"I'm blindfolded and my hands are bound, Noah.How much more trust can I show?"
His laugh is not reassuring."An excellent question, Gorgeous.You're about to find out."
He moves.Lifts my left ankle off the floor and something hard and cold touches my Achilles; cold smooth silk wraps around my ankle, tightening, knotting; he’s tied my ankle to an object.
His lips touch my thigh, high up, close enough that his nose nuzzles my sex.I cry out in shrill shock and my right leg clenches around him, trying to snap shut like an oyster hiding its pearl.
"Now comes the trust, Morgan."
His lips skate and stutter down my right thigh, and I feel his fingers wrap around my ankle.Slowly but firmly, he eases my leg away, opening me.
Wider.
Wider.
My thighs shake and I squirm, writhe.I'm bared, exposed.My sex is drenched and clamping on nothing, aroused into panting paroxysms of conflicting feelings—scared, shocked, ecstatic, turned on.
He fits the cold hard thing to my ankle and ties a tight knot, and now I'm fully trussed up for him.My hands are bound overhead, tied to, I assume, the coffee table.My legs are tied spread-eagle, and the cold, hard thing keeps them spread apart.Now, no matter how I fight and writhe, I can't close my legs.
Oh.
Oh god.
"Noah?"
Hot breath huffs over my sex.I jerk, but I can't close my legs.
"Noah, oh god, Noah.Wait, wait."
Immediately, his breath is gone and his hands are at my ankles."You're in control, Morgan."
"I…" my teeth clack together, and I fight for a deep breath."Don't…don't untie me.Keep—keep going."
"As you wish."
Half a dozen differentPrincess Bridequotes swarm through my brain, but I can't make any of them come out—not with his mouth kissing here and there of me, this and that of me.
Ankle.Calf.Knee.Thigh.Hip.Belly.Breast.Nipple.Throat.Mouth.
Nipple, again.
Licking, teasing, tasting.Sucking.Flicking.Flattening in his suckling mouth.
Scraping with his teeth.
Then lips at my belly again, and for the first time in recent memory I don't think about the bunched and wrinkled sagging skin but only feel his lips and his breath, only feel the heat of his kisses, only feel the bolt of arousal rushing through me, and I can't close my legs because they're tied apart and he can see every fold and wrinkle of my sex.
When did I last trim?I can't remember.Am I rocking a seventies porn bush?Oh fuck, I can't remember."Noah?"
“Talk to me, sweetheart."
"I can't remember if I trimmed down there."
His laugh is…amused and aroused."Yes.Within the last week or two, I'd guess."His lips touch my right hipbone, and then drift inward, stuttering over my skin just below my navel, and then lower…
He kisses my mons pubis.The tender silky flesh between thigh, hip crease, and labia.His beard rasps over stubble.
"I wasn't expecting—"
