She looked at me, heavy-lidded, still slightly hesitant. But then she nodded her head yes. At that, I grabbed her remaining leg and pushed it to the side. I wrapped the silk around her ankle and stretched her wide open for me. She gasped as I did it, her wrists straining against the silk.
Once I’d fastened her tight, I stood to admire my handiwork. She looked like a painting, an incredibly erotic one. They couldn’t display this at the Louvre, though if they did, they’d probably double their daily visitor count. Her legs spread wide, I could see how her sex already glistened with desire. Her breasts stood out large and completely exposed and her stomach moved rapidly in and out with nervous, aroused pants. She was mine for the taking.
“I like seeing you like this, Ana.” She stilled in response, letting me enjoy the sight of her. “But I have a question for you. And you need to answer me honestly. Did you touch yourself last night after I left you?” She’d been slick with need, aroused and at the point of coming when I’d taken away my hand.
“No,” she whispered.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because you told me not to.”
“Good.” I hissed, tracing my finger along the inside of her leg, stroking her calf. “Was that hard to deny yourself?”
She nodded her head, yes it was. But that wasn’t good enough. “Answer me, Ana,” I said, stern.
“Yes, it was hard not to touch myself.”
Satisfied, I continued stroking her. Even though she was bound, she had a little freedom of movement.
“I can see that you’re slick now, Ana. You look so good. Are you wet for me?”
“Yes,” she exhaled, so obedient.
“This is how I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you.” I moved to her side so I could better reach her. She pulled against her wrist restraints, panting as my tongue trailed down her stomach. I knew she wanted to touch me. But not now. Now, I would make her suffer. Now, I would travel slowly, my tongue dipping a lazy circle around her belly button.
“Ash!” she cried out.
I chuckled, low and wicked, looking up into her eyes. “You like being tied down.” I told her instead of asked. I could tell. She more than liked it. She loved it.
I traced her curves, stroked her limbs, drawing her attention to her restraints. She’d never done this before and I knew she was shocked by it. It took such trust and desire to turn herself over to me, letting me tie her up.
But I could tell she’d thought about it. Those naughty, late night fantasies. But up until now, she’d been a good girl. She’d played it safe. And up until now, she’d never nearly blacked out from orgasms.
I thanked the powers that be for the snowstorm, trapping us. I was glad I’d indulged my wicked mind, letting myself abduct her. Were it not for this, she might have flown back to New York City. Right now, she might have been back at work, 3,000 miles away from me, helping kids check out books. Instead of letting her inner nasty girl come out to play. I knew she wanted this.
She lay there completely naked, tied spread-eagle on the king-size bed, writhing and whimpering. She begged for release, but I knew it wasn’t from bondage. It was from the intensity of the building, cresting orgasm quivering up inside of her. But like a good girl, she needed me to free it. She was a natural sub, and together our wires charged each other, our arousal heightened by the other’s.
I whispered, licking her neck, sucking her there at her sensitive flesh. She tossed her head to the side, baring her skin, giving me full access with a moan.
“Ash,” she begged, shameless, her breasts arching up into two needy, pebbled points at her nipples.
“I knew you had this in you. From the second I met you, all buttoned up in that library, I knew.”
“You couldn’t have,” she protested. But it was true. Underneath that white Peter Pan collar, she might not even have known she had this within her prim and proper exterior. But I could tell. There were pheromones in play, that elusive pull you couldn’t even really articulate. Something intangible. You couldn’t always put together the why. One plus one didn’t always equal two when it came to attraction. If you’d asked me a month ago if my dream woman would be a sheltered children’s librarian who didn’t particularly like to party and had had only one sexual partner in her life, I might have laughed. I liked my sex hard and wild and filthy. From the description of her, she sounded like she’d be more likely to call the cops on me than surrender and submit.
But here she was. All alone. In a cabin shut off from the world in the storm draught-stricken California had been waiting for for years.
“You can scream, Ana.” I licked at her collarbone, trailing fingers along her outstretched arms. “You can yell at the top of your lungs. No one will hear you.”
“Ash!” She cried out as I captured one of her erect, aroused nipples between my teeth, biting down just enough to make it burn so good. I palmed her breast, feasting on her, sucking hard, then light, then just a whisper of a lick around her nipple as she panted and quivered. I loved how she responded to me, so intense, so real. I’d had many more practiced partners, women who knew all the moves and used their talents with the utmost expertise. None of them even came close to the seductive power of Ana’s innocence, her shocked, parted lips, and the desire that led her to overcome her inhibitions. The struggle she had within her, the doubts, overcome with her own physical need.
And the trust she put in me. She’d chosen me to do this to her, with her. She might not see herself as a gorgeously sexy seductress, but, trust me, she was. She had to have men hitting on her every second of the day. She was just so sweet and chaste she probably didn’t realize it, probably turned them down without even realizing she’d had a proposition in front of her.
But she’d said yes to me. At first, because of the children’s library funding. OK, I remembered that. But nothing in our agreement specified this kind of an arrangement. This was entirely of her choosing. And, yes, technically now she was tied down now and at my mercy, but she knew I’d end it in a heartbeat if she wanted me to stop.
She didn’t want me to stop. She was writhing and struggling but loving every second of it. She wanted to be tied down to my bed, at the mercy of my nasty, dirty plans for her all night long. Alone with me, snowed in and at my mercy.
“You can scream when you come, Ana,” I whispered, trailing my tongue down her stomach. Slowly, so slowly. She moaned, and I could tell she felt impatient. If she weren’t tied down, she’d fist her hands in my hair. She’d push my mouth down right where she wanted it.
But she was tied down. I’d tied her tight.
“It will be our little secret,” I continued, down now at her hips. Large fingers over her smooth skin, I worshipped her curves, feathering kisses down her thighs, along the inside. Her ankles were bound at either side to the bedposts.
She closed her eyes and I could tell she felt suddenly shy at her complete and total
exposure. She couldn’t move. She had nowhere to go, no way to hide her desire. I could see every inch of her arousal, all of her sex bared to me. She was dripping for me, her swollen clit aching with need, throbbing and begging for my attention. Yet still, I could tell she was holding back.
“Here in this cabin, you can let yourself go, Ana. Be my little slut. Let me do all the things to you you’ve wanted. What you’ve fantasized about. You can let me know how much you love it. You can scream and come and show me how much you want it, how much you’ll beg for it. No one will ever know.”
“Yes.” She panted, beyond reason, beyond words. “Yes, please.” My lips were so close now, inches away from her sex. My tongue, so hot, so wicked, so close. I wanted her to imagine it, desire it, fantasize about how good it would feel when I finally feasted on her.
“Ana,” I exhaled in satisfaction. “So wet.” Reverently, I brought my fingers to her slick slit, lightly sliding them along, exploring where she was spread for me, aching and ready. “Surrender to me, Ana. The way you know you want to.”
Her head bucked back, her throat bare. A raw groan escaped her parted lips as my mouth finally came down, hot and full, on her drenched, exposed pussy.
She tasted so sweet, so perfect, I groaned into her, licking, sucking. She screamed as I did it, losing herself, the final contact after so much lead-up.
But then I stopped.
“You don’t get to come, yet, Ana.” Her eyes fluttered open wide and she looked at me, disbelieving I’d left her. She was so close. I knew she was. But I wanted her blindfolded when she finally got her reward.
In the closet, I removed a silk band. Scarlet, it would look so good against her skin, the deep red of her lips parted below it. She watched me, brimming with nervous anticipation and arousal.
“Close your eyes for me, baby,” I coaxed her, leaning over to fasten the band of silk around her eyes. I didn’t tie it tight enough to make her uncomfortable, just enough to take away her sense of sight. Her other four senses would be heightened with its removal. She’d still be able to taste my mouth as I sought out her own. She’d become all the more aware of the scent of our desires, hers so feminine, the ying to my yang. Every pant, every breath would ring in her ears. And my favorite, of course, touch. Every feathered brush against her exposed, sensitive skin would rock her to her core.