Make Me Feel by Beth Kery

Chapter One
    Harper had feared the idea of a rope restraint, worried she’d find the experience degrading and scary. But of course Jacob challenged her fears with his low, seductive voice and patient description of what he’d do. Then the process began, and she found the anticipation almost unbearable.
    When he’d told her he planned to fuck her hard once she was restrained, forbidden arousal had shot through her. She’d also noticed the towel he brought, and thought she knew what it signified. He planned to come on her again. It excited her beyond belief, the idea of being the helpless target of his lust, the prospect of watching him lose himself to pleasure.
    Besides, it took only a minute of watching him methodically binding her legs to make her realize she was witnessing a sexual art. He maneuvered the rope with deft expertise, applying constant surface tension with his hands. His tightening of knots somehow never burned or chafed her skin. He bound her very firmly, but there was never discomfort. She experienced only a slow, delicious surrender as more and more of the black silk rope covered her skin.
    Finally, he stood next to the bed and looked down at her, his expression tight and unreadable. But his eyes seemed to burn her as they completed a tour of her naked, bound body.
    He’d looped rope from her ankles all the way up her lower leg, each pass also capturing her upper leg, so that her calves were held very snugly against the back of her thighs. Only her knees and feet were free of rope. He’d wound the rope around her forearms and wrists, as well. With the aid of his expert knot tying, her hands had been restrained to rope just above her knees. She was spread wide. Her dark red pubic hair and pale stomach stood in stark contrast to the black of the rope. Jacob could see more than her.
Much
more. As he stared between her thighs right now, he looked directly at her open, aroused sex.
    She couldn’t help but see the beauty of his work. The black rope against the canvas of her pale skin struck her like some kind of Japanese sex art: clean, sleek . . . and
oh
, so utilitarian.
    “Do you want to struggle, Harper?” he asked, his heavy-lidded gaze traveling the length of her body to her face.
    The question took her by surprise. She felt strangely secure in the restraint. There was a surprising amount of rope on her. She found the weight of it somehow comforting. Maybe because it was clear there was no escape. Not that she wanted to escape, but . . .
    “No,” she said. “Do you want me to?”
    “No. It’s different for everyone. Some like to struggle. It arouses. I’m glad you don’t want to. This time. You’re ready to submit from the get-go, aren’t you?” he asked thickly.
    He reached between her thighs and dipped his forefinger into her slit. She gasped as he penetrated her. “You like to be tied up, period. Don’t you? You’re so damn wet,” he grated out. He bent, lowering over her bound form, and slid his finger out of her vagina. He pushed the ridge of it between her labia, rubbing her in a bull’s-eye fashion. Her feet twitched upward in the air at the exciting sensation. She saw his heavy erection flick upward behind the thin, insubstantial fabric of his pajama bottoms. He grunted and reached beneath the low waistband, whisking the length of his cock out of the garment. She moaned. His cock was swollen and flushed, the surface tension of it seemingly as taut as the ropes he’d put on her body. For a tense, thrilling moment, he jacked himself firmly from root to tip, twisting his hand slightly just below the fat, delineated head with each pass. All the while, he stimulated her clit. She stared at him, lust-drunk. She felt so much in those moments, and was helpless to do anything but allow it . . . to drown in it.
    He straightened after a moment, his mouth shaping into a snarl. He cupped his firm, round testicles on the last pass of his hand, squeezing them tautly, the stalk of his