Jared undresses me, piece by piece, until I am standing naked in my living room, illuminated by the street lamps outside. He steps back, his eyes appraising.
“Close your eyes.”
I obey.
“Now, without opening your eyes, take my clothes off.”
I reach my hand out blindly and connect with his chest. I loosen his tie and slip it through his collar. I visualize the buttons on his shirt as I open them, one by one. I pull his shirt from his waistband and strip it off his shoulders, then pull his T-shirt up and over his torso.
“Good girl, Grace. Keep going. But I’ll warn you, when you take off my pants, don’t touch my cock.”
“Why not?” My hand slides down his hips and I’m tempted to cup his length right now, imagining its hardness jutting from his body.
“Because this is about control and I’m making the rules. You can’t touch me or yourself until I say so.”
“Or what?” My naughty, devious mind invents a million pleasurable punishments and I brush my hand toward his crotch, where I connect with his erection.
Jared sucks in a sharp breath. “Or there will be consequences. That’s one, Grace. You’ve lost one hand so far.”
He grasps the offending hand and holds it to the side of my body with enough pressure that I know he means business. “Don’t open your eyes or I’ll take your sight.”
So this is his game? I nod my assent and kneel. One-handed, I remove his shoes and socks, then feel my way up the back of his thigh, careful not to touch the front of his pants. I find his belt and undo it. With my one fumbling hand, I release the clasp above his zipper, but my wrist brushes the tip of his cock that presses the material out toward me.
I open my eyes and look up at him, afraid he’s caught me.
Of course he has, and there’s a dangerous mixture of pleasure and resolve on his face. He steps back from me.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Grace.” He stoops and picks up his tie from the floor, then wraps it around my eyes twice. When it’s tied tightly behind my head, he lets his hand trail down through my curls, brushing my breasts, making my nipples hard and taut.
“Is this part of your fantasies, Grace?”
My heart beats loudly in my ears and I whisper, “Yes.”
“Good.”
I sense his movement around me and I’m still kneeling, chin tilted up in anticipation.
Behind my back, he grasps my wrists, one and then the other, and pins them together. I feel his leather belt weave through them, around them, and the hitch as he buckles it in place.
It’s tight. It’s terrifying. It’s thrilling.
“And is this part of your fantasies? What I’m doing to you now?” Jared’s hands brush my shoulders, the side of my breasts, the curve of my hips and the globes of my ass.
“Yes.” I’m in uncharted territory, completely alive even as Jared removes my senses, one by one. Sight, then touch.
But the rest of my senses are heightened. I breathe deeply and I know these smells: red wine in the glass on the table next to me, rich with dark fruits. The smell of my apartment, and of Jared’s skin as I hear him move around me again, back in front of my face.
He’s standing. I’m kneeling, bound, and blindfolded. My pulse races in my neck as I realize how far into the deep end of this power exchange he’s thrown me.
Or I’ve leapt. I’ve never said no.
“Grace, there are a million things I want to do to you right now, but I want you to want them too,” Jared says. His voice caresses me and I feel his fingers in my hair, tightening through the strands. “How will I know you want them?”
“I’ll tell you.”
“And how about the things you won’t tell me? What about the fact that we’ve practically burned up our phones with dirty talk every night this week and you could barely admit you want this? You wanted to be tied.”
“It’s too…” I trail off. It’s too personal. Too taboo. This power exchange flies in the face of the fact that I am a woman in power, and yet I want to be able to give up power, too.
I’m struggling, unable to see his reaction, unsure how to explain that I can’t explain. That Seth made me feel disgusting for asking for this. That he refused to tie me or mark me or take me in any way other than a few basic positions.
“If you can’t tell me what you want, how can I trust you to tell me when to stop, Grace?” Jared’s voice is genuine, worried.
“I’ll tell you.”
“How will I know you mean it?”
“I’ll demand you give me one fucking minute, OK?” I nearly shout. I’m breathing hard from the anticipation, wanting to get past this hesitation so we can do this.