“That’s not how it works. Either you trust me or you don’t.”
This is my ask. What I meant when I said I needed something from him after giving so much of myself.
“I trust you,” he says after another breath, then moves to the end of the bed.
“Arms up,” I say.
“You serious?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He stretches his arms overhead. I haven’t done this before, but my hands are sure as I fasten the cuffs to his wrists. A kiss to one. Then the other. Just like he did.
His breathing shifts. Quicker, more alert, eyes tracking my movements. I climb off the bed to hook the straps to the middle leg, improvising since the headboard is solid. I pull them just tight enough for the tension to lift his chest. He lies there restrained. Held. At my mercy now.
“You plannin’ to crucify me or fuck me, Web?”
“Both,” I rasp.
And damn if that doesn’t make his cock swell even more.
Dice has a glorious body. I don’t have a particular type. I’ve dated skinny men, fat men, short kings, gym bros, and everything in between. I love the male form, its feel and energy. Dice has those long, lean muscles. Runner’s thighs, toned chest and arms, washboard abs. An ass so tight it could bounce a quarter, and a cock that’s thick and straight, made to ride.
I climb back onto the bed, crawling over him like a tiger stalking its prey. Nipping his jaw, breasts brushing his chest. Red-polished toes grazing his ribs.
“How’s it feel to be in this position?”
“Kinda helpless,” he admits. “I want control back but I’m tryin’ to give in and let you destroy me.”
A smile flirts with the corner of my lips. “That’s how it is when you give your trust to someone you know you’re safe with. Scary but exciting too.”
“Is that how I make you feel, Web? Scared but excited?”
“We’re talking about you.” I skirt the question and lower my mouth to his nipple, tongue flicking before I edge it with my teeth, then suck it into my mouth. He groans. Deep and guttural. I move to the other one, making it hard and wet, trailing kisses down the cut of his abs, feeling the tension coiling in his muscles. I kiss his hip and nuzzle into the manscaped hair.
“Can’t promise to be gentle,” I say, blowing a breath over his cock.
“Jesus.” He jerks. “Do your worst, Web.”
“I plan to.” Another kiss. Lower. Closer.
“Wrap that pretty mouth around my cock. Suck me off.”
I lift an eyebrow.Oh, he thinks he’s still running things. That’s cute.
“You’re not calling the shots this time, Jones.” I grab my panties off the floor—still damp with me—and stuff them in his mouth. Not to gag him. Just to shut that cocky voice up.
His eyes flash. He growls low and muffled.
I lean in, brushing my lips against his ear. “Since you can’t talk, here’s how this goes. Blink twice if you want me to stop. One blink, I know you’re good. Two, I’m done. Clear?”
His gaze locks on mine, steady, defiant. Then one slow blink.
“Good boy.” I wrap my hand around him, thumb circling the tip, smearing his arousal as I stroke him slow and firm. “You look so sexy like this,” I murmur, watching his abs twitch and his arms strain against the cuffs. “All worked up. You want it so bad, don’t you?”
He groans, a desperate, muffled plea.
I pick up a strawberry, slide it up the underside of his shaft, then follow with my tongue, sweet mixed with the saltiness of his skin.
