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“Are you trying to torture me?”
If only she knew what I was capable of. She wouldn’t use that term so loosely.
“No, little girl. I plan to pleasure you until you can’t keep your eyes open.”
ChapterSix
Chellie
When he said bringing me home, I didn’t realize he meant to his place. Dinner was amazing. And I don’t just mean giving him the blowjob of my life. The food Enrico brought out was the best I’ve had in ages. Everything was superb, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen after the meal was over.
We’ve just walked into his penthouse, which has views all the way to Jersey just like I suspected. He has four bedrooms, which surprises me for a bachelor. But he explained one is his, one is his office, one is his home gym, and one is for any family member who wants to crash. Apparently, that happened a lot more often when most of them were single.
“Strip for me.”
I turn around as he enters the bedroom behind me. I walk backwards toward the bed as I unbutton my blouse and let it slide down my arms to the floor. I turn away from him and point to the zipper at the back of my skirt. He steps close, and I feel his heat, then his cock as an arm wraps around my waist.
“I told you to strip, little girl. I didn’t say let me undress you.”
His hand grabs my ass over my skirt and squeezes until I go up on my toes. Then I feel the material loosen around my waist. He steps back, and I shimmy it over my hips. I shake my ass for good measure, since he seems to like it. I’m still facing away from him when I unfasten my bra, but I twist so he can see my tits as the bra drops on top of my blouse and skirt.
He’s back against me as his hand presses on my belly. It’s perfectly possessive, and I love it. His other hand cups my breast, and I lean my head back onto his shoulder. He rolls his finger over my nipple, and my eyes drift closed. He kisses my neck as his hand skims down my belly to just above my pussy.
Please touch me. Please.
“You said you don’t have experience with BDSM. I want to tie you to my bed and make you come. Is that something you’re willing to try?”
“Yes.”
My answer is a puff of air.
“You need a safe word. One that you won’t accidentally say when you actually want to keep going. One that I’ll know immediately means stop. No questions asked. No demands. It ends when you say so.”
Nothing’s coming to mind because all I can think about is him touching me and doing things that might push me to my limit.
“Um, prunes.”
I have no idea why I blurted that out. He chuckles, and it’s a dark, delicious sound. When I laugh, it sounds like a nervous cackle.
“Prunes it is,piccolina.”
Both of his hands go to my hips and hold me in place.
“I’m going to tie you to my bed, then I’m going to enjoy what’s mine, Chellie. All of you. There isn’t a part of you I won’t touch, a part of you that isn’t here for me to pleasure. Climb on the bed on your belly.”
I step away from him and walk around to the side that has his alarm clock. When I lie down, I smell a hint of his cologne and shampoo on his pillow. My eyes close as I inhale. It calms any nervousness I have. I hear him open the bedside table drawer, then the wrapping on something crackles and tears. I open my eyes to see he has a brand-new bottle of massage oil. It’s jasmine, just like the perfume I wear. It’s my favorite scent.
When I shift my gaze up to him, I know he picked it for that reason. My eyes drift closed again, and I sigh. I wait for him to move my arms or tell me where to put them. The instructions never come. Instead, the cap snaps open, and I feel liquid drizzle down my spine. The sensation alone is arousing. He brushes my hair out of the way before feathering his fingertips through the oil.
He slowly eases the tension from my back and shoulders. All the knots from work, from my fear last night, my anticipation for right now. He works out all of them until I feel like a melted puddle of gooey sugar.
“Roll over, little girl.”
I follow his instructions, but I’m a million miles away, floating in blissful relaxation.
“Arms over your head.”
I do as he says, watching him remove his tie, then wrapping it around my wrists before leashing me to the headboard. He rests a hand on my belly again, and I love it. I might insist he keeps one there permanently. It’s reassuring. His other hand squeezes oil onto my chest. He runs his hands over my tits and between them, spreading the oil until his palm glides over me. The hand on my belly skims over the opposite ribs from the hand that was on my chest. Then it’s back on my belly and sliding down between my legs.
