by Dawn Atkins
“You keep forgetting who’s in charge,” he murmured. He removed his mouth altogether, so that all she felt were his hands holding her and the cooling moisture he’d left.
“Please,” she cried out, hoarse with need. This was agony.
“Let go,” he commanded. “Give yourself to me.”
“I am. I will…please.”
Thankfully he didn’t wait for her to stop wiggling—she couldn’t have—before easing his tongue under the edge of the thin material of her panties, close to where she wanted him, but not…quite…there.
“Please, please, pleeease,” she moaned, sweat breaking out all over her body, which felt chafed with unmet desire. She yanked at the ties around her wrist, wanting her hands now. Wanting to grab his hair and push his mouth right there. Cool the burn. Put it out. Now.
“I can see you’re suffering,” he said in pretend sympathy. “I guess I’ll have to help you.” He slowly teased her panties downward and off her feet. Then he lifted her knees, opened her legs and finally, finally pressed his mouth where she was frantic for him.
His tongue was on her, strong, but soft, offering glorious relief. She groaned and panted and tried to lunge for him with her restrained hands, now almost raw with the effort of trying to touch, to control, to move. She was in his power, completely unable to guide his lips and mouth, tongue and teeth and hands.
Like it or not, she’d given herself over to him.
And that, she learned, wasn’t half-bad. The Love Thief’s tongue found her again and again, flicking the spot just so. Now his fingers joined the action, moving into her and out, while his mouth applied pressure above in a sweet agony of sensation. He wasn’t teasing her now, he was moving unerringly to her pleasure point.
“Oh…” She almost added Ross, but at the last second managed to be conscious enough to say instead, “Oh…good.”
“Mmm.” He nuzzled her in a way that told her he loved being there. She was never sure about men and this most intimate act. Was it a burden? Did they get bored? Dislike the sensation, the taste? Ross seemed at home.
Her hips lifted shamelessly up at his mouth. More, more, faster, her body was saying. He obliged, his tongue doing magic things—swirls and swipes and pushes that escalated the sensation to a throbbing clamor for release. She was moving frantically and somehow he managed to stay with her, keeping his mouth in position despite how she writhed and twisted and bounced.
She was terrified he would stop, pull away, leave her unsatisfied, but as she swelled closer to climax, she could feel that he wanted her to get there, too. His movements were as frantic as hers.
The feeling intensified, tighter, tighter, tighter, until it became that white-hot sting and ache, and then she shot free, rocketing over the cliff, surfing the rare space of it. She fought the urge to say Ross’s name, ending up with garbled syllables, aware all the time of his hands holding her in place, his mouth stilled, his finger quiet, absorbing her pleasure, her joy.
Then it was over. Slowly the jerks and quivers subsided. If only she could free her hands so she could thank him physically, touch him, give him release. She twisted her right hand and found the tie had loosened and she could get free.
She started to reach for Ross, then she remembered this was a fantasy—the Love Thief and his Prisoner of Love—so she decided to stay in character. Surreptitiously, she freed her other hand, but held on to the bars of the headboard, pretending she was still restrained.
“That was nice,” he said, kissing her stomach and slowly sliding up her body.
“Very nice,” she said, but the minute his lips reached hers, she heaved herself over onto him, pinned his legs with her knees and his upper body with her chest. She paused to shake off her dangling bra and yank the blindfold from her eyes. Then she pinned his wrists. “Now you’re my prisoner.”
He grinned and pretended to struggle while she used the neckties to bind him where she had been.
Ross tested the knots. “Not bad,” he said, adding hopefully, “I suppose you’ll have your way with me now?”
“Don’t sound so happy about it.” She bent forward and nipped his neck, letting her teeth dig in a little, sucking, wanting to mark him with a love bite.
“Please don’t stop.”
So of course she did. “I’m in charge here,” she said sternly, straddling his hips, rising on her knees.
He was so handsome lying there naked to the waist, his upstretched arms revealing taut, delineated muscles. Tied down though he was and under her power, he seemed completely in charge, willing her to touch him. She wanted to, but first, she had to tease him—on general principles.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes.” She attacked his belt and zipper and he lifted his hips so she could pull off his jeans and toss them away.
Her heart jumped at the sight of the swollen length of him, reaching up, eager for her touch. “Hmm, now what?” she said, putting a finger to her lip in pretend consternation.
“Touch me, for God’s sake,” he growled.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said. “Not quite yet.”
He groaned. “You’re going to torture me, aren’t you?” His eyes flared with heat and desperation.
“Oh, absolutely.” She thought of something one of the vixens in the firefighter video had done, and decided to try it. She took her breasts in her hands, pushed them together, then leaned forward and brushed her nipples over the tip of his penis. So delicious. Her nipples felt charged by the sensation of firm velvet on their sensitive tips. And Ross went nuts, lunging up for more. Much better than the video—this was real and raw, not staged.
She sat up.
“Lord, don’t stop,” he said.
“You liked that?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Keep it up.”
“Nope.” She was amazed at herself. Here she was, inviting Ross to look at her bare breasts, welcoming his hungry stare.
He groaned, his face showing agonized yearning. “Come on. I didn’t torture you this long.”
“But you kidnapped me. And I wasn’t all that happy about the way you drove, either.” This was fun. The blindfold lying on the bed caught her eye—it was a black silk handkerchief. She picked it up and rubbed it sensuously against her cheek, then slowly slid it over her breasts, tickling herself, then lower, between her legs and back and forth.
Ross groaned as if the sight caused him pain.
She dragged the cloth over his chest, then his thighs. She let it just brush his erection before whipping it away.
“You’re killing me,” he moaned.
“That’s the general idea.” She leaned forward, teasing his chest with her nipples, then grazing his mouth with her lips. He lunged up at her, but she pulled away.
“So, are you suffering?” she asked.
“Yeah. Now give me your mouth.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” she said, and took his penis in one hand and lowered her mouth to its soft, firm surface, cupping his testicles in her other hand.
A shudder went through him and the rest of his body went limp. “Thank God,” he said.
She let her tongue and lips explore this very special part of him. She liked the way Ross tasted and the way the velvety skin shifted and slid under her lips. Usually oral sex was awkward for her. She felt clumsy and inept and it made her jaws ache. But not this time.
She just imagined how this might feel to Ross and moved the way she guessed would be good. She glanced up and saw him looking at her with worshipful need. She was doing great.
Soon he was rocking rhythmically into her mouth and she found she could relax her throat and take all of him. He groaned, whispered something, and she quickened her pace, surprising herself with the ease of it all.
And then he went rigid and jerked in her mouth. She felt no urge to pull away, as she had the few times she’d performed this act in the past, and she found her mouth filled with his liquid, which was warm and pleasantly salty.
Gradually he stopp
ed moving. “That was great. Thanks.” He yanked his hands out of the ties and pulled her up into his arms.
She laughed, and then he kissed her and it was easy and comfortable…and friendly…and…
Wrong. Kara broke off the kiss and climbed off the bed. The game was over.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure. I’m fine.” She ducked his gaze, crossing her arms over her breasts. Here they were, Ross and Kara, trapped in the aftermath of their adventure. She had to say something about what they’d done. “That was…” What could possibly describe that experiment in trust and control and sensation?
“Yeah,” he said, “it was.”
“Exactly,” she said, glad he understood. “I’d better get dressed.”
She grabbed her dress and undies from the floor, and rushed into the tiny bathroom. By the time she’d gotten her clothes on, Ross had done the same and was waiting for her at the open door, dressed and holding his backpack.
She stepped under his arm and into the cool spring evening. The green smell of water combined pleasantly with the eucalyptus from the tall trees everywhere, and she could hear the carousel from the kiddieland area. “Encanto Park. I thought so.”
“Yeah. Bill’s cousin works here. He said I could use the place.”
“Nice of him.”
Ross looked at her, a long once-over filled with affection. “Feel like some cotton candy? A ride on the merry-go-round?”
“That doesn’t sound like kidnapper talk.”
“I could tie you to a horse,” he said, pulling the end of one of the ties from his backpack.
She shivered with the memory of being bound and in his power. “What, and shock the children? We could scar them for life.”
He sighed. “It’s just such a nice night. How about paddleboats?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. It had to be over, and they both knew it.
Ross looked away and she watched the breeze lift his hair from his forehead. The lights of the park gave his silhouette a lovely halo.
He turned back to her, a big grin on his face. He’d decided something. “If that’s the way it’s gonna be—” he poked her shoulder with one finger “—tag! You’re it.”
“What?”
“Next Saturday. You come up with something.”
“You mean, do this again?”
“Something like it. Surprise me.”
“I don’t know if we should.”
“I don’t care if we should. You are an incredible partner and I want more.” Then he caught himself. “This is practice, remember? And you know what they say about practice.”
“It makes perfect?” she asked hopefully.
“Exactly. We’ll keep it up until you’re perfect. Though that—” he nodded at the cabin “—was damn close.”
Practice makes perfect. The flimsiest of excuses, but she was learning and her comfort level with sex grew with each encounter. She couldn’t argue with that. Even if she should.
7
KARA AWOKE Sunday morning to the sound of someone frantically ringing her doorbell. For a fleeting second, she hoped it was Ross, but she pushed away that dangerous thought and dragged herself to her feet. She was still uneasy with the plan she and Ross had to see each other next Saturday and she had no idea what fantasy experience she could create that would top Love Thief.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong. “Hang on. I’m coming,” she called, throwing on her robe. The silk slithered over her skin and made her shiver. These days, every sensation seemed more vivid.
Her caller gave up on the doorbell and started pounding. Had to be Tina. No one else was so impatient. After a confirming glance through the peephole, she opened the door and Tina barged in holding a bakery sack and two pint cartons of milk.
Eight-thirty was way too early for her night owl friend. Something was up.
“I have to talk.” Tina dumped her offerings unceremoniously on the kitchen table, then sank into a chair with an exhausted sigh. “I brought breakfast.” She fished a squished custard-filled doughnut out of the sack and took a huge bite.
“What happened?” Kara had last seen Tina flirting for Tom’s benefit Friday night.
“A mess. I drank too much—I was nervous—and Tom ended up driving me home and putting me to bed.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Keep listening. I thought he’d left, so I took off some clothes, but he comes back with aspirin and sees me half-naked and nearly runs from the room. Like I had leprosy.”
“He was just being a gentleman.”
“Then the next morning—yesterday—he shows up with bagels and what he calls his special hangover cure.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Not sweet. An act of pity. He thinks I have an alcohol problem. If I were an alcoholic I’d have known better than to drink a froufrou drink. You know I overdo when I get nervous.”
That was true. Tina had problems, but alcohol wasn’t one of them.
“So, I tell him, thanks,” Tina continued, “but I can handle my own hangover. But he just puts the bagels in the toaster oven and mixes up this concoction like I haven’t said a word. And I’m so hung I can’t even argue with him. And damned if the drink didn’t work. He says it’s the Tabasco.”
“That all sounds good.”
“Hold on. Then after we eat, he opens his backpack and pulls out a textbook and some paper and starts reading and taking notes.”
“He what?”
“He’s studying. At my kitchen table. Can you believe it? The only thing I want to do with a man at my kitchen table is eat and/or screw.”
Tina moved onto the second doughnut and guzzled one of the milks. She wiped her mouth. “So, I’m staring at him, you know, like he dropped in from another planet, and he finally looks up and says, ‘Take a shower, but keep the water cool. Heat intensifies the effects of the alcohol.’”
“So what did you do?”
“I took a cool shower. And when I come out in my sexiest silk robe, he looks up from the sofa in the living room where he’s reading and says, ‘You need some sleep,’ and pats the spot beside him. So I sit down and he pulls me down so my head is in his lap—sideways, nothing funny—and goes back to studying.”
“And then what did you do?”
“I slept. What else? I was tired.”
“Wow.”
“I know. TWFW. Too Weird For Words. I can’t believe I did exactly what he told me to do.”
“What happened when you woke up?”
“He wasn’t on the couch, so I thought maybe I’d just had a bad dream, but then I smelled something cooking and there he was in the kitchen making grilled cheese sandwiches. He said I needed protein and calcium to settle my stomach.”
“What did you do?”
“I ate the sandwich—it was good, too…buttery and light brown, the way I like it—and afterward he said he had to go fix his friend’s car.” Tina paused, looking worried.
“And then he left?” Kara prompted.
“Yeah. Except first he said he had next Saturday off and would I like to go sailing.”
“And you said yes, right? So you got what you wanted—Tom on a date. Your trick worked after all.”
“I don’t like it. He feels sorry for me. I think he thinks he’s saving me from men or melon liqueur or myself, and it makes me feel…weak, you know?”
“You’ve dated too many guys who only look out for themselves and their penises. Tom’s being nice.”
“Well, I’m no sad case. I’m going to tell him to forget it. That I’m busy. That I have to do Jell-O shooters at a biker bar or wash my hair or study for my driver’s exam, I don’t know.”
Kara examined her friend’s face. Tina was obsessive about independence, Kara knew, because of her clinging mother and moody father. She’d have to handle this delicately so Tina could get what she really wanted.
“Give the guy a break,” she said. “He obviously had to work up the nerve to even talk to you. If
you turn him down you’ll crush his spirit.”
“You think so?”
“Humor him. Go on his sailboat with him. Have pity on the poor guy.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. You feel sorry for him.”
“I could do that. Sure. He was kinda pitiful standing there staring at my breasts like he’d never seen a pair before.” Tina munched another doughnut, letting yellow cream slip out of the corner of her mouth—a matter she rectified with a quick swipe of her tongue. “Eew, these are nasty,” she said, shoving the last bite into her mouth. “Did you like yours?” She looked at the empty sack. “Uh-oh. Did I eat all three?”
“The milk, too.”
“Sorry. Want me to get you some more?”
“That’s okay. I’m not really hungry.”
Tina studied her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. At least I hope nothing. I had another date with Ross.”
“No. Another fantasy?”
She nodded.
“Oh. Wow. Tell me everything.”
“It was kind of bizarre. He pretended to, um, kidnap me.”
“Ooh. Wow. Go on.”
“He took me to this cottage at Encanto Park and—” The rapt expression on Tina’s face made her stop. “I can’t tell you everything. It’s too personal.”
“Personal? This is educational, remember? A learning experience. Dish, girl!”
“It was intense. Let’s leave it at that.” She kept seeing the look of crazed hunger on Ross’s face when she’d teased him with her breasts. She’d felt like some exotic sex goddess—Kara, Mistress of Temptation, not Kara of the Granny Panties. And giving himself over to him that way had been powerful and very sexy. Feelings entirely too intimate to share with Tina.
“Well, I envy you,” Tina said. “You’re getting handcuffed to beds and tickled with feathers, while I’ve got Tom asking me to quiz him for his engineering exam. Sheesh.” But her eyes were bright with a new light. Tom might be just what Tina needed.
“So, what’s the next fantasy?” Tina asked. “Slave and mistress? Headmaster and bad pupil?”