He scooped me up and laid me on my back in the center of the bed, positioning me so my hands were tied inches from the wood slat headboard. The loop he’d created at my wrists tightened when he secured me to the bed frame with my arms stretched just a bit in the process. I wanted to writhe in the cords binding me until my body burned.
He anchored my left foot and then my right to the corners of the bed until I lay spread eagle and immobile. Dare stood on the floor at the end of the new bed and fucked me with his eyes.
He squeezed his cock, and his pupils dilated. “You okay?”
“Better than. Will you touch me?” My body ached for his talented touch.
“Oh yes. If it’s ever too much—tell me.” He turned serious. “Promise.”
“Promise.” But I might’ve promised my firstborn for his touch.
He climbed onto the bed and straddled me. He massaged my breasts and the rope moved in time with him. I arched and the ropes tightened.
“So good,” I mumbled.
He plundered my mouth as he pinched my nipples. Pleasure zinged through my spine. I wanted him to touch my pussy and moved to direct him, but my hands caught tight.
“I need you everywhere.”
He chuckled. “I’ll get there, Red. Be patient.”
His careful strokes and nips were the high notes of his melody, and the sensual caress of his web of restraint was the bass.
“Please. Let me suck you. Just a bit.” I spoke between bursts of pleasure.
He frowned at me. “You want to suck me with no control.”
I trusted him. “Yes.” I moaned the word.
Heat flashed between us when he guided his cock into my mouth. Thick and long, I swallowed him down, reveling in the salty taste of him. He thrust slowly into me, and I invited him deeper.
“Red, holy fuck.” He moved faster, balls tightening and breath rapid. He gasped and jerked out of my mouth.
“No,” I wailed, needing the contact, the fullness of him inside me.
His finger plunged through my wet folds. “Gotta be inside you.”
“Finally.” I strained up and into him. “Now, now,” I chanted.
He released my hands and legs in seconds.
“Flip over, ass up.” He rolled on a condom.
I scrambled to comply, enjoying the way the ropes writhed with every twist. He did something at my ankles before he secured my hands to the bed.
His groin cupped my ass as he plunged deep inside me, I strained to meet him and the furious pace he set, but the ropes allowed me hardly any movement.
“More.” I bounced up to meet him, driven insane by the ropes, his cock and best of all his sweaty torso rubbing against mine. He bit my neck and I screamed. “Make me come.”
Mindless, I searched for the release. Dare snarled and dug his fingers into my ass, tilting my hips in the perfect way.
I squeezed my pussy tight on his cock, tearing a groan from him as he drove into me. My world exploded in color and pleasure as the climax ricocheted through me, heightened by each strand of Dare’s web.
He bellowed his own release and leaned onto my back. He tugged a rope and my hands dropped.
He moved back and released my joined ankles. Once free, I rolled over and clasped him tightly, holding him to me as sensation and emotion rocked through me.
My dream hadn’t done the actual experience justice. Could I wear these ropes all the damn time?
After a few minutes, he leaned back with a lopsided grin on his face and unwound me.
“You’re amazing.” I shut my eyes, not even trying to hide the goofy smile playing across my lips.
“You almost did me in with your mouth, such a close thing.” He caressed my cheek. “No one’s ever trusted me so much.”
He’d broken me, I’d tasted his carnal wickedness, and I’d never be satisfied with less.
We lay cuddling, and I was half asleep when my stomach gurgled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten for hours.
Dare laughed. “Guess you worked up an appetite.”
“Guess so.”
I slipped on a Marked Man T-shirt and cooked a quick batch of stir-fry. He joined me in the kitchen. “Why do you always cook?”
“Girl’s gotta eat,” I sassed him.
“Yeah, but you don’t zap something, you cook real food.”
A melancholy colored my happiness. “Before my mom died, she always cooked and baked. She said the kitchen was the soul of the home, and food the language of love.” I stirred the veggies and shrugged. “So I cook.”
Dare rested a hand on my shoulder. “Sounds like a wise woman.”
Thankfully he didn’t ask me all the normal questions I hated answering. When did she die? How did she die? And then the questions about the rest of my family would start.