Gavin gives Casey a knowing smile and steps around the counter behind me. His arms slip around my waist, and he pulls me up straight from my hunched position. His face goes down and nuzzles at my neck for a moment, before looking back up to Casey.
“Now, Casey-love, I wouldn’t invite you into our bedroom, just as sure as you wouldn’t invite me into yours. But let me just say… my brand of filth compliments Savannah’s sweet very well. It’s a match made in heaven, I’m thinking.”
“Good one,” Casey says as she nods her head up and down.
Gabby and Alyssa sigh again.
Turning me in his arms, Gavin leans down, gives me a soft kiss, and then says, “Now, Sweet… stop telling the girls all of our sexy secrets or there will be no ropes for you tonight.”
He turns around to leave, and I’m left with three women staring at me with mouths agape.
“Did he say ropes?” Alyssa asks, astonished.
“That’s so hot,” Casey mutters.
“We’re so stopping at the store on the way home for some rope,” Alyssa says.
And we all bust out laughing.
Speaking of ropes, my legs are half asleep because of the soft, nylon rope stretched under the back of my knees and tied to the posts of the headboard behind me. Gavin had pulled them firmly before knotting them, causing my legs to spread wide and raise half my ass off the bed.
His face has been in between my legs for the last thirty minutes, and I’ve lost count of the major and minor orgasms I’ve had. He gently licks at me now, murmuring words against my wet flesh that I can’t understand, but I am beyond all reasoning or care of understanding.
“Enough,” I rasp out. I would push Gavin’s head away if my hands weren’t also tied to the headboard.
Lifting his head, Gavin’s eyes are dark and fevered as he looks at me. “You are so fucking sexy like this. I don’t think I’m ever letting you out of this contraption.”
“My legs have fallen asleep,” I complain without much vigor.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to concentrate your feelings elsewhere, right?” he asks, before lowering his mouth back on me again.
I’m bound so thoroughly, my hips can’t even reflexively jerk against the insane pleasure he’s giving me right now. My body is completely helpless… I can’t move an inch, which only makes me focus on the sensations he’s creating all the more. My awareness of what he is doing is so heightened that it makes the pleasure sharply exquisite.
He’s merciless. Absolutely focused and determined to make me come again, and I have to wonder what his ultimate agenda is. He’s showed me pleasure over and over again since we first came together, but he is relentless in his pursuit to drive me mad with need for him.
I sob, I strain against the ropes, I tell him to stop, and I beg him. He keeps on and on, murmuring words against me in between licking and sucking, and my brain becomes overloaded with sensation.
When I finally come again… what was that—four or five times—I momentarily black out by the conquering force of convulsions ripping through me.
When I come to, Gavin is kneeling by my knees, holding a pocketknife in his hands. He cuts one leg and then another free, and I groan as the blood rushes back through my sore limbs.
Lying down beside me, fully dressed still, Gavin starts rubbing my legs to help increase the circulation. I grit my teeth through the pins and needle-like pain but silently think to myself… that little bit of discomfort was so worth it.
“That was all kinds of hot,” Gavin says as he massages my calf.
“That was amazing,” I murmur.
“Told you I was going to make you pass out,” he says with a confident smirk.
“You are amazing,” I tell him.
I’ve always known February in London is gray and cold, but it seems more so right now. I’m sure that has nothing to do with meteorology and everything to do with the fact that I don’t want to be here, and that I’m here without Savannah.
The last few weeks have been unbelievably good to me. Savannah read my manuscript and declared it a masterpiece. I read back through it two more times, making some revisions and tweaking a few plot points. During the day, I would work up in my office, and Savannah would work down in the kitchen, managing all of my author affairs. Sometimes she would take the day and drive throughout eastern North Carolina. She’d pack her camera bag, a sandwich, and her phone so I could text her occasionally. She would come home at night, upload her photos to the computer, and we’d go through them together while eating dinner.
At night… and I mean every fucking night, and more often than not during the day too… I would be inside of her, stroking and pumping my way to an even deeper connection with her, poured forth in orgasms and sweet, whispered words. I couldn’t get enough of her… can’t get enough of her. I keep asking myself, when will it ever be enough? Something always screams back at me… never!