“Yes, I understand,” she said in low tone, knowing he was expecting an answer.
“Take off your shirt, fold it and hand it to me.”
His voice was low and totally mesmerizing. The sound played along every nerve ending, sparking little electrical currents that played over her skin and through her body. She obeyed him almost automatically, her nipples so sensitive that when the material slid over them, she nearly cried out. Very carefully, she folded the top, feeling a little helpless, not knowing where he was. She wanted this. She had waited for this. For him. Her body was on fire already, shaking with need, burning for him, and he hadn’t done one single thing.
Then his breath was on the nape of her neck, causing a shiver of awareness to run down her spine. His arm stretched out past her ribcage, his hand palm up so she could place the top in it before he withdrew once more. She
took a deep breath and let it out, bringing up her arms to wrap them around her body in a comforting hug.
“Keep your arms down.”
His tone was low. Velvet soft. Moving over her skin. She actually felt those notes caressing her body. Goose bumps rose. She dropped her arms to her sides immediately.
“Are your panties damp? Or are they soaked, Flambé? You watched me tie those women and you wanted to be one of them. Now that you’re here with me, is it better than you hoped?” He was suddenly right behind her again, his warm breath in her ear this time. “Which is it? Damp? Or soaked?”
She swallowed. There was no point in lying to him. He was leopard. He could smell her arousal. Worse, he was going to make her take her panties off and then he’d catch her in a humiliating lie. Better to just own up to it. She wasn’t embarrassed about who she was or what she was. Just that she might need more of him than he was willing to or capable of giving her. “Soaked.”
“Take them off and give them to me.”
Flambé hooked her thumbs in the little thong and slid it down her legs, thankful she kept herself in reasonably fit shape. Although she was very curvy, as were most shifters, she was extremely toned from her work outdoors and moving heavy plants around all day. It was much more difficult to hand him her panties. The little strip of lace was definitely more than just damp and her hand trembled. She found herself wrapping her arms around her waist in a hug for comfort again.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands at your sides? Now you can lock your fingers behind your head.”
She hated that she had forgotten what he’d told her to do. She wasn’t that person. She remembered details. She was meticulous over details and she wanted to be very good at this. She had allowed her leopard to rise and be claimed by his, although truthfully, she was a little out of it at the time. Committing to a future meant she would have this. In fact, this might be the only real joy she would have—the only part of Sevastyan he would give to her.
She laced her fingers behind her head obediently. She didn’t apologize on purpose. She wasn’t going to be that person. She was new at this and a little afraid. If he didn’t treat her right, there was no way she was staying. But then, she didn’t want to be lulled into a false sense of security. Wasn’t that what all of them did? Pretend to be wonderful and then cheat with other women? Beat you? Hurt you? Treat you as if you were so much less than they were?
She didn’t want Sevastyan to treat her differently than he had those other women at the club. She knew what to expect from him and she could live with that. If it was just sex and they both went their own way, maybe she could give her leopard a decent life. The second Sevastyan hit her, or wanted anything she wasn’t willing to give, she would use her way out.
Flambé waited again as he walked over to the ropes on the other side of the room. He took off his shirt as he studied the ropes and then glanced at her over his shoulder. He selected two bundles of rope, both black, but different textures. She could see one looked smoother than the other. Ignoring her entirely, he walked up three long curving stairs that separated the huge space designated for his sitting-playroom from where his bed was. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his shoes and then slid his jeans down, only to pull on a pair of soft drawstring pants.
Flambé’s arms were beginning to tire. She was strong and she was used to being uncomfortable, but the position wasn’t one she had ever been in. She had the feeling he was deliberately seeing how long she was capable of holding her arms up before they became wet noodles, which she feared might happen in another few minutes. She called Flamme to aid her. The leopard ignored her, or had completely retreated.
Her body began to tremble with the effort. She refused to give in. Tiny beads of sweat broke out, but she wouldn’t break. Sevastyan stood up and came to her with that slow, silent stalk he had that set her heart pounding. He ran his finger possessively down the side of her neck, right over her pulse.
“Put your arms down, plamya. That was impressive. For a beginner, you did much better than I expected. You have to tell me when you are uncomfortable or if something hurts you, unless the discomfort is deliberate; but that would be discussed ahead of time. I have to know if your circulation is cut off and you have to tell me if your legs or arms or hands start to tingle. The point isn’t to injure you. We both should find this practice pleasurable.”
Flambé allowed her arms to fall to her sides. The relief was overwhelming as he massaged her arms with firm strokes. “Go sit in the chair near the fireplace.” He indicated the high-backed chair that was covered in a dove-gray butter-soft leather.
She pressed her lips together, hesitating. He simply waited, the rope sliding through his fingers over and over, almost hypnotizing her, although he didn’t seem to be aware of the effect the sight had on her. She felt awkward being entirely naked, her body damp with arousal. She had nothing between her and the leather of the chair. Straightening her aching shoulders, she stepped past him, feeling the heat pouring off his body and wishing she could snuggle into it. He looked cold and aloof, but he felt hot as hell.
The leather of the chair was as cold as the room was. She sat properly, folding her hands in her lap.
“You don’t like to sit like that, baby,” he said softly. “We’re just talking right now. Get comfortable. Pull your legs up the way you like.”
How could he know she did that whenever she sat in a chair and no one was around? She drew her knees up, sliding her heels close to her bottom and wrapping her arms around her legs in a hug. She didn’t feel quite so vulnerable, or as on display. Part of her liked being on display for him. She had a good body; not like some of the women at the club he attended, but he never seemed to choose women for their body types. She wasn’t altogether certain he paid attention to what the women looked like.
“Pay attention, Flambé. You allow yourself to drift away and you need to learn to focus at all times. Shibari can be a harmful practice if you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re just as responsible as I am for what we do together. It may not seem like it to you as an observer, but your participation is every bit as important as mine to make what we do enjoyable for both parties. Not only are you cheating yourself if you don’t come to me with the right attitude, wholly focused and prepared to enjoy the pleasure and magic of our exchange, but it’s disrespectful to me and that’s something I will not tolerate. When I call you to me for this kind of play, you are not only to shed your clothes, but our bedroom should be the one place you can let every trouble go. I can take those burdens from you and I will. I insist on it.”
Flambé kept her eyes on the rope as it moved so smoothly through his hands. He was so confident. So completely assured. She had confidence in her work. When she interviewed. When she confronted danger moving a victim out of a dangerous zone into a holding area until she could get them out of the country and into safety. But here, with him, she felt a thrill of trepidation and for some perverse reason, she craved that feeling. She needed it to feel alive.
“You will eventually develop your own ritual, which will help to center yourself. You have to let go of all defenses. I want you to allow yourself the freedom of coming to me as emotionally naked as you are physically naked. Trust me to protect you when you’re in that vulnerable state.”
Her gaze jumped to his face. He hadn’t protected those other women. Their partners had done so, removing the ropes from their bodies and comforting them. Would he do that for her? She had no idea what he would or wouldn’t do. Did she even want him to? That would give him more of an advantage over her, yet she longed to be in the ropes. She knew that would be the ultimate erotic practice for her.
“You’re doing it again, Flambé. When we’re talking together, especially about a subject as important as this one, you stay focused. You can’t let your mind wander.”
She nodded her head. He was right. He spoke in that soft, almost predato