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And then he started all over again.
After three—or four orgasms by his tongue, Daniel gently set my feet on the floor, then rocked back on his heels to stand up. He did not untie me as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off and revealing a hard, sculpted chest. I started forward, though, staring at the tattoos—and the many scars. Ridged scars from blades, a burn mark on his side, and lacerations wrapping around from his back. A whole map of pain.
Oh, Daniel.
“I know I’m a bit hard to look at.”
“You’re beautiful,” I said in a harsh voice that shook, wishing I could think of something to say. “I just…”
The sight had shaken me out of a post-orgasmic bliss, bringing me down, and Daniel frowned. It made my heart ache and I tried to reach for him, only to be caught by the bindings.
“Don’t ask,” he said in a light voice, though his posture radiated tension and warning.
“I want to know,” I said and met his eyes.Who did this to you?I asked silently, something seething inside of me at such brutality, and a helplessness to prevent or protect him. Out loud, I asked, “Untie me?”
His chest rose and fell as he gazed at me, clearly hearing my unspoken question, before he half-shook his head. “In a minute.” Daniel swallowed hard and looked away, rubbing at his neck. “Sara, I never ask this, but—” He looked back. “May I take a picture of you?”
A rush went through me, even though I was restrained, I felt powerful. There was a pleading note in Daniel’s voice that made me smirk and say, “Only if you send me a copy.”
Daniel dragged a hand over his face and shook his head slowly. “You’re dangerous.”
“I also want a picture of you—and of us,” I said.
“Okay,” he said and went to retrieve a high-end camera. “Woah. Yes, exactly like that.”
I’d moved my legs to be crossed at the ankles, my knees leaning to one side, and tipping my head to the other, while pressing my chest out. Still wearing the clamps.
I watched Daniel slip into another self, gazing at me in a way that made me dizzy, and a thrill shot through my stomach when I heard the click of the shutter. He took a few more and I made different faces, pouty, smirking, and starving for him. Then he came forward and took off the clamps, snapping a picture as I made a face.
“Danny,” I said as he walked away and stared at his camera, looking through the pictures. The ties were starting to make me a little feral. “Please untie me.”
“Shit, sorry,” he said and set down the camera, before sprinting over. He rubbed at my wrists, bending over to kiss them, and then me. “You did great.”
“Thanks,” I said, feeling a little shy. “I do think I need to take the heels off now. I know that’s a big turn on.”
He laughed and scooped me into his arms, before bringing me over to the bed. When he set me down on it, I sat up, ready to take them off, but Daniel was already there, deftly removing them and then smiling up at me.
“What?”
“This is good angle—I want to take another picture.” I kicked at him, and he laughed, catching my foot, and pressing a kiss to my ankle. “You’re so comfortable naked.” He said it with such admiration that I preened and tossed my head, smirking at him, and Daniel ducked his head. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just a bit envious.”
“The trick is hanging out naked in your apartment.”
Daniel was in the middle of standing up and went still, swallowing hard as his eyes dilated and I knew he was picturing me naked doing mundane things.
“I’d like to see you naked, too, Danny,” I purred and reached for his pants.
“I—” Something chimed in from his study, and Daniel went alert, striding over to the door, then inside. I heard ferocious typing, a curse, and then he was back out. “Sorry. Give me fifteen.” He patted his pockets and swung his head around, before I pointed to the door, and he laughed, clearly recalling me throwing his phone across the room. “Maybe twenty. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Take your time, honestly,” I said, my heart ratcheting up as I tried not to look at the study door, now open, and the light inside bright with an unlocked computer. “I think I need a bit of recovery time.”
He laughed, but it was distracted and then went out to the living room. I heard him grab the phone and make a call, speaking in Italian. That brought reality back in a rush and I felt a little sick at letting myself get so distracted—at wanting to be distracted.
I wish this could work.
I stared at the half-open door to the living room, chest rising and falling, then I stood up. On tiptoe, pausing only to grab Daniel’s black shirt and throw it on, I went to the study door and looked back.
Daniel sounded further away, distracted, and I gulped in a big breath. I’d come here for this. I had to do this.
