“Good girl.” I slide my fingers over her round belly, while using the other hand to reach for the bundle of rope I’ve left on the table.
Slowly, taking my time, as I’ve always liked rope work, I move around the table tying her wrists and then her ankles until she’s bound, though not completely. I like—and crave—to watch her move while I enjoy her, but still keep her bound enough that she’ll feel restrained and trapped to my desires.
Once I tie the final knot on her ankle, I move to the fridge and take out the small glass of ice cubes I’d prepared earlier from the freezer before returning to her. Her breath hitches when I place the glass down on the table and her head turns in that direction. I’m sure she’s curious what I’m doing, but I want the unknown to happen. I want the woman who loves control to be completely out of it. I want her totally in my hands. That’s how she’ll surrender to me, and it’s tempting enough I want to absorb her submission.
I’m careful not to make too much noise when I take one of the ice cubes out of the glass and place the tip into my mouth to dampen it. Then I drag the ice cube across her lip, giving her a taste of what’s to come. She gasps, arching off the table and parting her lips.
“More?” I ask again.
“Please,” she whispers, flicking out her tongue.
The begging nature of her voice wrecks me, testing my control. I flick open my jeans and reach for my cock, stroking myself to soothe the ache, while I drag the ice down the center of her chest and swirl it over each nipple, causing a harsher moan.
Not allowing the high to fade, I drop the ice back into the glass and then I lick up the droplets of water left on her flesh, blazing heat across the icy path. But I’m not nearly done with her, not even close.
“More?” I ask.
“More,” she breathes.
Her chest is falling and rising rapidly when I reach for a leather crop that has a round-tip, black-glass dildo instead of a handle. When I drag the leather down one of her arms, she arches beautifully off my table, begging for its tingly hit.
Perfection.
I drag the crop from her arm, over the curve of her breast, down her stomach, and over the top of her thigh. I watch her breathing, and just as she inhales, I smack the flat end of the crop against her swollen clit. She moans, arching again into the sensation.
Determined to bring that sensation higher, I walk around her, tapping her flesh as I do, her thighs, her nipples, her sex; I don’t stop until her breathing becomes raspy and thick and I notice her legs trembling a little. Then I slide the cool glass dildo of the crop against her skin, and her soft, eager moan tightens my groin.
I reach for a fresh ice cube and insert it into my mouth. Standing beside her, I drag the glass dildo down her body and lean over her in the same moment, and as I hold the ice within my lips, I drag it over her clit to introduce her to the sensation. She shivers beneath me, and then I don’t stop.
Over and over again, I drag the ice atop her clit, until she’s arching against her restraints. Then I swallow the remainder of the ice and drag the flat of my ice-cold tongue over her swollen little bud, while inserting the glass dildo inside her soaking wet folds.
She gives me a sharp gasp that aches in my balls as she begins working her hips in the same movement that I’m thrusting the dildo inside her. I tongue her, bringing her higher, and I stroke the dildo into a rhythm she can’t ignore.
But she’s hanging in there.
“More?” I ask.
She arches off the table. “God, yes—”
I blow against her ice-cold clit, and that’s all it takes. A high-pitched scream blasts through the air and then she’s coming hard, her entire body a quivering mess of satisfaction, as I pump the dildo into her with fast strokes.
When her screams quiet and her body goes lax, I smile to myself, withdrawing the dildo and placing it onto the cloth I’ve left on the table. While her orgasm continues to play out with small shudders and she slowly drifts down from the high, I remove the ropes from her feet and move to her hands, leaving the bindings attached to the table, except for one. I grab that piece of rope, as well as a clip I’ve left on the counter, and then I remove her blindfold.
Her eyes slowly open, and while they’re sedate, the moment she sees me, pants open and cock out, they heat again.
“More?” I ask.
“More,” she rasps.
My cock twitches and throbs, as I help her sit up, then reach for her wrists and bind them in front of her, not surprised that her breath hitches as she watches me. Just the way I like her, in ropes. She likes me putting her in them, I’m sure.
Once I’ve created the second cuff, I insert a clip into the middle of her bound wrists before finishing up with the knot. Then I lift her off the table, holding on to her until she finds her footing, all the while shoving my pants down to the ground.
When she’s solid on her feet, I lead her by her bound wrists to the black leather tantra chair in my living room and take a seat, tugging her with me, helping her climb onto my lap. I place her bound hands over my left shoulder and clip her to the metal loop there. Then I grab her sexy round ass and lower her onto my cock.
A girl like Hadley takes what she wants. And she’s high, higher than maybe she’s ever been, and it’s no surprise that she comes to orgasm fast, grinding herself against me. I slap her bottom with both hands again…and again…and again, letting her use me to get herself off.
Her raspy moans excite me. But it’s the way she watches me that builds pressure in my groin. It’s the way she’s bouncing atop me. It’s the way her sexy body is joined with mine. But it’s her eyes that drive me wild, because there’s something special in them. Something that owns me so completely.