I wanted to lean down and capture her lips with mine, feast on her, but I needed to give her this space, this distance in which to make her decision. I could feel her teetering on the edge, wanting to take the plunge, but I couldn’t push her over. If I did, I’d run the risk of her spluttering with indignation when she surfaced. No, this had to be her choice. She had to relinquish control to me.
“Do you trust me?” I asked her, unable to stop myself from leaning in for a nibble. Her neck felt so sweet, her light scent and smooth skin a rare delicacy.
Her breath caught in her throat, right where I licked and sucked. “Yes,” she breathed, her body still tense. But tension could be good. Tension could build and heighten the ultimate release.
“Then let me play, Anika. I’ll make it good for you.” I trailed kisses along the edge of the collar of the T-shirt she wore. I wanted it off. As I murmured into her skin, “No one has to know,” a shiver traveled up her body. She began a soft pant, her nipples hard and ready, pressing against the fabric of her shirt. She liked that idea. The intimate, private playground we could create together, here in the mountains.
“We’re snowed in,” I whispered, husky against her, my hands traveling up to cup her breasts. So soft, so responsive, I needed her naked now. But before I did that, I need her to say yes. “This will be our secret.”
“Yes.” She spoke it softly, a whisper of an exhale more than a declarative yes. I pulled away and looked into her eyes.
“Yes?” She needed to be sure.
“Yes.” This time she spoke with more authority, more sure of herself. She wanted this.
I didn’t need any more invitation. Standing up, I pulled her up with me and picked her up into my arms. She didn’t weigh that much and she felt so good pressed against me. We kissed our way into the master bedroom, leisurely. My blood pounded and boiled within me, tense urgency filling my veins. But I slowed myself down. We weren’t in a rush. We weren’t going anywhere and no one was going to interrupt us. There was every reason in the world to make this last.
Gently, I placed her down next to the bed. I took a few steps away. “Strip for me, Ana.” I’d seen her naked before, of course, but we’d been so frenzied, so frantic for each other. I wanted to watch her reveal herself to me, see her arousal deepen as she grew more vulnerable.
She brought her fingers to the hemline of her T-shirt, looking up at me and biting her plump lip. Then she pulled it up and over her head in one swift motion. Her breasts jiggled with the movement, soft and ripe, pillowed above her trim waist. Her nipples were a perfect dark pink, like lush strawberries atop her creamy mounds. I wanted to sink my teeth right into them.
“Boxers,” I demanded, already feeling the stiff press of my cock against my jeans. She got me hard just sitting next to her on the piano bench. Watching her stand there topless, nothing but my boxers covering her lower half wasn’t going to last long.
She tucked her fingers into the waistband and slowly slid them down her curves, stepping out of them with a natural grace. Even the curve of her spine as she bent down turned me on. Every movement, every shift made me harder. She drew herself to her full height, Venus rising from the ocean. Only, thankfully, her hair just grazed her shoulders and didn’t leave anything to the imagination.
“Lie down on the bed on your back,” I commanded. If she hesitated, I didn’t see. I was already reaching for my bag where I’d packed a few restraints. I’d never been a Boy Scout, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how to always be prepared.
When I returned to the bed, she was lying there as I’d told her. I pulled the silk band taut in my hand with a snap. She jumped at the noise, looking at the restraint nervously. With swift, sure movements, I caught her wrist and bound her to the bedpost, then did the same on the other side. She watched me as I worked, tense. I made sure she was held tight but not uncomfortable. I wanted her to be able to squirm, enough room to pull at her restraints, but not enough to break free. She needed to feel bound.
I worked more slowly with her legs, teasing her with the silk, wrapping it around her calf and slipping it down to her ankle. I knew the smooth fabric felt good against her skin, slipping and sliding. But then I tied her ankle to the post at the end of the bed. She twisted, still keeping her legs together, as if there was any chance at remaining demure, chaste.
I let her keep her thighs pressed together, watching her rapid breathing, her peaked nipples, her pulse pounding.
“I’m going to tie your other leg down.” I caressed it as I spoke, softly, gently. “I want you spread open wide for me. Do you understand?”
She looked at me, heavy-lidded, still slightly hesitant. But then she nodded her head yes. At that, I grabbed her remaining leg and pushed it to the side. I wrapped the silk around her ankle and stretched her wide open for me. She gasped as I did it, her wrists straining against the silk.
Once I’d fastened her tight, I stood to admire my handiwork. She looked like a painting, an incredibly erotic one. They couldn’t display this at the Louvre, though if they did, they’d probably double their daily visitor count. Her legs spread wide, I could see how her sex already glistened with desire. Her breasts stood out large and completely exposed and her stomach moved rapidly in and out with nervous, aroused pants. She was mine for the taking.
“I like seeing you like this, Ana.” She stilled in response, letting me enjoy the sight of her. “But I have a question for you. And you need to answer me honestly. Did you touch yourself last night after I left you?” She’d been slick with need, aroused and at the point of coming when I’d taken away my hand.
“No,” she whispered.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because you told me not to.”
“Good.” I hissed, tracing my finger along the inside of her leg, stroking her calf. “Was that hard to deny yourself?”
She nodded her head, yes it was. But that wasn’t good enough. “Answer me, Ana,” I said, stern.
“Yes, it was hard not to touch myself.”
Satisfied, I continued stroking her. Even though she was bound, she had a little freedom of movement.
“I can see that you’re slick now, Ana. You look so good. Are you wet for me?”
“Yes,” she exhaled, so obedient.
“This is how I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you.” I moved to her side so I could better reach her. She pulled against her wrist restraints, panting as my tongue trailed down her stomach. I knew she wanted to touch me. But not now. Now, I would make her suffer. Now, I would travel slowly, my tongue dipping a lazy circle around her belly button.
“Ash!” she cried out.
I chuckled, low and wicked, looking up into her eyes. “You like being tied down.” I told her instead of asked. I could tell. She more than liked it. She loved it.
I traced her curves, stroked her limbs, drawing her attention to her restraints. She’d never done this before and I knew she was shocked by it. It took such trust and desire to turn herself over to me, letting me tie her up.
But I could tell she’d thought about it. Those naughty, late night fantasies. But up until now, she’d been a good girl. She’d played it safe. And up until
now, she’d never nearly blacked out from orgasms.
I thanked the powers that be for the snowstorm, trapping us. I was glad I’d indulged my wicked mind, letting myself abduct her. Were it not for this, she might have flown back to New York City. Right now, she might have been back at work, 3,000 miles away from me, helping kids check out books. Instead of letting her inner nasty girl come out to play. I knew she wanted this.
She lay there completely naked, tied spread-eagle on the king-size bed, writhing and whimpering. She begged for release, but I knew it wasn’t from bondage. It was from the intensity of the building, cresting orgasm quivering up inside of her. But like a good girl, she needed me to free it. She was a natural sub, and together our wires charged each other, our arousal heightened by the other’s.
I whispered, licking her neck, sucking her there at her sensitive flesh. She tossed her head to the side, baring her skin, giving me full access with a moan.
“Ash,” she begged, shameless, her breasts arching up into two needy, pebbled points at her nipples.
“I knew you had this in you. From the second I met you, all buttoned up in that library, I knew.”
“You couldn’t have,” she protested. But it was true. Underneath that white Peter Pan collar, she might not even have known she had this within her prim and proper exterior. But I could tell. There were pheromones in play, that elusive pull you couldn’t even really articulate. Something intangible. You couldn’t always put together the why. One plus one didn’t always equal two when it came to attraction. If you’d asked me a month ago if my dream woman would be a sheltered children’s librarian who didn’t particularly like to party and had had only one sexual partner in her life, I might have laughed. I liked my sex hard and wild and filthy. From the description of her, she sounded like she’d be more likely to call the cops on me than surrender and submit.
But here she was. All alone. In a cabin shut off from the world in the storm draught-stricken California had been waiting for for years.