Page 74 of Offensive Plays
I gulp. Because his voice isn’t charming, boy next door Fergie. Oh hell no. His voice is menacing and dangerous. And sends a thrill coursing through my veins.
“Do you understand, my beautiful butterfly?”
I nod.
“Say you understand, baby. I want to hear that pretty voice.”
“I understand.”
He smiles, “Atta girl.”
Fuck. He sounds like a man that wrote the book on sex not read it.
“Now,” he starts to loop the red rope around my wrists until they form a perfect knot. He tugs on it to make sure it’s tight enough, before he takes the ends and lifts my arms over my head with one thrust. My breasts perk up in front of him and his eyes scan my body. He licks his lips in appreciation and I can feel the desire building up in between my thighs.
“Since you took your eyes off me while I was eating that delicious pussy. I’m going to be in control of your hands while I fuck you. Do you understand, Libby?”
“Y-yes,” I say on a breath.
“Good girl,” he drops the rope and my hands go back to my lap, still tied together.
“Now, Libby. If I tell you to do something again, and you disobey. Then I’m going to take that other pretty rope and tie it to your ankles. And you won’t be able to move your hands or your legs, baby.”
I gulp.
“I really don’t want to have to do that, though.”
He runs his thumb over my lip and slips it over my tongue. I don’t move. Not until he tells me. So I let him slide it in and out of my mouth over my tongue.
“Wow, you’re so good at this, butterfly. You can suck now.” I close my lips around his thumb as the rest of his fingers caress my jaw. “So good,” he says.
The city lights outside glisten behind him. The curtains are still wide open. He has only the light from the lamp next to the bed on. Enough to give anyone watching from a nearby building a show.
But, I don’t care.
I want him more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.
“Lay back, Libby.” I obey.
“Arms over your head.” I swing my bound hands over me, the end of the red rope dragging over my naked body as I do.
He walks to the other side of the bed and secures the end of the rope against the bedpost.
“Pull,” he orders. I pull and the rope tightens slightly against my wrists.
“You’ll tell me if it hurts, baby. If anything hurts.”
I nod.
“Words, Libby,” he reminds me.
“Yes.”
“What word will you use to get me to stop?”
I look around the room and my eyes stop at the scene below us, “Vegas.”
He smiles as he steps in between my legs. “Vegas, baby. Okay then.”