I say nothing, just absently tug on the bindings holding me.
“Careful,” he says. “Your instinct is to tug, but if you stretch your muscles too far, you’ll be in pain tomorrow. Not terrible pain or anything, but you’ll feel like you did some hard lifting.”
“All right.” I force my arms to relax.
“I have a marvelous view of your pussy from here,” he says. “Already I see how wet you are for me.”
My body quivers. Braden, of course, is still fully dressed, as usual. But he looks delectable. His lips full and firm, and his hands with those beautiful, thick fingers. I want them inside me.
He grabs one of my legs at the ankle. “I want to see how flexible you are. I’m going to bring your leg forward, and if it starts to pull too harshly, tell me to stop.”
I’m not as flexible as Tessa—she out-yogas me every weekend—but still, I’m flexible enough. I keep my legs straight, and it isn’t until my leg and my body form an acute angle that I tell him enough.
“Very nice.” He repeats with the other leg. “Very nice indeed. I’ll be able to bind your legs in many different positions.”
I tingle. He’s never bound my legs before, and while the idea intrigues me, with my arms bound, the only way I can touch him is with my legs. I can wrap them around his back, slide my calves over the globes of his butt, glide my feet down his hard thighs and calves.
“Not tonight,” he says. “We need to ease into that. I want to see how you do with this new form of arm binding. Remember to relax.”
I’m tugging again. I didn’t even notice, but he’s right. I consciously relax my arms once more, trying to think of them as rubber bands.
“I’m wondering… Should I blindfold you tonight?”
Is he asking for my opinion? I have no idea, so I say nothing.
“I think I’ll let you keep your sense of sight tonight,” he says. “I want you to see me fuck you. In fact…I want you to see everything.”
Am I supposed to answer? He hasn’t told me not to speak.
“Whatever you want,” I say.
“Good answer.” He smiles slightly as he loosens his tie. “I’m going to undress for you now, Skye. Slowly. I want you to watch every deliberate movement I make, and I want you to tell me what you’re feeling as you watch me.”
“Okay. Right now I feel like I want you inside me.”
“Easy. You know we always get to that. Focus on your sense of sight tonight, Skye. I told you I want you to see everything. Tell me what the sight of me does to you.”
I nod, unconsciously moving my hips. Somehow, the slight elevation makes me move better.
Braden throws his tie over the back of the chair and unbuttons his shirt to reveal his white tank. He brushes the cotton dress shirt over his shoulders, bearing them.
I suck in a breath. “I love your shoulders. They’re so tanned and broad.”
He doesn’t respond, simply pulls the tank over his head and tosses it.
My nipples are hard, and they’re yearning for his fingers, his lips, his teeth.
“You’re not telling me what the sight of me does to you, Skye.”
“My nipples are so hard,” I say. “I want you to touch them, to kiss them and suck them.”
He unhooks his belt and kicks off his shoes. Then he unzips his pants, slides them over his hips, and steps out of them. He stands only in boxer briefs and socks. His bulge is huge.
“Braden, you’re gorgeous. I want you so much right now.” He removes his socks quickly, slides off his boxer briefs, and steps out of them.
His cock juts out long, hard, and thick.
“I’m so wet, Braden. So damned wet. I need you inside me. I need your lips on my nipples.”
He approaches the bed and sits down. “Look at me.”
I meet his fiery blue gaze.
“Do not take your eyes from mine,” he commands. “Watch me. Watch my eyes as I fuck you. Tonight is about seeing, Skye. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Tell me what you see.”
“I see you, Braden. I see your beautiful blue eyes looking at me. I’ve never felt so beautiful as I feel when you’re looking at me.”
“You are beautiful. Very beautiful.”
“And you’re magnificent.”
“I want you watching now. Not feeling, not hearing, not talking, not smelling or tasting. Simply seeing.”
“Okay, Braden.”
He brushes past me, completely ignoring my breasts.
“Braden…”
He swats me lightly on my thigh. “I said no talking.”
I nod. Yeah, he did. I can handle no talking. How am I supposed to not hear or smell?
How in the world am I supposed to not feel?
He lightly trails his fingers over the tops of my thighs. I shudder. It feels as though butterfly wings are fluttering against me.
Except I’m not supposed to be feeling.