She drew a quick breath at the soft fluttery touch from a feather running along the inside of her calves. The feather brushed across her knee. Goosebumps rose on her flesh. Her skin felt electric as the feather travelled across her body, visiting her belly, teasing her breasts, trailing along her sides. When the sensations stopped briefly she wanted to ask what happened, until she felt the feather once more.
He was tracing the shell of her ear, and she gasped.
Warmth spread inside her body. She had no idea that being touched on her ear would be such a turn on. She had no notion either that she’d arch her back, seeking closeness, willing him to touch more, when he ran the feather down her arm, inside her elbow and across her wrist. “Your whole body is a playground,” he instructed. “For now, until you learn to thoroughly give up control, it will be my playground. Isn’t that right, Casey?”
She nodded and moaned her agreement in a voice she didn’t even recognize as her own.
“Then hike up your skirt for me,” he told her.
Instantly, she responded to his request. She reached for the hem, pulling it up. Her skirt was now bunched at her waist. He stopped, and hissed in his breath. His audible reaction to her body drove her arousal. They were a feedback loop of desire. She’d move; he’d admire. He’d say a dirty word; she’d heat up. They fed each other with this fevered kind of lust. She pictured him drinking her in, memorizing the way she looked half-undressed on her couch.
Then, she was alone again as she heard him rustling through the box. She knew what was in the box: three things. She was wearing one of them. The other one he had already used. That left only the one she feared. She tensed, waiting for soft to change to hard. For tenderness to turn to a sting.
She emitted a small cry at the first smack. He had flicked the crop once against the flesh of her outer thigh. He shifted to the other, flicking her there. She let out a tiny yelp. Reflexively, she closed her legs. She wasn’t sure if she liked the crop. She parted her lips to speak, but then his fingertip pressed softly against her mouth. “Shhh,” he said. “I can tell you don’t like it.”
In a second, he was trailing the crop down her chest, underneath her bra, and along her rib cage.
Then it was gone.
He must have lifted it in the air again, and she waited nervously for him to swat her. But instead, she felt something hard against the wet panel of her panties. He was using the riding crop against her clit, like a toy, turning something she hadn’t liked into something she enjoyed immensely now. He rubbed one end across her throbbing bundle of nerves, stroking her, sending the temperature inside of her through the roof. She sought more friction, more contact, lifting her hips closer. When he stopped, she heard a whooshing sound in the air, then a smack against the hardwood floors. He’d tossed it away.
Next was the weight of his body on hers, his soft voice in her ear, him whispering, “I never ever want to do something to you that you don’t like. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“You should only feel pleasure with me. You should never feel anything less than desire,” he said, and he was Nate now, the man she trusted inside and out.
The next thing she knew the blindfold was falling loose, dropping to her nose, giving her sight again. There he was, raised on his arms above her, and smelling like sex.
Tonight. God, she hoped he’d take her tonight. Reaching behind her head, he untied the blindfold all the way, then brought it to her wrists, wrapping it around them in a circle, and binding them together in a tight knot.
“I’m going to undress you now.”
He laced his hands around her back, unhooked her bra, and freed her breasts. Then he unsnapped her skirt, tugged it down her hips, to her knees, and over her ankles, laying it neatly on the couch.
His eyes roamed her body, drinking her in from head to toe.
“The panties must go,” he said, a clear command, now back into character.
She held up her bound wrists as if to say you’re going to need to be the one to take them off.
In one swift move, his hands were on her hips, practically tearing them off, like a hungry, greedy man eager for the prize.
He stood and stepped away from her. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to watch you spread your legs for me. Do it nice and slow. Like a tease. Make me so fucking hard, harder than I already am, from the way you open your legs.”
She breathed in deeply, letting the air spread all this electric fire to the far corners of her body. She was tingling everywhere, burning up across every square inch of skin. That burn narrowed between her legs, where it became an exquisite ache to be filled. Slowly, intending to torture him, she raised one knee, watching him as he dropped his hand to his crotch, stroking himself through his pants. She took her sweet time letting that knee fall to the side of the couch. He groaned, a rough and hungry sound. She lifted the other knee inch by inch, spreading for him.
Now it was his turn to strip and she never took her eyes away from him, not as he yanked off the tie, undid his buttons, stripped off his shirt, or as he skimmed down his pants.
There was no artful tease. No stage moves or strip show timing. He was a man in need. A man who was finally going to fuck her.
He climbed over her and straddled her waist, his knees gripping her, his rock-hard cock hitting the soft flesh of her belly, the blunt head nudging the silk fabric that held her hands in place. She wondered briefly where the condom was. He was down to his birthday suit, after all. She didn’t really see where he could be hiding it. And she didn’t intend to let him ride her bareback.