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“But for now, I want more.”
He slammed me to the one unpainted wall and my body jarred, but the impact made my insides shiver for him. He worked his buckle and I stood there watching, my bound wrists aching but I didn’t care. When he kicked off his jeans and boxers and advanced on me, juices graced the tops of my thighs and my stomach went light.
“Please,” I said, and that was all. I wasn’t even sure it made sense, and I was beyond caring.
He slipped my bound hands around his neck and kissed me. His tongue stroked over mine and when I kissed him back, he sucked roughly at my tongue so I felt the resounding tug in my pussy. One big arm looped beneath my right knee and hiked my leg up, the motion parting me, opening me to him, and then he was driving into me. One long easy stroke, I was so fucking wet.
His mouth came down on my shoulder, teeth glancing across feverish skin. His cock filling me, his big body working me over so I felt slightly crumpled and completely boneless. An orgasm swelled toward me as the skin on my bottom throbbed from the paddling. I was so prepped to come it was as easy as breathing.
He rocked into me a bit harder, sliding his pretty white teeth along my collarbone. I held my breath, anticipating the bite that did not come. He pressed against me, pinning me fully and cutting off my air. It was almost impossible to breathe. And that’s when his teeth really clamped down, the pain flashed bright and wonderful and I came, gasping for air that wasn’t there.
He held me steady, not letting me move, and lost his manners. His thrusts an exercise in chaos, his hips rotating and driving, seeking nothing at that point but pleasure.
When he came, I kissed him fiercely. Sucking at his lips to lick that sound away. The sound of us fucking—for real—for the first time. The first time I was myself entirely. No walls, no fear, no hiding.
John took my face in his hands for just a second. Brushing his thumbs along my cheeks before he let me go.
“Now that I’ve expressed myself, you have a decision to make. I’m a nice guy but even nice guys get tired of waiting,” he said, ripping the blue tape from my wrists. My skin rejoiced as if inhaling deeply. The blood flow brought pins and needles to my skin.
I just stared at him. Taking him in.
“Starr?”
“Yes. I heard. A nice guy.”
“I am right?”
“Yes, you are. You’re a nice guy, John. My John.” I blurted it out, and when his eyes met mine I felt my cheeks color.
He gave a nod. “That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear. Now we have pizzas to go get.” He bent to grab his jeans.
I watched him move. Drinking him in with new eyes. Okay, so I’d been wrong. He was a keeper, after all.
BONDAGE BLOGGING
Meadow Parker
We were pretty deep into the evening when I realized that Jamie and Andre were planning on tying me up.
What finally tipped me off wasn’t the hand massage Andre was giving me or the way that Jamie caressed the back of my neck; both of those seem obvious in retrospect, but at the time that wasn’t what convinced me.
It was when Andre started asking questions about my sex life.
“I never did get to ask you if you play,” said Andre, his chocolate eyes bright and his wide, gorgeous mouth twisted up in a grin. “Do you?”
His big, dark, powerful hands, which had been massaging my fingers and palm, moved up to my wrist. My other hand was limp on my thigh.
So this was how it was done, huh? This was how the bondage bloggers did it? Was that all it took to get a girl into bed? Two beers and a comment about carpal tunnel? “Here, I’ll show you something that helps,” he said, massaging my fingers. And then, with that grin that always melted me, he added: “If it works, I can teach it to your boyfriend.”
And me, with my dorky little flirt in response: “If I had a boyfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
I said, “No,” a little too quickly, a little too loudly, and then added, “Never,” a little too emphatically, which made me worry that Jamie might stop what she was doing to my neck.
She didn’t. The gentle touch of her fingers, in fact, turned into something very close to a kiss, except there was no actual contact yet. Just the whisper of her breath and a ripple down my back to my butt, which suddenly felt all wicked and squirmy and tingly with the memory of just how pretty her butt looked when it was very red and very striped because Jamie was facedown, ass up, whipped, gagged and struggling.
She didn’t kiss me, though—not yet. She just sort of leaned in and breathed on me.
