cuffs are, what to do with them, but he doesn’t. He crouches down by my ankles, and I feel the smooth brush of the leather as he wraps it around first one ankle and then another, his fingertips grazing against my skin, and my heart leaps in my chest.
“Tell me if it’s too tight, lass,” he murmurs, moving to my wrists. His arm brushes against my breast, the barest touch, but it lights my skin on fire as I let out a slow, shuddering breath. I just came moments ago, and it feels as if it’s been weeks. Every inch of my skin feels sensitive, aching, wanting to be touched, and now, as Finn cuffs both of my wrists, I’m entirely at his mercy.
I swallow hard as he turns towards me, his gaze meeting mine, sliding down to my mouth. “Can I kiss you, Asha?” he asks softly, and for one moment, I want to tell him yes. I want to know what it feels like to have that soft, warm mouth on mine, to feel his tongue slide into my mouth. I don’t kiss clients, and it’s been so fucking long since I’ve been kissed. Not since Nikolai. And Finn—
I think Finn would kiss differently. Gentle and firm all at once, warm and enveloping, and his taste—
I shake my head, a strange sort of fear rippling through me suddenly.If I let him kiss me—it feels like that would change everything. Like it would be the difference between…
He has you cuffed to a bench, about to lick your pussy until you come for him. What is the difference, exactly?
I can’t explain it. And I hate the flicker of disappointment that I see on his face before it smooths out again.
“Not that,” I whisper. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“Alright.” Finn nods, his hand brushing between my breasts, sliding down to the flat of my stomach. I feel my skin quiver and leap under his touch, my hips arching as I tug against the cuffs, wanting more of his hands on me. “All you have to do is say if you don’t like something, lass. I’ll stop. You never need to be afraid of that with me.”’
His hands slide up the sides of my breasts, cupping them, fingers playing with my nipples until I gasp, the pleasure prickling over my skin as I feel fresh arousal pool between my legs. There’s a thrumming heat in my blood, arousal building quickly at the touch of his rough fingers, and when he lowers his head to kiss just above my breasts, his beard brushing against my skin, I let out a whimper of need.
“Mm, I like that sound, lass.” His voice drops, a rich, deep sound full of that Irish burr, his hands dropping to my sides, down to my waist as he turns his mouth towards my nipple. His lips are warm and soft, his tongue hot as it slides over the peaked flesh, and I let out another whimper, squirming beneath him. No one has been this slow, this careful, in so long. I don’t know if I want pleasure or pain or some mixture of the two, but I know I needmore. I need so much more than he’s giving me right now.
“Patience, Asha.” His voice hums over my skin, his tongue trailing a damp line of heat to my other breast, sliding up the curve. I can feel every lick, every graze of his teeth as if there’s a direct line to my clit, tugging at the ache between my legs as he lingers there as if he knows he’s driving me insane.
His mouthfinallydrifts lower, down my stomach, his hands sliding to my hips as he kneels back down on that padded strip on the floor, right where I’d put him to tease and torture him earlier. Finn’s fingers press into my hips, his eyes sliding hungrily between my thighs, my legs held open for him. I can feel myself clenching, my clit aching for his touch, and I have to press my lips together to keep from begging for him.
But that’s what he wants to hear.
His lips trace one hipbone and then the other, and then he dips his head between my thighs, but not where I’m dying for him to touch me. His mouth brushes over the inside of one knee, his fingers grazing the outside of my thighs, and I tilt my head back, closing my eyes as I bite my tongue.
“You’ll say please eventually, lass.” There’s the same choked lust in his voice that I feel, but now he’s the one in the position of power, not me.
I should hate it. I should want him to fuck off, not to fuckme—because I’ve only ever wanted this when I’ve felt—
As quickly as the thought flickers through my mind, I shut it out. I can’t feel that. Not for Finn, not for anyone.
Finn’s mouth slides higher, up my thigh, dragging my thoughts back to the present. His tongue glides over my soft skin, making me gasp, my hips squirming against the leather, and his fingers dig into my thighs.
“Slowly, remember?” he teases me, and I glare down at him.
“Finn—” There’s a warning in my voice as I narrow my eyes at him, but it’s slightly undermined by the waver in my voice as his lips trace higher. “Remember, I get to…turn this around on you…”
He smirks, his gaze rolling up to meet mine as he sucks lightly at the very top of my inner thigh, and my words turn into a whimper. “I’m trying to remind myself of that, lass,” he murmurs softly. “But it’s so very tempting right now to just—”
