My legs still, earning a grin from my demanding man.
He gently trails his fingertips along the waist of my short denim skirt, unzips it and lets it fall around my ankles, leaving me standing before him completely nude.
He sucks in a breath as his eyes roam down my body, curses under his breath and then chuckles ruefully.
“I think I’m pissed at myself for allowing these men to see what’s mine. I want to punch them all for the thoughts that I know are running through their perverted heads.”
His words warm me, make me feel sexy and strong, and I grin back at him.
“You like that, don’t you, little one?” He kisses my forehead, my nose, and then my lips. “There might be an exhibitionist in you yet.”
I swallow and gape at him. Me? No way!
“I want you to sit with your legs bent and ankles together.” He helps me to the floor and kneels before me, my toes tucked between his knees. He unzips his duffel and pulls out long lengths of red ropes.
“I like red on you,” he murmurs as he begins to loop the rope around my ankles and feet. “You can touch me while I work.”
I smile and push my fingers into his light brown hair as he bends his head over my feet, working intently.
“May I speak?” I ask softly so only he can hear me. The music is too loud for anyone else to hear us.
“Of course,” he replies.
“This is sexy.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” he says. “I’ll be checking in with you to make sure you’re comfortable. Got it?”
“Got it,” I reply. “I love how soft your hair is.”
He snickers and continues to work, looping the cord between each of my toes and back up to my ankles. When each toe is done, he twines the rope around my ankles and halfway up my calf, and then takes my hands and helps me stand.
“Bend your knees again.”
I comply, and Matt runs his hand up my inner thigh to cup my center in his hand. “Good, it’s not too tight.”
My hands are braced on his shoulders, but he grabs two loops that are hanging shoulder-width apart from the ceiling and pulls until they’re at shoulder height.
“Hold on to these so you don’t fall.”
I grip on to the loops and watch him intently. He’s begun to sweat, so he unbuttons his shirt and discards it without a thought, giving me a prime view of his gorgeous chest and abdomen.
I wish he’d turn around so I can see his firm ass in those pants.
But I know he won’t.
He won’t take his eyes off me, not while he’s got me in his ropes.
He crisscrosses the ropes, tying intricate knots, over my belly and around my back. When he walks behind me, I close my eyes, soaking in the feel of his fingers on my skin, the sound of his breaths, tuning out the eyes watching around the room.
Only him and me.
From behind me, he lays kisses across my shoulders and down my spine to my ass, where he presses kisses above each cheek, making me shiver in pleasure.
God, I want him.
I want him to make me come right here, in this room, in front of all of these people.
I want him.
The ropes loop around my breasts and over my shoulders but not around my neck.
“How do you feel?” he whispers in my ear, pressing his body along my length.
“Turned on,” I answer honestly.
“Good.”
He circles me twice, checking over his work, and when he’s satisfied that it’s not too tight and the pattern is to his liking, he approaches me and again presses his body to mine, his naked torso against my own.
“I’m going to tie your hands now,” he whispers against my lips. “If you start to lose balance, just say ‘stop,’ and I’ll readjust. You won’t fall.”
I smile softly and press a kiss to his lips. “I won’t fall.”
“God, I love this with you,” he whispers as he traces the ropes with his fingertips. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He raises my hands up over my head, and the loops I’m holding on to tighten, as though they’re on a pulley. My hands are pulled over my head, but my feet are still comfortably flat on the ground, so I’m not suspended, I’m simply stretched long. When my wrists are touching, he takes one of the loops away and has me clasp my hands together, fingers laced, holding on to just one loop, and begins to thread the ropes around my arms and hands and wrists, making his knots, watching my face. My eyes are trained on his face, enjoying the way his breath has quickened, the slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip, the way he bites his lower lip when he’s working a particularly difficult knot.
It’s like I’m floating, watching him, enjoying his enjoyment of the moment. My body is humming in anticipation, but my spirit is calm. My heartbeat is thrumming, my blood thick in my veins, and my * is as wet as it’s ever been, but my mind is content, and my heart is in love with this man before me.
I love him.
When the last knot is cinched, his hands slowly glide down my arms, my sides, up my belly to my breasts. He takes a step back and then kneels in front of me and presses a kiss to my navel piercing, which he’s showcased in a circular series of beautiful red knots.
He grins and kisses it again, then presses a string of kisses down my abdomen, over my bare pubis, and slips his tongue over my clit.
I suck in a deep breath and watch helplessly as he does it again, his eyes on fire with lust and pride.
“Bend your knees,” he commands and lifts me effortlessly, his hands planted on the globes of my bottom, pulling my core toward his face. My hands grip the loop, and I hold on as he tilts my pelvis up, rests my calves on his head and buries his face in my core, sending me straight into a high I’ve never experienced before.
I cry out as he laps and sucks on my * lips, presses his nose on my clit and buries his tongue deep inside me, sending me into the most amazing orgasm of my life.