Page 86 of Stay Wild Darlin’

This was every fantasy of mine come true—wrapped in soft trust, a white tank, and the sound of her calling me cowboy with a smirk on her lips and fire in her eyes.

She was in my space.

She knew the word.

She trusted me to take it from here.

And I would.

She stood in the middle of the garage, barefoot, eyes wide with trust and a flicker of nerves. I took my time walking around her, letting my hand graze her hip as I passed, then stopped in front of her.

“Clothes off,” I said gently. “Slowly.”

She nodded, pulled her tank over her head, pink jeans sliding down her hips a moment later. No panties. No bra. Just her—bare and soft and perfect under the low light.

“Goddamn,” I muttered. “You’re somethin’ else.”

I stepped closer before reaching for the rope I had brought back from the hotel, grabbing extra from the basket in the back.

“This is gonna feel different,” I murmured, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “You tell me if anything’s too much. I’ll stop the second you need me to.”

“I trust you,” she whispered.

I nodded, then turned to the rope. My hands were steady as I picked up the first coil.

I started at her chest.

I looped the rope around her torso beneath her breasts, keeping it flat and smooth against her skin. I pulled it snug, watching her body shift subtly in response. Not too tight, but enough tension to make her feel it.

The second pass crossed above her breasts, framing them perfectly. I threaded the rope between them, down her sternum, cinching the center in a clean, symmetrical knot that pressed lightly into her skin. My knuckles brushed her nipples as I worked—already hard, already begging—and she let out the softest whimper.

“You’re doin’ so good,” I said, my voice low as I moved behind her. I anchored the harness there, tying the ends off at the base of her spine, the knot resting above the curve of her ass.

I grabbed the next length and moved to her hips, wrapping the rope low, around the soft swell of her waist. I wound it twice, then dipped it between her legs. Her breath caught and her thighs trembled. The rope slid through her folds, parting her gently before I pulled it back up, tight, then anchored it behind her again.

I kissed the spot where it disappeared between her legs, right above the knot. She gasped, her fingers flexing at her sides.

“Still good?” I asked.

“Yes,” she breathed. “More.”

“Listen to me first.” I brushed my thumb along her thigh. “If you feel pins and needles anywhere on your body, you tell me. No toughin’ it out. I’ll cut you down.”

Her throat bobbed. She nodded.

I dropped to one knee and took the next coil, wrapping it around her upper thighs. Each pass was slow, snug, building a band that hugged her flesh and pressed into the soft give of her skin. I tied it off with a small knot against the outside of her leg, then repeated the same on the other side.

Then her ankles—careful, controlled, each one looped, secured, checked twice.

“You ready to fly, darlin’?”

She nodded, breathless. “Please.”

I moved around her, clipped the carabiners to each point—ankles, hips, the chest harness—and began to lift her, inch by inch. The pulleys groaned softly as her body left the ground, suspended now by the care in my hands and the knots at every point. A thick mat sat beneath her, covering the floor in case anything slipped.

She hung there, weightless but bound. Her back arched slightly from the pull, legs spread wide, arms still loose at her sides.

“Arms up,” I told her gently.