I’m barely dressed in a liquid onyx peek-a-boo outfit with strips of leather that do nothing more than hide my nipples and push my breasts up. Thin leather straps slide down to the micro-est miniskirt, G-string, and laced leather ties go from my seductive black suede high heeled platform pumps all the way to my thighs. It’s a rocking outfit.
Josh pulls a long hissing breath through his teeth as his hands move from the tops of his thighs to his knees and back up again—probably to help re-navigate some blood flow.
I tap my foot on the remote control for the room’s sound system, then shove it out of the way.
Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” wafts through the speakers and subwoofers, and I can feel the bass thump in my body.
“Tonight I’m your wife and your slave queen—and your wish is my desire to fulfill.” Hot words that could easily have me in hysteric embarrassment, but the wide-eyed hunger and appreciation in my man’s gaze tells me I’m doing it just right.
I kick my leg up then wrap it around the pole and let myself slide to the floor. I spread my legs wide and, planting my feet, reach up, grip the pole and lift myself back up, making sure to let my head and hair hang back low as my breasts follow me up. Slowly I gyrate then slide the cool metal pole between my legs.
I don’t look at him—I can’t yet! I’m not exactly demure, but shy—yeah.
Don’t think, Soph, just do.
I face the pole, turning my back to him, and calculatedly shake my ass by alternating my hips up and down and bending my knees. I’m not much of a dancer, but I watched a lot of Shakira videos to prepare for this moment.
Holding the pole, I swing down to the side, this time catching his eyes. The expression on his face like he’s going to lick every inch of my skin and fuck me into oblivion by the time he’s done with me is well worth it.
Josh moves his chair closer so he can sit up front and center stage. He’s so close to me I can feel the erotic electricity that’s generated by my actions and his nearness.
Coming to the front of the pole, I roll my hips seductively.
He keeps his penetrating gaze steadfastly on me while he unfastens his jeans and lets his legs fall open. I can see his amazingly hard cock peeking out from his briefs.
This is such a turn-on! I lift my arms above my head and hold tight as I lower myself, bend my knees and spread myself so he can see the sweet zipper that’s the only thing between his tongue and my *.
Keeping his eyes locked furiously on my body he takes a drink.
Oh yeah, he’s having fun!
That gives me the power to look into his eyes and keep them there.
He smiles, and then so do I.
Leaning my back against the pole—and hoping fervently that I don’t fall over—I run my hands from my knees up against my thighs, north over the leather straps to my breasts and onto my throat.
With that, he runs his hand over his cock to his balls, applies pressure, then comes back up his shaft and frees it from the fabric, exposing his rod completely.
It stands at attention and begs to be sucked.
But not yet …
I lift myself to standing then rest the foot of my shoe on his shoulder and lean in closer so he can smell my perfume.
I’m not smiling anymore—and neither is he.
I feel like a sexy goddess as I push off of him, and holding on with one hand, I walk around the pole, rotating my neck and allowing my hair to flip wildly.
When I stop, I see his hand is working up and down his own shaft.
It’s such a fucking turn-on to see him doing that!
So I turn, lean down the pole so my ass is straight out towards him, then slide back up, hugging the pole close.
“My slave-queen-wife, right?”
Uh … oh. I keep my eyes on him carefully and roll my hips, creating waves. “Yes.”
“Come stand at the front of the pole, lower yourself and spread your legs again.” It’s not a request.
I do it.
Josh’s hands start at my toes. “Jesus, I love these shoes.”
“Thought you might.”
“And I love that you went through with it and got the tattoo.” He gently kisses the tiny pink lotus blossom that he chose for me and had Liam ink above my ankle.
“I love how you know me.”
He traces up the lines of the leather ties winding up my legs—resembling something between a sexy stocking and bondage ties.
“Oh, baby,” he purrs.
I keep my back solid against the pole and stroke my hands into his hair.
“Baby, I didn’t tell you to let go of the pole,” he says most seriously. “Hands back up over your head—grip it.”
Oh my God. I do it and very suddenly feel completely exposed.
Once my hands are where he wants them he says, “Don’t move them again. Not until I tell you to.”
My lips part and I suck in a shocked breath.
It’s consensual bondage—my arms over my head and body exposed to his liking, for his taking. With anyone else this might feel risky, but with Josh, I feel nothing but pure abandon.
He no longer touches me, but brings his head and mouth near to my center, burns his gaze into mine and gently blows his warm breath over my intimate area.
I mewl and realize he’s turning the seductive tables on me.
He watches my face as he reaches between my legs and slowly pulls the zipper down until my naked, very hot core is laid bare.