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"All the way in."
"I… I can’t."
"You took my cock inside you; your fingers are nothing."
Moisture drools from my core. I thrust my fingers inside, and sensations vibrate out from the intrusion. I'm so sensitive, flickers of heat zip through my blood.
"Hold out your fingers and show me your cum."
OMG, that dirty talking mouth of his is going to make me orgasm without him having touched me.I manage to glide my fingers out and show them to him.
"You’re wet enough for what’s going to come, turn on your front.
I hesitate.
He glares at me, and frissons of anticipation spark up my spine. I turn over.
"Stay there."
I hear him move around, hear the slither of the silken rope over his palm. Goosebumps splatter on my skin.Oh god. Ohgod, ohgod. He’s going to use the ropes again, and I’m going to love every second of it. What is he doing to me? To think I was a virgin less than a month ago and now I can’t wait for him to tie me up and fuck every hole.
"I can hear you thinking, and I’m going to deliver on it."
A whimper escapes me. I sound so needy, so greedy. So ready for everything he has in mind.
He lifts my foot then pushes down until my leg is fully bent at the knee, then slips the rope just below the knee and above the ankle, tying me in a frog legged shape. He does the same to the other side. Then I sense him straighten.
"What’s my name, Belle?"
"Eddie," I breathe.
"Such a good little slut, you are."
A shiver of pleasure swirls through my blood like cream poured in coffee. I begin to squeeze my thighs together, but he grips my knee and holds them apart. "Remember, you can’t alleviate your need."
"That’s ridiculous."
"That’s called a frog-tie."
"What?" I blink.
"Tying your legs the way I have."
"You mean, it helps you reach any of my orifices conveniently?" I scoff.
"Exactly." He sounds pleased. Because clearly, he got the response he wanted. Because I walked into the trap he’d set me. I firm my lips.
"Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m going to do next?"
I want to. Of course, I do, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of doing what he expects. I stay silent and hear him chuckle. The bastard chuckles, which, coming from someone who has a hard time curving his lips in a smile, is enough to make me glare at him over my shoulder.
"Next is the box-tie," he informs me.
Like I need to know the name of whatever convoluted knot he’s going to drape over my body?
He places one knee on the bed, then the other on the other side of my body.
"Place your cheek on the bed." He gently urges me, then when I’m positioned to his satisfaction, he begins to knead my shoulders. He digs his fingers into the tensed muscles, and when they relax, a warmth seeps through my blood. "Draw a deep breath," he orders.
