“If I fuck you here, where do I— No. Not that.”
“Youmightbe scaring me, again.”
“I’m just thinking out loud.”
After delving in one of his pants pockets, he half pulls out a silver chain or a leash, then tucks it away again, pushes away the clothes. On one of my ankles, he traces near the plastic of the tie where a line of tenderness tells me the skin has been scratched. I hiss as he pokes it.
“I’ll replace the zip ties with something less damaging. Be good for me so I don’t do worse.”
Worse?
This switch to gentler Kail is something else. I’m suspicious, but he turns me over onto my back, cuts off my shirt, panties, and bra, then cuts the ties, and sheathes the knife. My spluttered cries ofnoanddon’twhen he demolished my clothes did not slow him at all.
When I try to sit up and reach for the remnants, muttering threats, he pushes me down and climbs over me, straddles my legs. My thighs are kissed, with his mouth roaming closer tomy mound and where my clit hides, so that I gape and sit up, propped on my forearms. This, I like. Things are changing for the better.
Wedging his knee between my legs, he forces mine apart.
“What did you mean by worse?” I ask, trying to snap my knees together.
Of course, he leans on me, pushes between my breasts to make me lie flat again, brings his other knee to join the first between my legs. I’m spread beneath him. His erection stands up, obvious and maybe threatening that worse. I inhale. Pretty sure I’d welcome that particular worse.
I can’t help staring and hoping.
“Worse as in making you suck me off while I spank you with whatever I find in the kitchen.”
“A spatula?” I frown, pouting at the idea of those old utensils being used, in any way, for sexy stuff.
“Or a knife, or a whisk. The list goes on.” He gathers pieces of my clothing then lifts me off the floor and stands. “Then if you were really bad, I would insert them. Maybe in your ass. What else is in the kitchen that’s dick-like? Rolling pins?”
I hope he’s joking. Lightly, I punch his biceps.
“Ouch. That was not you being good.” He scoops me into his arms and cradles me to his chest as he carries me to the living room.
Here is where the old leather sofa waits in what was a sunroom, a playroom even, when I was young.
An elbow bump turns on the overhead light.
Kail swings me over the sofa as if about to drop me, but then tosses me airward, flipping me in his arms as if I’m a doll. The air whooshes from my lungs, and he drapes me over the arm rest, belly down, legs over the edge. When I wriggle…I’m shoved onto the sofa with a hand on my back, and he worms three fingers into my pussy.
I squeak at the suddenness of this penetration. My pussy though…my walls clamp onto him.
“Give me your hands.”
I hesitate. After all the craziness, I’m wary.
“Hands.” He pumps those fingers in and out, leisurely. The wet sounds as he plunges into a mess of my arousal reminds me of our journey home. I close my eyes, arching a little, remembering how I wanted this. Iyearnedfor it. Then he leans over and bites my ass. I yelp. “Hands. Or else we gets the whisk, Miss Hailey.”
The awful humor, thesorryhe said before, and this forceful reawakening of my desires, that my ass is almost welcoming his hand inside it…I collapse fully and place my hands at my back.
“Good girl.” He straddles my rear and ties my hands together with what must be my shirt. The knot is snugged tight. The wetness left by his handling will be my own arousal.
I sigh and bury my face half in cushion as he again finger fucks me and bites along my back and my ass, murmuring about kink and how he wants to do things to me. His weight leaves me.
He comes around to my front. From the safety of the cushions, I peek out at his legs as he lowers himself. The remains of my bra hang from one hand. With his hand making a V under my chin, he angles my head so he can kiss my mouth.
“Now.” He shows me the length of my poor mangled bra. “Open that mouth so I can gag you.”
Ducking away proves impossible with his hold on my jaw. I blink at him, moisten my lips, which only makes him smile as he watches me. I could argue about gags and whys but theintensity of his need to do this, the hand at my throat, the sheer audacity and sexuality mixes together to somehow excite me. He’s already got me helpless, tied. This…it’s like being decorated, yes, and more. My body thrums with this weird new thrill.
