All That He Requires(18)

I kept busy, too.

First I soaped up my hands and reached around to his backside.

Ohhhhhhhh my God.

I sincerely hope that someday you get to hold as fine an ass in your hands as I did right then.

I roved my fingers over his cheeks – firm, muscular, powerful – soaping them up, playing with them, clutching them tight as I could.

Of course, that pressed something else up against me. So, after a few minutes, I moved on to it.

Again I soaped up my hands and started with the insides of his legs. I worked my hands up slowly… caressing the well-defined outlines of his muscular thighs… and then my fingers brushed against his balls.

I didn’t go too fast, though. I just kept my soapy fingers playing along his legs, up to where they joined his body, letting the backs of my fingers graze against his more sensitive parts. And then I took the tip of one finger, soapy and slick, and lightly touched his sack. Traced my finger across the sensitive skin, around the pendulous weights… and then cradled his balls in the palm of my hand.

With the other hand I made a ‘C’ with my forefinger and thumb, and lightly – barely touching his skin – started to move up his rock-hard shaft. There was more friction from the soap bubbles than there was from my actual hand.

He groaned.

I figured I was on the right track.

I made my way all the way up to the head, and then I moved my hand slowly back down, all the while softly caressing his balls, soaping them up, feeling their weight in my palm.

He stopped kissing me and just stood there, eyes closed, mouth open, and moaned.

I turned him slightly, letting the water hit him and wash away all the soap.

And then I bent over.

He was so long, I didn’t have far to go.

I took his firm, swollen head in my mouth.

He groaned louder and braced his hands against the tile walls.

The spray of the water played over my skin as I went down further – one inch, two inches, as much as I could take of something so huge in my mouth – and then came back up and licked the underside of his shaft.

Then I plunged down again, a little bit further, wetting him with my mouth, slicking him down with my tongue.

He was groaning more or less non-stop by now.

That was when I stood up and immediately shut off the water.

His eyes flew open in shock.

I smiled sweetly, let my fingers trace along the underside of his cock, and then pulled away as I stepped out of the shower.

“All clean,” I announced, grabbed a towel, and headed into the dark bedroom.

If I were to describe it in a country song, he watched me go like I’d just run off with his pickup truck, his dog, and his last bottle of whiskey.

Maybe I could pull off that ‘making him want me more than I want him’ thing after all.





22





He didn’t let me get away with it for long, though.

I was about ten feet away from the bed when he came racing out and almost tackled me from behind, his wet, powerful body smacking hard against my back.

I half-shrieked, half-laughed as his arms wrapped around me and pressed me hard against him.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he whispered hoarsely in my ear.

I tilted my head up and turned it towards him.

He kissed me hungrily as his hands founds my breasts and fondled them, hot and wet in his hands.

I broke off the kiss this time. “How do you want me to make it up to you?” I asked innocently, batting my eyes.

“I can think of a few ways,” he whispered, then turned me around so we faced each other. Then he grabbed my ass and began kissing me fervently again.

I ran my hands over the wet skin of his back, and felt his throbbing shaft – slick from my own mouth – slide across my belly.

Then he pulled back, and I swear he would have twirled his mustache if he had one.

“…I know,” he whispered.

Uh oh.

“…wwwwhaaaat?” I asked warily.

He grinned and pushed me down on the bed.

“I’m getting the bed wet!” I protested.

“Before I’m through with you, it’s going to be a lot wetter,” he growled.

Oh my.

I waited and watched as he retrieved a couple of candles from the bathroom and put them on the tables by the bed. Then he went over to the closet and reemerged carrying four ties.

My mouth dropped open. “Um…”

“I want to tie you up,” he whispered.

“Ummmm…”

“Come on – you’ve let me do other things to you that you liked.” He paused. “You did like them, didn’t you?”

I blushed in the candlelight, and took my sweet time to answer.

“…yes.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He knotted one end of the tie around my left wrist. Not too tight. The cloth was so soft that it could have been tighter, actually.

“Isn’t that tie really expensive?” I asked, worried.

“So?” he asked as he lashed the skinnier end to the headboard, pulling my arm out at an angle.

“So should you use it?”

“Never been put to a better purpose, I can guarantee you that,” he murmured as he moved across me, pausing to kiss me (and let me feel the delicious brush of his cock against my thighs) before he moved on to the other arm and my legs.

Within sixty seconds I was lying spread-eagle on the bed, with silk shackles tied firmly around my wrists and ankles. My legs were forced apart at a ninety-degree angle, the most private parts of me exposed, as Connor stood at the foot of the bed devouring me with his eyes.

I watched as his massive hard-on seemed to swell just a little bit more, the head lifting further into the air.

“Very nice,” he whispered, his eyes taking in the ‘V’ of my legs.

I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about this.

On the one hand, the ‘being tied up’ part wasn’t doing much for me.

But the feeling of total submissiveness was.

So, okay, maybe it was doing something for me.

I felt a certain amount of embarrassment as his eyes lingered over my lower parts…

…but I can’t deny how much I enjoyed the look in his eyes, either.

Or how wet I was.

And not just from the shower.

He knelt down at the foot of the bed, his eyes locked on mine. He began to softly kiss and lick my skin, still beaded with water from the shower, starting with my foot. His tongue and lips slowly moved from my calf, to my knee, to my inner thigh, up to my wide-open legs.

By the time his mouth enveloped my lower lips, I was trembling.

And I discovered something else: whatever my feelings about being tied up, the resistance was wonderful. I could strain and fight against the bonds – which I did – and it just heightened my pleasure. I don’t know why, but I really enjoyed the sense of struggling and powerlessness…

…as he slowly took me with his tongue and mouth.

His fingers smoothed away the water droplets on my belly as his tongue stroked me, caressed me, parted me, filled me.

I moaned and tensed my arms, pulling hard – but nothing happened.

I was trapped there.

I couldn’t get away from the pleasure.

He moved one hand up to my chest and softly massaged and played with my breasts. At the same time, he began to circle my clit with his tongue, caressing it, flicking it softly, pressing against it with a firm, wet pressure and then sliding away, leaving me aching for more.

“Oh God,” I moaned as he softly pinched one nipple and took all of me down there in his mouth, pressing his tongue deep inside.

Not as deep as I wanted, though.

And I wanted something much bigger.

I lifted my ass into the air, resisting my bonds, straining against his touch, wanting more, needing more, demanding more.

His mouth released me and he got up on all fours, looming over me.

I could see the outline of his shaft, hard and thick, slowly moving back and forth between his legs. A thin string of his own wetness dripped from the tip, shimmering silver in the candlelight.

I squirmed on the bed sheets, waiting impatiently, trying to hurry him up without begging.

He misinterpreted it.

“Oh… you trying to get away from me?” he growled, slowly moving up the bed.

He seemed to like it. Me trying to get away from him.

So I played along.

“You can’t have me,” I whispered.

He let one finger glide up my thigh and part my lips, his touch slick and sweet over my clit.

I stifled the cry of agony and ecstasy that I wanted to let loose.

“I don’t think you have much say in that right now,” he whispered, his voice dark and dangerous.

“You can’t have me,” I said again, and angled my pelvis so that it was sideways – one hip jutting up in the air and the other pressing against the sheets.

“Oh yes I can,” he breathed hot into my ear, and placed one powerful hand against my waist.

I fought back all the harder, my arms and legs straining against the silk of the ties.

It was incredibly erotic.

“No, you can’t,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he answered, and pressed his upper body against mine.

I could feel him between my thighs now – the wet thickness gliding forward, trying to find its way inside me.

“No!” I whispered.

He stopped, still as stone.

There were a couple of seconds of silence.

“…um… just to be absolutely, 100% clear…” he said hesitantly.

I smiled at his concern. I really wanted to kiss him – but I spoke instead. “I remember the safe word. Seeing as it’s ‘Safe Word.’”