Quickly releasing her bound calves, he raised her to her feet. “Do you mind sitting?” he asked, deliberately polite, reminding himself that if any woman mattered, she did. So don’t go over the fucking line.
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Nicole thought, but Rafe was smiling and she wasn’t really afraid of him despite the rumors. “I’d like that,” she said.
He laughed softly. “First date?”
“Not like any of mine.” She grinned. “If you’ve noticed, I’m being very careful not to move.”
“Because of these?” He touched the clit knot and pussy ropes, watched with pleasure as she drenched his fingers on cue.
“Please, Rafe.” Her breath caught in her throat. “I’m asking nicely.”
“It’ll be better if you wait.” He exerted a delicate pressure. “Understand?”
“No.” Her voice was just a wisp of sound, the orgasmic momentum building.
He saw it too and, turning her around, quickly released the tie at her wrists, shifting the dynamic. Taking her hand, he drew her to one of two green, cut velvet upholstered chairs in a window enclosure. “Sit, relax. We’ll talk about it.”
After helping her into the deep, cushioned chair, he knelt in front of her, smiled. “Are you warm enough? I could turn the heat up if you like.” Without waiting for an answer, he lifted her feet up on the chair seat, eased her legs open, and effectively redirected her attention. Seconds later, her wrists were loosely bound to the sides of her ankles, and a few quick loops of rope over her thighs held her legs open.
He looked up. “Comfortable?”
Her smile was half dreamy, the ropes over her sex tighter with her thighs spread wide. “This your idea of conversation?”
He shrugged, his motivations beyond the boundaries of polite conversation. “Does anything hurt? Look at me, tiger.” She was beginning to drift away with the pussy ropes doing their work. “Does anything hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Hey.” He cupped his ear.
“No,” she said, like she was listening to a faraway song, her gaze blank.
“Sure?” He touched her slippery pink flesh, open like a rose, heard her soft moan. “Answer me.”
There was something unsettling in his voice that gained her attention.
“I asked you if you’re sure nothing hurts?”
She didn’t notice the small wolf-curl to his lip, although it might have been too late even if she had noticed. “Yes, I’m sure. But I want to come. Please, Rafe.”
He almost relented when she uttered his name in such a soft, pleading tone. That he even considered it was testament to her unaccountable appeal. But old habits were, in his case, dearly bought and deeply entrenched. “Soon, pussycat. I promise.” He rose to his feet, took note of the sudden alarm in her eyes and slid a fingertip along one of her arched brows. “Relax. I’m not leaving you. I’m just going in the dressing room. I’ll be right back.”
When he walked back in, her smile lit up the room.
“You said you had one.” He held up her purple travel vibrator. “Should we give it a try?” He switched it on.
Her sex rippled violently at the familiar buzzing sound; she uttered a low moan of expectation that turned into a whispered purr. “You’re such a sweetheart.”
He slid the vibrator over her clit, teased her slick pussy with a lazy sweep of the tip, pressed it in fractionally and held it in place for a slow ten count before withdrawing it. Ignoring her groan of frustration, he moved it upward, slipping the sleek buzzing device over her stomach, higher still, to the knot over her ribs. Carefully easing the vibrator under the knot, he glanced up to fury in her eyes. Smiled. “I’ve never been called a sweetheart before.”
“Now I know why,” she muttered. Although in truth, with the ropes shimmying over her breasts and clit and sex as the vibrator steadily pulsed, all her feel-good nerves were humming a happy tune. But Disney wasn’t enough. She wanted a graphic novel orgasm.
Rafe made a small adjustment to the rib knot. “Keep an open mind, pussycat,” he calmly said as if they were debating climate change and he was the reasonable one. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” He turned the vibrator up to full power.
Her wild scream bounced off the ceiling and walls as all the ropes vibrated and every erogenous zone in her body was set ablaze. Pleasure washed over her in wild, seething waves, building higher and higher, lighting up her senses like a meteor shower, burning through her nerve endings. Trembling on the brink, she twitched and rubbed against the ropes, reaching for her elusive climax, the breathless rapture so very close—almost, almost.