But for tonight…
All the rooms with locks on the doors turned out to be occupied, but we found a semiprivate one that a group had just finished using. It was open, so people could come and go, but not quite as exposed as the one where the wax and caning scenes had been going on.
“This will work.” I shoved the backpack off Rick’s shoulders. Before it had even hit the floor, I kissed him. Hands on his neck, body against his, I forced his lips apart, and all thoughts of tying, topping, tormenting him left my brain. I didn’t care what we did right then—I just needed to have him. My hands on him, my mouth on him, my erection rubbing against him or moving inside him. I hadn’t been this horny in ages.
Panting, I broke the kiss. I took a breath to speak, ready to tell him to find the lube and condoms in the backpack, but he gazed back at me with blown pupils, brow knitted and nothing short of “anything you want, please” written all over his face.
In a heartbeat, all those thoughts of tying, topping, tormenting came flooding back.
Oh yes. Oh. Yes. I hadn’t brought him here just to fuck him. There’d be time for that later.
I licked my lips. “Put the backpack over there.” I nodded toward a table at the edge of the room. Beside it was a wooden St. Andrew’s Cross, and Rick’s gaze immediately went to that.
Yes, Rick. Take a good look. You’re going to get to know that thing very well this evening.
“Ever been on one of those?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s been a while, but…yeah. Not one that was made out of wood, though.”
“The metal ones are cool, but I think the wooden ones have more character.”
He arched his eyebrow. “A torture device with character?”
“Well yeah. Sets the mood.” I winked. “And don’t worry. The wood’s been sanded and treated so many times over, I don’t think it’s even possible to get a splinter.”
“That’s a plus, I guess.”
“It is. But splinters or not, it will be cold, which means I want you naked against it.”
Rick shuddered hard.
“Clothes off.” I jerked my chin toward the table. “You can leave them there.”
Immediately, he started unbuttoning that nice dress shirt.
“Wear something that looks good, but you don’t mind getting ripped.”
“Ripped?”
“Yes. Ripped.”
I put up a hand. “Wait.”
He froze, fingers still on a button that was halfway through the buttonhole.
I gently nudged his hands out of the way. “On second thought…” I grabbed the front of his partially unbuttoned shirt and dragged him to me.
“In case I haven’t mentioned it lately,” I murmured against his lips, “you are a walking, talking turn-on.”
He may have tried to say something, but his mouth was now occupied, so all that came out was a muffled moan.
Still kissing him, still demanding his attention and his breath, I snapped the first button off his shirt.
He gasped, nearly breaking the kiss, but recovered. When I pulled it farther apart, ripping another button off, he did break away, letting his head fall back as a shiver jerked his body so hard I thought he was going to drop.
I snapped the third button, and then pushed his shirt over his shoulders. With the shirt half off and pulled down to his elbows, his arms were effectively pinned. I kissed the side of his neck, working my way down to the top of his shoulder, and wrapped my arms around him.
“I want you completely naked,” I breathed against his neck as I ran my hands all over his chest and abs. “Fuck, I always want you completely naked.”
He released a ragged breath and pressed his erection against me.
I teased his hard nipple with my thumbnail. “You’re going to get undressed. And then I’m going to tie you to that cross, and then I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want.”
Rick shuddered hard. “Yes, please.”
“Clothes off.” I let him go. “Stand up against it. Facing me.”
He immediately started on his belt, and while he did that, I unzipped the backpack I’d brought. In it were four small coils of rope, which I laid out on the table beside the cross.
As soon as Rick was naked—my God, he was gorgeous—he stood in front of the cross.
“Perfect,” I said, picking up a coil of rope. I stood in front of him, drinking in the sight of his lean, naked body against the wooden X. Then, with a hand flat across his stomach, I nudged him back so he was touching the wood.
He sucked in a breath.
“Cold?” I asked.
“A bit.”
“Good. Arm up.”
He lifted his arm, and I guided it into place on one of the upper slats. Then I wound the first rope around his wrist and the slat. It was tight—he wasn’t going anywhere—but had enough play for him to move and flex a little bit if he needed to.
I picked up the rope and started on his other arm. Once it was secure, I stepped back and looked him over. Fuck yes. He was even hotter now. Ropes around his wrists. Arms immobile. Torso stretched just right to emphasize the powerful muscles and narrow hips. A body like this was made to be tied like that.