fingers over the rope and knots he’d fashioned.
“No. I didn’t mean the rope. I meant my bra.”
“Oh.” He chuckled and a pulse of pleasure converged between her thighs. So now even his laugh turned her on? She was a goner.
“Let me bind your other leg first,” he said, “then I’ll have you sit up.”
He left the free end of the rope dangle from her ankle and picked up another piece of rope to bind her other leg. She had some experience with his motions now, so instead of concentrating on where he was putting the rope and tying it and knotting it, she allowed herself to feel how it affected her body. She most enjoyed the knots between her soles and the piano keys where her feet rested, but the tightness of the ropes on her thighs directed her attention to the open and exposed flesh between them. She hoped he’d do something about that soon; she couldn’t close her legs and squirm as she’d been doing since she’d sat beside him at the breakfast bar and then on the piano bench. Even though he’d taken the edge off with that sweet orgasm earlier, she was hopelessly excited again.
When he had her legs secured the way he wanted them, he ran his hands over the ropes as if checking for flaws in his design. “Does that feel okay?” he asked.
“Feels great,” she murmured.
His lips pressed gently against the inside of her thigh. “Your scent is driving me wild. Will you be able to keep your hands to yourself if I steal a small taste?”
“Yes.” She was lying. Even before his tongue slid sensually over her inner folds, her hands were reaching for his thick, glorious hair.
He moved away before she could latch onto his scalp. He slid a hand between her lower back and the piano and eased her into a sitting position.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, her pussy still quivering from the brief feel of his tongue against her flesh.
“I know if I really get into it, I won’t be able to quit.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Do you trust me to make it good for you?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me do my thing. You still haven’t given up control yet.”
She was letting him tie her up on top of a piano. Just how much control did he expect her to relinquish?
He took the dangling rope ends from either knee and wrapped them around her waist, crossed them behind her back. When he pulled the ropes taut, the action pulled her thighs wide open.
“Ow.” She protested the pull on her muscles. She was stretched to her limit.
“Relax,” he said.
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t sitting on the edge of a hard surface with his legs spread wide in a split.
After a moment, her muscles adjusted and she sighed in relief. Forced yoga. That’s what she felt like she was doing. He tugged the ropes another inch, opening her wider still and then tied the two ropes together just under her navel to hold her in that position.
“I don’t stretch that far,” she protested.
“Yes, you do.”
He slid two fingers over her mound, against her clit and to the exposed, dripping-wet opening farther down. “I was going to put knots between your thighs so you could get your pleasure from the rope.” He massaged her entrance with two fingertips, and she tried to close her legs against the invasion, but her bonds prevented it. “I changed my mind,” he said.
“You’re going to leave me all worked up like this?” She would surely die if he did.
“No, I’m going to give you all the pleasure you can handle. A couple of ropes don’t deserve that privilege.”
She wished she could see his expression. Because it was dark, she felt comfortable in being so exposed, but she also felt she was missing out on all the cues he could be giving her.
He shifted and his chest brushed her breasts as he reached behind her to unfasten her bra. Soon her arms would be rendered as helpless as her legs, so she took the opportunity to embrace him. He stiffened but when she did nothing but hold him in her arms, he eventually began to relax. His
“No. I didn’t mean the rope. I meant my bra.”
“Oh.” He chuckled and a pulse of pleasure converged between her thighs. So now even his laugh turned her on? She was a goner.
“Let me bind your other leg first,” he said, “then I’ll have you sit up.”
He left the free end of the rope dangle from her ankle and picked up another piece of rope to bind her other leg. She had some experience with his motions now, so instead of concentrating on where he was putting the rope and tying it and knotting it, she allowed herself to feel how it affected her body. She most enjoyed the knots between her soles and the piano keys where her feet rested, but the tightness of the ropes on her thighs directed her attention to the open and exposed flesh between them. She hoped he’d do something about that soon; she couldn’t close her legs and squirm as she’d been doing since she’d sat beside him at the breakfast bar and then on the piano bench. Even though he’d taken the edge off with that sweet orgasm earlier, she was hopelessly excited again.
When he had her legs secured the way he wanted them, he ran his hands over the ropes as if checking for flaws in his design. “Does that feel okay?” he asked.
“Feels great,” she murmured.
His lips pressed gently against the inside of her thigh. “Your scent is driving me wild. Will you be able to keep your hands to yourself if I steal a small taste?”
“Yes.” She was lying. Even before his tongue slid sensually over her inner folds, her hands were reaching for his thick, glorious hair.
He moved away before she could latch onto his scalp. He slid a hand between her lower back and the piano and eased her into a sitting position.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, her pussy still quivering from the brief feel of his tongue against her flesh.
“I know if I really get into it, I won’t be able to quit.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Do you trust me to make it good for you?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me do my thing. You still haven’t given up control yet.”
She was letting him tie her up on top of a piano. Just how much control did he expect her to relinquish?
He took the dangling rope ends from either knee and wrapped them around her waist, crossed them behind her back. When he pulled the ropes taut, the action pulled her thighs wide open.
“Ow.” She protested the pull on her muscles. She was stretched to her limit.
“Relax,” he said.
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t sitting on the edge of a hard surface with his legs spread wide in a split.
After a moment, her muscles adjusted and she sighed in relief. Forced yoga. That’s what she felt like she was doing. He tugged the ropes another inch, opening her wider still and then tied the two ropes together just under her navel to hold her in that position.
“I don’t stretch that far,” she protested.
“Yes, you do.”
He slid two fingers over her mound, against her clit and to the exposed, dripping-wet opening farther down. “I was going to put knots between your thighs so you could get your pleasure from the rope.” He massaged her entrance with two fingertips, and she tried to close her legs against the invasion, but her bonds prevented it. “I changed my mind,” he said.
“You’re going to leave me all worked up like this?” She would surely die if he did.
“No, I’m going to give you all the pleasure you can handle. A couple of ropes don’t deserve that privilege.”
She wished she could see his expression. Because it was dark, she felt comfortable in being so exposed, but she also felt she was missing out on all the cues he could be giving her.
He shifted and his chest brushed her breasts as he reached behind her to unfasten her bra. Soon her arms would be rendered as helpless as her legs, so she took the opportunity to embrace him. He stiffened but when she did nothing but hold him in her arms, he eventually began to relax. His
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