“Okay, yes, or okay, I don’t really want that, but I’m agreeing because I think I should?”
“Yes. Do it. Whatever it is, I’m into it.”
“Do not give blanket consent like that. Ever.”
“Ugh. Oh my god, fine. I’m saying yes, Professor Kinkmeister,” she grumps, a smile in her voice. “Please, please, for the love of all that is kinky, touch my shoulders.”
Oh great. She’s a brat. Sweet, eager, and submissive, with an attitude. Somebody’s going to have their hands full with this one.
Smirking now, I stroke her satiny skin. “Arms? Back? Neck?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
She shivers as my knuckles skate over the places I’ve just mentioned, then down her arms until my hands are circling her wrists like shackles. Or rope. Measuring the circumference of her frame against mine. She’s thick in places—her ass and her belly, the tops of her arms, those lush tits that threaten to spill over the neckline of her dress. Her wrists, though, are as delicate as her neck. I like that contrast. Big versus little.
I go back to her shoulders and rub them again, putting a little more pressure into the contact this time, offering her the strength of my fingers and taking a little of the tension she’s clearly got stored right… there.
As I dig my thumbs into that tender spot beneath her shoulder blades, she moans and drops her head forward, and without fully intending to, I lean in and start whispering in her ear. “Look at what a good girl you are, all warm and relaxed like this. You always moan when you get touched? Hm?”
She shakes her head and then, appearing to remember herself, says, “No. No, I never moan.”
“It’s a beautiful sound. Goddamn siren’s song.” I shift my hold and press in again, working out a knot she’s probably been sporting forever. “Shit, you’re tight. Right…” I press gently but firmly. “Here.”
Her whimpers are absolute music to my ears.
“Lean back,” I tell her. “I need to see your face.”
“Okay,” she manages as I nudge her head to rest against my shoulder. Her expression’s relaxed and easy until I push that magic knot again, sending her expression into that indescribable limbo between ecstasy and agony.
The kinkster’s sweet spot.
“You gorgeous little thing. Look at you, all blissed out.” I run my thumbs up, soaking in the way she shudders and grunts every time I hit something good or tight or too tense to handle. “I’m gonna work out every single one of these kinks, you got that?”
With a smile, she shifts, leans forward again, and spasms.
“Sunny, are you hurt? Was it too much pressure, or—”
“No! No, I’m good.” Shaking again, she nods and leans back, tears leaking from her eyes. “It’s just… When I decided to try out my first kink club tonight to work a few things out, I had no idea just how literal it would be.”
“Literal?”
“You said… you said you were gonna work out…” She’s giggling now, definitely. Not crying, which is a relief. “You said you’d work out mykinks, and I feel…” Another yip of a laugh has me staring down into her face. “I feel like you’re doing a bang-up job.”
Yep. One hundred percent brat. “Yeah?” Suppressing a smile, I press that hot spot of hers again and watch her groan and sinkback with a gasp. “Come on. Let’s get you relaxed, sweet girl. Tell me what you think about, Sunny, when you come home from work and slip into a hot bath.”
“I don’t have a bathtub.”
I make an irritated noise.
“Yeah. I miss baths.” She turns and stretches when I hit a tough area on the side of her neck. “Just a crappy little shower.”
“All right, then. What do you think about in theshower?”
“Um… You mean, like this morning?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, well, um…” The way her eyes go glassy tells me she’s going deep in search of her deepest, most secret fantasy.
