“As soon as you’re bound, I’m going to fuck you. Hard. And I’m going to do it for my pleasure, not for yours.”
She exhaled softly in a burst of surprise.
“I know you’ll think that’s selfish. But it’s just a fact. I’ve fantasized about this. It’s going to be very arousing for me. What are you thinking?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to say that. But . . . all right.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“After that, I’m going to make sure that you like the ropes, Harper. I’m going to make you come while you’re restrained, several times. But I just wanted to be fair, and tell you what will definitely happen first.”
Her lips parted. A pink flush had risen in her cheeks.
“I understand,” she said softly.
“Okay,” he said, standing. He quickly unfastened the twist on one bundle, and a short black length of the silk rope slithered free. “I’m going to bind your wrists temporarily while I do your legs. From this point on, you’re going to be mine.”
She licked her full lower lip in an anxious gesture.
“Put your hands like this.” He showed her what he wanted, demonstrating by putting his wrists together, palms inward and facing each other. She took the position quickly, informing him that while she might be nervous, she was excited, too. He quickly did a triple column tie, binding her wrists together. To increase her arousal—not to mention his own—while he restrained her, he placed her so that her upper arms plumped her pretty breasts, her lower arms lay on her belly, and her fingers were just inches away from her spread sex. After he’d finished with the temporary hand restraint, the anticipation in him had drawn tight, making even breathing difficult for a second. He touched one of her calves.
“Bend your knees. Spread your thighs.”
He pushed her knees toward her chest when she followed his instructions.
He began his task soberly, his cock growing heavier and achier with each pass of the rope. By the time he’d finished binding her legs, a sheen of sweat had broken out on his upper lip and abdomen. He always loved the process of roping a woman firmly and artistically, finding it an explicit slow build.
But there was nothing slow about tying Harper up, though. It was hot, spiking torture from the get-go.
6
make me
FEEL
twenty-six
Harper had feared the idea of a rope restraint, worried she’d find the experience degrading and scary. But of course Jacob challenged her fears with his low, seductive voice and patient description of what he’d do. Then the process began, and she found the anticipation almost unbearable.
When he’d told her he planned to fuck her hard once she was restrained, forbidden arousal had shot through her. She’d also noticed the towel he brought, and thought she knew what it signified. He planned to come on her again. It excited her beyond belief, the idea of being the helpless target of his lust, the prospect of watching him lose himself to pleasure.
Besides, it took only a minute of watching him methodically binding her legs to make her realize she was witnessing a sexual art. He maneuvered the rope with deft expertise, applying constant surface tension with his hands. His tightening of knots somehow never burned or chafed her skin. He bound her very firmly, but there was never discomfort. She experienced only a slow, delicious surrender as more and more of the black silk rope covered her skin.
Finally, he stood next to the bed and looked down at her, his expression tight and unreadable. But his eyes seemed to burn her as they completed a tour of her naked, bound body.
He’d looped rope from her ankles all the way up her lower leg, each pass also capturing her upper leg, so that her calves were held very snugly against the back of her thighs. Only her knees and feet were free of rope. He’d wound the rope around her forearms and wrists, as well. With the aid of his expert knot tying, her hands had been restrained to rope just above her knees. She was spread wide. Her dark red pubic hair and pale stomach stood in stark contrast to the black of the rope. Jacob could see more than her. Much more. As he stared between her thighs right now, he looked directly at her open, aroused sex.
She couldn’t help but see the beauty of his work. The black rope against the canvas of her pale skin struck her like some kind of Japanese sex art: clean, sleek . . . and oh, so utilitarian.
“Do you want to struggle, Harper?” he asked, his heavy-lidded gaze traveling the length of her body to her face.
The question took her by surprise. She felt strangely secure in the restraint. There was a surprising amount of rope on her. She found the weight of it somehow comforting. Maybe because it was clear there was no escape. Not that she wanted to escape, but . . .
“No,” she said. “Do you want me to?”
“No. It’s different for everyone. Some like to struggle. It arouses. I’m glad you don’t want to. This time. You’re ready to submit from the get-go, aren’t you?” he asked thickly.