Moaning, I’m so focused on what his mouth is doing I don’t notice how quickly he withdraws his hands from my shorts and snaps up both of my wrists in his grip.
“And I want these hands tied while I do it all,” he growls, spinning me around, arms held high over my head.
Weston marches me backward, controlling my movements with his entire body as he takes me to the wall in between the bay doors. All I can see is his strong jawline, the golden skin of his neck leading down to his broad chest, covered in a dark, charcoal tee as he manhandles my arms and hands, something cold colliding with my wrists. When I hear the metallic jangle, I realize it’s the chains from the bay door that he’s using to wrap around my wrists and secure me in place.
I do my best to keep my breathing steady, knowing we’re on the verge of a fantasy I never thought I’d see come to life. One where I give full control to someone else and enjoy every moment.
In moments he has me just where he wants me. Weston steps back to admire his handiwork, pulling gently on my arms to make sure they can’t get free from whatever he’s done to them. They’re pulled tight enough to be held high, secure, but not taking any of my weight off of my legs. They might go numb from the position, but it doesn’t hurt, what he’s done.
He’s like my favorite waking dream brought to life right now, just enough domination in his glare to turn me on without making me scared.
Weston has earned my trust in the six weeks I’ve known him, and I’m willing to explore the fantasies I’ve never been able to with anyone else because it’s him. Tied up, under his control, it’s everything I’ve let myself dream of, but yet to experience. One major, major, pin on my “Shit to Do”board that he’s checking off for me.
“You’re going to stay right there,” he tells me, voice firm, finger pointed at me, as his other hand unbuttons his jeans to leave room for what’s already trying to break free from his fly. “Come when I let you. Swallow my cum when I tell you. And scream when you need to.”
My eyes glaze over, lips parting in desire as I watch him like this. If it weren’t for that messy blond hair, that glint in the thin ring of green still in his eyes, I almost wouldn’t recognize the man he is right now.
“What happened to my Boy Scout?” I ask him, taunting him.
“He’s fucking gone for the night, angel. Tonight you’re getting the devil who took his place.”
I moan, head falling back against the wall and knees knocking together as my pussy floods.
Weston smirks at me, and it’s a dangerous look. His eyes flit to the machines next to us, and I realize there are two there but I only recognize one of them. It’s got red and black cables running from it, huge clips on the ends that are used to jump car batteries. This beast is an industrial model that you can’t get at your local store. It could probably jump start a semi.
As for what it could do to little ol’me?
My face heats, a drop of sweat running down the small of my back despite the chill in the air.
That glint in his eyes hardens, sharpening as he walks to the machine, hands running over the cables. He unclips one from where it’s hanging on the cart and squeezes the handle a couple of times, showing me the toothy jaws and how much force it takes to hold it open.
My mouth pops open as I imagine him putting those on my nipples, and I can’t decide if I love the idea or if it terrifies me. I think it might be both.
Am I soaking wet? Yes.
Do I think I could take it? No.
He’s not going to turn that thing on while I’m hooked up to it, is he?
I’ve heard of electroplay, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that tonight.
Smirking, Weston clips the cable back onto the stand. “Just warmin’ you up, darlin’. We’ll save that for another night. I’ve got other plans for you tonight.”
A whimper leaves me. Deliciously cruel of him to tease me with way more than I could take, and now I’m dying to know what he has in store for me tonight.
He takes a step past the cart with the jump starter on it to get to the other machine. The one I don’t recognize, with the hoses. He leans down, flicks a switch, and a loud rumbling starts up, so intense I can feel it vibrating through the wall behind me and the chains I’m strung up by.
“Know what this is, darlin’?” he asks me, picking up the thin hose that comes out of that machine and holding it between two fingers so I can watch.
I shake my head at him, clueless. I might know my way around my own van, but I’ve never worked in an auto shop before. I couldn’t tell you what two-thirds of the equipment in here is for, if that.
Weston presses the hose between my legs, against the fabric of my shorts right between my folds, and I gasp at the sudden contact. He must push something that I can’t see, because along with a deafening burst of noise, the hose jerks so violently I scream at the contact against my clit, even through the layers of clothes that separate us.
“Look at you, already screaming when you need to. You listen so well, Amelia.”
Gasping for breath, my head falls down, system still shocked from the sudden burst of that contact, and I hang, limp, trembling as I try to recover from the jolt of pleasure.
“You keep this up, you’re going to do just fine, angel.”
