“Addison, remember to ask if he’s green, yellow, or red,” Connie said. “Especially when you’re dealing with ligature.”
She nodded and looked up at Devon. “What color are you?”
“I’m green, Mistress,” he said.
His voice was strained, but his eyes were bright, almost glowing in their intensity. She felt a bead of moisture on her wrist and looked down. Pre-cum had rubbed off the head of his cock.
Addison licked the bead from her skin, savoring the salty flavor. Devon growled low in his throat, and she smirked.Who’s growling now?
Threading the cord through his legs, she trailed a hand over his hip and the underside of his ass as she walked around him.
“Kneel,” she said. She let out the cord but kept enough tension to keep it taut. She straddled his calves and wrapped her palm under his chin, tilting his head back.
“Color?” she asked.
“Green.”
Maybe, but it was costing him. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his shoulder muscles twitched.
“Good boy. Arch your back.”
Devon leaned back and she tied the ends of the cord to his wrists. If he pulled too hard, he’d yank on his dick and sack.
She kicked off her slingback heels next to his shoes. There was no way she was going to be able to keep her balance in those things for what she had planned next. Back in front of him, she lifted his chin to look at her. She slowly bunched up the fabric of her skirt, never breaking eye contact. If she looked anywhere else, acknowledged any of the other people in the room, she’d lose her nerve—and she needed every last bit of it to get through the next part.
This was either going to be heaven or hell for him. “Make me come.”
