“Go lie down,” he said, his voice commanding.
I crossed the room quickly, dropping onto the edge of the bed and kicking off my shoes. Adrenaline hummed through my veins as I scooted backward. Sebastian climbed onto the mattress after me, his knees straddling my thighs, and made short work of my shirt. Then he pushed me down and sat back on his heels. “Do you trust me?”
I swallowed, my heart jackhammering against my sternum. “I trust you.”
He took my right wrist and wound the fabric around it, then threaded the it through the slats. “Too tight?” he asked as he tied off a knot.
I shook my head, unable to speak. The sensation of the silk against my skin, the sense of surrender, was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
He repeated the process with my left hand, his fingers grazing my pulse as he secured the knot.
When both of my arms were stretched wide above my head, I flexed my hands experimentally. The ties were loose enough to not cut off my circulation, but it was clear I wasn’t getting free until he let me.
“You can tell me to stop at anytime,” he said, his voice gentle. “Just say the word.”
My throat felt dry as sandpaper. “I won’t.”
He kissed me then, deep and slow, his hands braced on either side of my head, before working his way south, planting kisses along my jaw, my throat, the hollow of my collarbone. I pulled at the ties, wanting to grab his hair, but all I could do was arch up into his touch and writhe beneath him. He nibbled on my nipples until I swore, delighting in every gasp, and peeled the rest of my clothes off, avoiding touching my throbbing cock.
I was desperate, every muscle in my arms straining. “Sebastian, please,” I said, my voice embarrassingly needy.
“Not yet,” he said, kissing my shins, my ankles, even the tops of my feet.
I laughed, and he grinned biting the arch of my left foot hard enough to make me cry out. Then he made his way back up my body. At first, his kisses were soft, then not so soft, leaving tiny marks on my skin with his teeth.
I loved it and hated it in equal measure.
Every nerve in my body felt like a live wire, and my dick was leaking like a faucet, leaving a sticky line against my stomach. I thrashed ineffectually, needing more, needing anything.
“Sebastian, I swear to god?—”
He laughed, the sound low and a little bit mean, and holy shit, that meanness did something unexpected to me.
His lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Look at you,” he murmured, trailing one finger lightly up my shaft, making it swell and jerk under his touch. “So desperate.” He dipped his head forward and spit on my cock, and holy fucking shit.
I tugged against my restraints, needing to touch him. To be touched.
Finally—finally!—he wrapped his hand around me.
I nearly came, my hips arching into his tight grip, but he squeezed the base of my cock until the urge to blow faded.
Then he started the whole torturous process all over again.
It went on like that for what felt like hours, Sebastian working me up to the edge, then backing off, over and over again, until I was sweating and shaking. I was out of my mind, babbling, begging, crying his name. I would have let him doanythingto me. I would have confessed every secret, signed away my soul, just for him to put me out of my misery.
“Please,” I whined.
“Please what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. I need to come so fucking bad.”
He lined my cock up with his mouth, rubbing the flushed head over his lips.
I cried out and cursed. “You fucking sadist.”
He chuckled darkly, saying, “I got you.” Then his mouth finally closed around me, his tongue pressing flat against the underside as he took me deeper, his nose coming flush with my pelvis, his throat flexing around me. When he pulled back to focus on just the tip, his tongue swirling around the head where I was most sensitive, I felt tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes.
