I closed the space between us, standing in front of him with my eyes lowered. “No, no,” his sexy voice, with its undertone of a French accent, rebuked. His fingers tipped my chin up so that I looked at him. “I would like you to keep your eyes on me. I want to watch your reactions.”
He moved to my side. “I would enjoy hearing you moan. Don’t hold it back. Don’t hide from me.” His breath tickled at my ear. A sharp flare of lust combusted in my body as his big, strong hand gripped my forearm firmly and led me in front of the large X of the St. Andrews Cross.
“What do you think?” he asked me, his eyes intent. “Want to be tied up?”
He told me I had safewords. He promised he wasn’t going to punish me. He said this wasn’t going to be very intense. And in Paris, two years ago, I’d trusted him enough to go back with him to his house.
I took a deep breath. Please don’t hurt me, Alexander, I thought inwardly. Then I held my hands out to him. “Okay.”
His gaze locked onto mine before he nodded curtly. He took something out of his pocket. A simple sleep mask, the kind airlines used to hand out to passengers trying to block out a little light. “Close your eyes,” he said. His fingers placed the mask over my eyes. Elastic gripped the back of my head, holding it in place.
My vision wasn’t completely cut off. If I peeked, I could see my toes. I could see Alexander’s loafer-clad feet as well. A glimmer of light was still visible. It kept my fear at bay. “Good?” his voice asked.
“Yes Sir,” I responded. With my eyesight curtailed, my hearing felt more acute. His voice was smooth on the surface, but was jagged with tension underneath.
“I’m going to tie your wrists and ankles to the cross,” he told me.
I felt the rope wind around my wrists. I’d caught a glimpse of it yesterday when he’d given me the tour. It was bright red in colour. Soft to the touch, though when I tugged at my restraints, the bindings held firm. “You have a small range of movement,” he advised. “Try it.”
He was right. I could move my wrist a couple of inches in any given direction. “Are you planning on staying out of reach?” I snarked at him.
He laughed. “What are you going to do to me, cherie?” I felt his fingers on my ankle. First the one was bound, then the other. Again, I had a tiny bit of range, but not enough to wriggle free. “You can stamp on my toe, if you’d like. Those high heels seem like they could cause a lot of damage.” I heard the amusement in his voice.
I grinned too. “You are wearing shoes,” I pointed out. “Your toes seem protected.”
He chuckled. I felt his lips on mine, and my own parted. His warmth was so necessary to me at this moment, like a blanket I could wrap myself in and stay safe.
“Are you ticklish, Jenny?” This time, he just sounded panty-melting hot. His voice dripped with sex appeal.
“Don’t,” I squealed. I was tied up on the cross, and my sleeveless dress provided no protection from his teasing fingers. He traced a path on my arms, ticking at my upper arms, coming closer and closer to my painfully sensitive armpits. “Please…”
“Please Sir,” he coached me. His fingers just grazed over that spot and I started writhing and giggling.
“Please Sir,” I begged again.
“If you insist,” he teased. His hands moved to cup my breasts through my dress instead, and his lips nipped at a bud through the fabric. I inhaled sharply as a shudder of pleasure ran through me. “This dress,” he said, his voice muffled against my chest, “is very much in the way. Are you attached to it?”
“It’s one of yours,” I told him. “It’s undoubtedly some designer label and is worth thousands of dollars.” I couldn’t keep the mockery out of my voice.
He ignored my tone. “In that case, I feel no regret about what I’m going to do next,” he said smoothly. “Hold still. I’m going to cut it off.”
I tamped down the sudden fear in my heart. I had to get to Dylan. That was why I endured this.
Liar, my conscience rebuked. I wanted to get past the fear and trust Alexander. Every bit of my heart yearned for that.
I heard the snip of the scissors and I held very still. The cold steel grazed against my shoulders and my front, and then the pieces of my dress fell from me. Alexander growled as my bra and panties came into view. “White and pink,” he said. “Very innocent.”
I bit my lip as the bra cups were pushed down and those nimble fingers tweaked my nipples. I moaned as a storm of sensation assailed me. “Alexander,” I whined.
A sharp pinch greeted that. “Sir,” I corrected myself. “Please…”
“What is it, Jenny? Is there something you want to ask me?”
I didn’t know what I was pleading for. I did know that the way I was restrained, with my eyes blindfolded, everything seemed magnified. Every sensation was a thousand times stronger. My panties were plastered to my *, soaked through by my desire.