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“Hands above your head,” he orders, and I lift my arms. His knees hit the mattress and then he’s there, looming over me.
“Elliot?” My voice cracks, trepidation swimming in my veins.
This is crazy.
I’m crazy.
But then, I haven’t quite felt on solid ground since the night Elliot rejected me and I found out my father had died.
“Cross your wrists,” he adds, leaning over to grab my hands and bind them with the tie in his hand. He secures the tail to the bedpost and tests its restraint. “If you need to tap out say Red.”
“What are— Ah,” I cry out, wrists straining against the silk tie, as he lowers his mouth to my thin material covering my breasts and blows a stream of hot air right over my nipple.
“Fuck, I’ve imagined this so many times.”
His words make my head spin but it’s his teeth grazing my hard peak that makes me shudder.
“You like the pain, don’t you, Red.”
“Yes. Ye— Yeah.” Air rushes from my lungs as he bites down harder, making me hiss. But the pain grounds me. Smothers all the grief and heartache writhing inside me.
Reduces my existence to Elliot. The feel of his warm, wet mouth closed over my pyjama-covered breast.
He turns his attention to the other, repeating his actions. Making me shiver and squirm.
“Oh God,” I breathe, trying to force air into my lungs as I unravel.
But for as good as it feels, I need more.
So much more.
“Elliot.” I strain against my restraints once more, desperate to touch him. To run my fingers over his body.
“Patience,” he chuckles, the sound vibrating through me as he moves down my body, taking my pyjama bottoms with him.
His fingers dance along the inside of my knees, gliding up thighs, lingering on the cuts there.
The wet slide of his tongue across my marred skin sends a whimper through me. It feels so good. But the pleasure is only intensified by the fact I’m bound at the wrists.
He licks and sucks at thighs, grazing his teeth along the cuts and healing skin. My head knows it shouldn’t feel so good, so erotic, but my body doesn’t care. Every inch of me trembling with anticipation.
“More,” I murmur. “Please.”
“Like this?” He breathes the words onto my most intimate place. “Or how about like this?” Tugging my underwear to the side, he slides two fingers along my seam, baring me to him.
And then he strikes.
Biting down on my clit so hard that pleasure shatters through me until I see stars.
“Oh God,God,” I cry out. Over and over. As Elliot soothes the sting with his tongue, drawing out the pleasure wreaking havoc on my insides.
I’m vaguely aware of him rising over me to unbind my wrists.
It’s only when I finally come down to Earth, I realise that I’m wrecked and ruined, laying half-naked on his bed.
And Elliot is still fully clothed. He didn’t let me touch him. He didn’t let me kiss him.
He gave me something I needed but he took nothing from me in return.
