That is the last of the gentle acts.
His lips pressed against my palms are deceptive. I let him lift my hands into the air after each kiss, locking my wrists into something, something I don’t understand until it’s too late. I’m too excited. His cock bulges from his jeans, rubbing against the inside of my bare thigh; my pants have been removed in the fluid acts he’s committed without really moving much. He’s smooth and efficient at locking me up tightly. I try to reach for him as my fingers tingle, desperate for the touch and feel of what I imagine is smooth skin. But he doesn’t allow it.
My hands are pinned and my heart is pounding when I realize what has happened. He lifts something from the dark bedside table. It’s then I realize the entire wall next to the bed is glass and the cascading mountains are almost in the room with us, they are so close. I can taste the moonlight in the air, the still cold air. The thing in his hands flashes a bit of light as the moon grazes it slightly. My eyes widen when I see the scissors. I don’t know where we’re going suddenly; my hands are bound and the scissors seem sharp, like kitchen shears. The way they catch the light and shimmer is cold and frightening.
“Do you trust me?” he asks softly as he rests the cold metal of the clippers against my stomach. I nod again, but it’s a lie. The grin on his lips and the gray his eyes have become make me even more nervous. “You don’t have to lie,” he whispers as he cuts once, making me flinch and wait for the pain. He cuts again and again until my bra and heaving chest are bared to him and the cold air. He drags the blades down my skin, barely a whisper of touch. “Are you scared?”
I nod. Fuck it! I can’t deny the fear in my eyes or the near-tearful stare I am certain he sees.
The grin on his face should have been my warning, but I eat it up like it is the most delicious thing I have ever seen. I eat him up; everything about him is beautiful and enchanting in all the wrong ways yet striking all the right places.
He lowers the shears, clipping away the sides of my underwear and then the middle of my bra. The cloth falls away from my skin, leaving me lying on a mat of my removed clothing. He cuts away the sleeves and flicks the bra from my breast. Even I can’t deny the beauty of my body as the shadowy silver light hits one side, casting abstract contrasts on the other. He runs the closed metal scissors across my nipple, making what is standing at attention grow even more.
He bends his beautiful face, replacing the cold metal with the heat of his mouth. Again he kisses with too much moisture, leaving my nipple wet and aching for more attention. But he leaves that one, sucking the other in a way that makes it feel as though there is a string from my clit to my nipple, and when one gets touched the other tugs.
He runs a finger down my belly as his tongue circles my erect nipple. The other is freezing cold and begging for more attention, which he grants it when his finger makes its way to the destination I have been desperately, but silently, begging from him.
As he inserts a finger roughly, his mouth lands on the cold nipple, both earning a gasp from me. He doesn’t hesitate to see what I like—he immediately saws his finger in and out of my wet opening. I cry out from the shuddering bliss rocking me as he bites gently, no worse than the cuffs do on my wrists.
I can’t touch or move, really. He’s pinning me to the bed and abusing me in the best ways I can imagine. It all feels wrong and right, conflicting my opinion on an appropriate response. I don’t know if it’s the second finger he inserts, or the clenching of his teeth on my nipple as his tongue flicks rapidly, or the cuffs pinning my body at an unnatural angle, but I orgasm in the most violent way I ever have. A scream tears from my lips as I arch my back and tremble, clamping down on his fingers, which don’t slow in any way. I twitch and ache, but he doesn’t relent.
“Please! Please!” I beg for him to stop but my lips betray my body, they won’t utter the word stop, and so he continues his assault. I don’t imagine the word stop would end the pulsating in my quivering pussy. I don’t imagine my begging does anything but feed his frenzy.
His pants rustle. I assume one thing and yet receive another. He grabs his cock, rubbing it between my pussy lips and yet never entering me. Again I beg, but not the way I thought I might in a situation such as this one. “FUCK ME!”
But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers from me, rubbing his cock between my lips with several aggressive thrusts before orgasming all over my stomach. He twitches and sighs, looking confused for a moment. He smiles and nods. “I got a bit excited.”
I’m heaving breaths in desperation and lost in the glistening fluid all over my bared belly. He climbs off me, making my hip ache immediately at the awkward angle.