I gather up these crumbs of information and savor them, greedy for more.
I’m still facing the cross, close enough that I could take a step forward and lean my forehead against the cool leather. The dom approaches me, stopping a few paces away.
“No handcuffs tonight?”
“No.” I put my arms behind my back so my wrists cross over my spine. “You said you would tie me up.” The words are burned into my brain.
“So I did.” He’s closer to me now, and I get a sense of the breadth of him. Just like I’ve imagined. He’s so big he could swallow me up in his massive frame. He’s not just tall but broad in the shoulders and chest—exactly how I’ve sketched him over and over again.
And I’ve just revealed that I’ve obsessed over what he told me in the first scene.If we scene again, I’ll use rope to tie you.And now that I think of it, he sounded sure that there would be a next time.
How did he know? Have I revealed too much? My throat tightens.
“Breathe, little bird.”
There it is. His endearment for me. My exhale makes me lean against the cross as if my held breath were the only thing holding me up.
“That’s it. You’re okay. Keep breathing for me.”
Now, it’s a command. And that makes it easier.
He waits, breathing with me, standing so close I could swoon into him, and he’d catch me. “You didn’t have much more in your request for the scene this time. Just that you remain blindfolded and that there be impact play.”
I nod. I’d left it open-ended for a reason.
Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to let go?
Who am I kidding? He read me from the first, taking stock of the little information I gave and using it to dig into my psyche. Not unlike my work. He’s as deep in my head as I get into the heads of criminals when I’m hunting them. Profiling me as I profile them.
“You didn’t specifically mention no touch this time,” he says.
He’s going to touch me. I tremble against the cross. Little sparks of lighting fly over my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“It’s okay, Inara.” His use of my name brings me back. He can tell I’m panicking. “I’m not going to. At least, not skin to skin.”
He’s backed away, giving me space to freak out.
“I must admit, I took the liberty of thinking things through even before I saw your second scene request. I have a possible solution. If I may?”
Something brushes my fingers. Strong and buttery smooth—leather?
“Gloves,” he says, and it’s so beautiful, so simple, this solution he’s come up with, that I smile. I rub the soft leather between my fingers, imagining it covering his hand.
“If I wear them, may I touch you?”
“Yes.” Desire thickens my voice. “Yes.”
“Good.” He pulls the gloves away. “Raise your arms and place them against the cross.”
He’s across the room now, at the wall of toys. There’s a thunk as he sets down his drink and more sounds of him shuffling through implements.
I bring my arms up against the cross and press my wrists to the leather.
He comes to stand behind me. Something brushes the back of my hand.
“Rope,” he says. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
