Julia
My questions about Van’s past faded as lust and yearning filled the void. One by one, my articles of clothing disappeared until I was left fully exposed, completely vulnerable to Van’s ministrations. The cold tile wasn’t the only cause of the goose bumps peppering my flesh or the hardness of my nipples. He sat back on his heels, perched between my legs.
The earlier dullness in his orbs was gone. Van’s gaze sizzled with the heat of his desire. “I need you to trust me.”
“I do.”
He offered me his hand. I stared for a minute, unsure why he’d stopped the foreplay. My core pulsated with unmet need as I laid my hand in his. As I stood, he led me back to my chair.
“I don’t understand,” I admitted.
His lips came to the sensitive skin of my neck and lower to my collarbone. “Sit and let me enjoy our meal and my gift.”
His gift?
Time and trust.
Unsure of what Van had planned, I did as he said.
I licked my lips as he unbuckled his belt. Pulling it from the loops, he said, “Now give me your hands.”
His deep voice rumbled through me as I sat naked upon the chair and offered him my hands. Van took each one and gently kissed each palm before directing me to place them behind me. He followed, out of my sight, behind the chair.
“What are you doing?”
My breath caught as Van began winding the soft leather of his belt around my wrists. My shoulders pulled as he secured my lower arms together. “Van?”
I’d never been bound.
As he continued his mission, the pull in my muscles stayed on the safe side of pain. My pulse kicked up as my breathing shallowed. Each tug was both frightening and erotic.
“Trust me.” His timbre reverberated through me.
I did trust Van. I wanted to. Yet with each jerk of my arms, the unknown prickled my senses. I tried to squirm, but with the way my arms were now locked in place and my breasts pushed forward, I was left at his mercy. Warm breath teased my sensitive skin as he gently moved my long hair away from my breasts and to behind my shoulders, kissing and nipping my neck and lower to my collarbone.
Slowly, he moved around the chair, scanning me up and down. “Spread your legs. I want to see that beautiful, wet pink pussy.”
“Van?”
He cupped my chin, pulling my gaze to his. “Are you wet?”
I nodded.
“Show me.”
Each movement pulled on my arms, but with time, I was able to comply, opening my legs. Once I had, I again met his gaze. The sizzling I’d seen as he undressed me was now ablaze, an out-of-control wildfire radiating palpable heat.
“Van, tell me what you’re going to do.”
“Trust me.”
He wasn’t asking me a question, but if he were, I did trust him. It wasn’t because I was without options—it was because I had given him my trust and he still had it. As I searched the depth of his stare, I voiced what I knew in my heart. “I do.”
Van let out a breath. “Close your eyes and listen to my voice.”
The baritone tenor settled over me as my eyelids obeyed.
I gasped as the chair was moved, turned to the side.