“Uh…” Dylan takes a deep breath and turns for the rope. “I have an idea if you’re open to it.”
“Yes.”
His hands pause as he’s pulling the rope down. “You don’t want to hear my idea?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.
“Nope. Surprise me.”
The way his lips curl makes my stomach flip. He pulls the rope down, grabs a camera, and heads for the bedroom, though we don’t stop at the bed. There’s a fainting couch in the corner that he pulls away from the wall with his heeled foot.
I grab it and pull it to where he’s pointing. Is it awkward moving furniture with my dick poking me in the stomach? Slightly.
“Kneel,” Dylan says. “Hands on the back. We’re doing a variation of the balls picture first.”
I do as I’m told and look at him over my shoulder. I don’t miss the way he stares at my ass or the heat flaring in his eyes. I nearly groan.
Dylan takes a deep breath. “Can I touch you? To adjust your position, I mean.”
“Yes.”
He sets the camera on the bed and then comes toward me. I feel his body heat when he’s close enough. His hands feel like hot irons as he adjusts my hands where he wants them, then myknees. He touches the lower part of my back, making me curl slightly so my ass is sticking out. His fingers on my neck, my head, my shoulders are sensual as fuck as he moves me.
Then he’s placing the rope over me, along my back, and hanging loose over my shoulder, where an end curls around an arm. It slides along my spine and my ass crack before pooling between my legs.
When Dylan steps away, I’m panting. I think my cock is leaking, but I don’t move a muscle as Dylan takes photos. He moves all around me, completing a full three-sixty. On his feet. Crouching down. On a ladder, looking down at me. He even lies on the ground, his feet coming out from under the couch I’m on as he takes a picture from that angle.
“Sit back on your legs,” Dylan says, his voice quiet. Husky. “Don’t move otherwise unless you need to adjust to balance.”
“I have phenomenal core strength,” I say and sit back.
“Indeed,” he says. “I can see that.”
I smirk and close my eyes as he adjusts me how he wants me this time. My hands loose at my side, head back. Then comes the arranging of the rope.
“So… I swear to you, I’m not trying to get fresh, but can I, uh, get close to your… erection? I have a vision in my mind with this rope. I won’t touch you inappropriately, I?—”
“Yes,” I answer, cutting him off.
There’s no hiding the way I’m turned on by him. Especially when I feel how close he is to my cock. I feel his breath on my chest, and my nipples tighten, harden. The rope, which isn’t particularly heavy, feels like a weight on my cock as Dylan settles it.
He doesn’t focus solely on my dick, of course. He moves the rope around me—my torso, my neck, my arms. He curls it around my bent legs, having me lean forward slightly so he cansecure my thighs to my ankles and then a new length around my upper body.
I feel tethered. It’s tight but not uncomfortable. It’s a master level of concentration that has me not moving as Dylan circles me, taking photos from every angle. I feel him get closer and then move further away.
“You look good tied up,” Dylan says.
“Is that a variation of ‘those clothes look good on you, but they’d look better on my floor’?”
He snorts. “Now that you mention it, totally could be. However, I’d change it because ropes don’t belong on floors. They belong wrapped snugly around a sexy man.”
Chills race along my spine.
“Lean forward, let your head fall. Like that.”
The only sounds in the room are thetap-tapof his shoes, the rapidclickclickclickof the camera, and the equally quick beating of my heart.
“You’re stunning, Larson,” Dylan says quietly. “Made for… the camera.”
“Am I?” I ask.
