AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sorry, I’ve got another idea,” he said. “Hang on.”
He darted off again, taking the stairs two at a time, then came thundering back down. I listened, motionless, as he cleared bottles and glasses from the table. This game was starting to develop.
“Okay, hands behind your back, please,” he said.
I did as told and he wound fabric around my wrists, tying them together.
“I hope that’s not one of my nice scarves,” I said.
“It isn’t,” he replied. “Well, I don’t like it.”
I laughed, half amusement, half nerves. Bound and blindfolded, I waited, my clothes bunched around my arms, my nipples crinkling as if they’d been touched.
“What’s this?” asked Aidan, his voice a murmur. He started at my shoulder and ran a track of pinpricks across my chest to my other shoulder. He did the same across my back, causing my spine to arch as if my body were retreating from the mild pain, even though I liked it. The faint tick-tick of a wheel made me guess he was rolling out something across my skin. Pizza cutter? Surely not. Anyway, the sensation was too uneven. I racked my brains for several seconds before it dawned on me it must be our pastry wheel. But I kept quiet, feigning bafflement so he would carry on.
Varying the force, Aidan ran the implement this way and that, tracing curves and lines. When he rolled the wheel toward my breasts, I tensed, fearing pain. His touch became gentler and I groaned quietly as prickles advanced across my heavy flesh.
“Pastry wheel,” I said, hearing the catch of lust in my throat.
“Good girl,” he said. I didn’t know if he was commending me on my answer or on how I’d held still, accepting and trusting, but either way I liked the words. “Now this,” he said, setting down one object and picking up another.
I flinched at the new texture then settled into it as Aidan moved soft bristles across my back and above my breasts.
“Hairbrush,” I said. “Easy.”
“Well done.” Aidan pressed the pad of spines to the underswell of one breast, bounced upward, then repeated the action on the other side. Finally, he swept the brush across my nipples, shifting quickly from one breast to the other. The harshness and hint of aggression made me gasp, and my groin pulsed greedily.
I heard him drop the brush on the floor. For a while nothing happened and I waited, my skin sensitized and alert to a touch that might land anywhere, from any angle. The more he drew out the moment, the wetter I became. The silence stretched until I giggled anxiously. I felt adrift, dislocated. I wanted to know what he was doing yet at the same time, the prolonged uncertainty heightened my hunger. I remembered how delicious anticipation could be and realized we didn’t have much of that in our sex life these days. We knew each other too well and generally just got on with things.
Eventually, I couldn’t bear the silence any longer. “What are you doing?” I asked. No answer. I strained for the sound of his breathing. Nothing. “Where are you?” I asked, feeling a little panicky.
“Over here.” His voice, coming from several feet away, startled me. In my mind, he was still kneeling on the other side of the coffee table.
“Ade, what are you doing?”
At length, he said, “Messing with your mind.”
“Well, it’s working,” I replied.
Moments later, I jumped again as something touched my back, abrasive and initially pleasant, like scratching yourself hard when you’re itching. Aidan swirled the coarseness over my skin, making me wince when he rubbed an area more than once.
“Shower puff?” I said, although I knew it wasn’t. The rasp was crueler.
“Try again,” he said, bringing the roughness over my shoulder and down. I was feeling braver now, and I didn’t flinch as he rubbed whatever it was over my nipples.
“Jeez, is that sandpaper?” I asked.
“Nope. That’s two incorrect guesses. Three incorrect guesses in a row and I spank you.”
I laughed. “Now I don’t know if I should try harder or play dumb.”
“Your call,” he said.
“Give me a clue.”
“Think kitchen.”
“Pan scourer!” I said.
