by Lilli Feisty
“Ash, no—” She shook her head, only making her hair more messy.
But he ignored her, circling the bed and snapping away. Despite her awkwardness, she couldn’t help but respond to her own exhibitionistic display of being restrained and photographed. Even through her embarrassment, she felt her sex throbbing harder than before, felt her nipples harden under the camera’s clicking shutter.
She didn’t know how long he photographed her, but eventually he put the camera down and began unbuttoning his pants. Eyes wide, she watched as he kicked off the remainder of his clothes and climbed onto the bed, straddling her chest. Her mouth watered; his cock was close, so close. She wanted to taste him, taste his flesh.
Reaching behind her, she felt him slide a pillow under her head. “You still okay, baby?”
She nodded. She was more than okay; she was high, numb to everything except him, what he was doing to her.
“That’s my girl. My beautiful girl.” He placed his cock between her breasts. It was then she noticed he held a bottle in his hands, and he poured a generous amount of lubrication into his palm. “It’s strawberry flavored,” he said with a grin.
“My favorite.”
He took his cock in his hands and stroked himself, all the while watching her. Slowly, his long fingers gripping his cock, he stroked from the base to the tip, again and again until she saw the muscles in his lean body tighten.
“I want to feel you, Ash.” She pulled at the ropes, but they were secure, on the edge of being too tight; he knew exactly how far to go.
He rubbed his slick erection between her breasts, his flesh sliding smoothly against her skin. The strawberry scent reached her nostrils, mixing with the smell of sex and Ash. She tried to push her thighs together, but her legs were bound wide apart, leaving her aching center open and untouched. Torture.
She watched as he took both her breasts in his hands and began to massage her sensitive flesh.
“Oh, Ash…” She felt her arm muscles tensing in their stretched position, and her pussy was getting so damp she could feel her own secretions through her panties.
“Beautiful breasts, Joy; you have such beautiful breasts.” He rubbed his cock between the valley of her chest. Side to side, using her skin to pleasure himself. And then he brought the engorged head of his erection to press against her nipples, to rub himself against the sensitive buds, hard and beaded, until she threw her head back, moaning aloud.
“Yes, Ash. Do it. Fuck me there.” She bowed under him as desire pooled deep inside her. The feel of his cock, his balls on her chest, made lust rush through her in a hot, raging river.
“Joy, I love tying you, seeing you helpless for me.” He took her breasts in his hands and pressed the mounds around his cock. “And you love it, too, don’t you, baby?”
“Yes,” she breathed as he began moving back and forth, sliding up toward her face and down, just until the tip of him hit the bottom edge of her breasts, and then he moved forward again. Back and forth, thrusting and not gentle. She didn’t want gentle.
As he fucked her breasts, his own breathing went harsh and heavy, and his obvious arousal only turned her on more.
“Do you like being bound, Joy? Do you like belonging to me like this?”
More, she thought. I want more than just this. “Yes, Ash. It feels so good… You feel so good.”
He continued to fuck her, his pre-come dripping out of his cock to mix with the strawberry lube. He pressed her breasts more tightly together, making a firm grip for his rock-hard cock. “I can’t wait to feel myself inside you, Joy. I can barely wait to fuck you.”
“Oh my God, Ash…” Her hips bucked up, searching for something, anything. All she knew was that she was aching between her legs, aching for release. For Ash.
He inched up until his cock was right there, a breath from her mouth. “Do you want to suck my cock?”
“Yes.”
He gently touched the head of his erection to her lips, and her tongue darted out. She tasted strawberry and his skin mixed with his essence. A shudder of longing vibrated through her as she tried to get more of him; she wanted him to fill her, fill her mouth, fill her everywhere.
But he backed up, climbing down her body until he knelt between her legs, spread wide around him.
“You better not even be thinking of taking a picture right now, Ash.”
He grinned. “As much as I’d like to, even I wouldn’t push you that far. Yet. Nice panties. I especially like how damp they are—you’re so turned on I can see it.”
She felt her face burn; it was true. She knew she was wet for him, and in this position she couldn’t hide it. She couldn’t hide anything. And even as it frightened her, a sense of freedom mixed into that emotion, making her mind feel a bit euphoric and totally unself-conscious. When the option of hiding was taken away, it was as if she had nothing left to do but embrace being exposed.
He went to his dresser and came back with something, but she couldn’t see what it was. He held up a pair of small scissors. “I always keep these around, just in case I need to release someone in a hurry.” He ran a fingertip along the elastic of her panties, edging around her inner thigh, so close to her pussy. He slid his hand under the lace and immediately plunged two fingers into her.
She screamed out as total pleasure rushed through her. Her body bucked against the rope that held her, constrained her.
“Oh, God… Ash…”
“That’s my girl. Let go. Tell me what you want.”
She looked down at him, saw the long sinewy body before her, every muscle visible and taut. His green eyes were so dark, bottomless, like the sea at night.
She took a deep breath. “I want you to do whatever you want to me. Use me.” Did she really just say that? Why did she feel this way around him?
“Oh, fuck, baby.” With the fabric of her panties moved aside, he placed his thumb on her clit and pushed his fingers inside her again. He brought her to the edge, and she was moaning, crying out for him.
“Three fingers, Joy. I’m fucking you with three fingers, and I don’t want you to come, not yet.”
“I’m so close, Ash… my God, so fucking close…”
Just when she thought she would climax, he removed his hand and she lay there, gasping, panting. Watching, she saw him take the scissors, and then she felt the cold metal on her damp pussy. She heard a few snips and then realized he’d cut her underwear off, right at the crotch so the fabric still bunched around her hips.
“Much better. Now I can see you.”
Kneeling between her thighs, he took her clit in his mouth, tugged the throbbing flesh with his teeth. She felt his hand sliding through her slick pussy, past her vaginal entrance and then pressing at her anus. She stilled.
“You said use you, right, Joy?”
“Yes,” she managed.
He held up a small piece of marble, shaped like a cone with a small base. His smile was wicked. “I’m an artist; I’m obviously into sex. It was only natural that I’d have a few erotic pieces around.”
“You made that?”
“Yup.”
“What is it?”
“It’s for your ass. I’m going to put this in your ass, and then I’m going to fuck you.”
Use me. She nodded as her bones melted with desire.
He coated his hands and the marble with lube, and then she felt the sculpture skimming her pussy. Leaning down, he licked her clit again, working her into a frenzy as he pushed the marble inside her, into her ass.
“Oh my God,” she cried, straining against the ropes. The marble was solid, filling her, sending a rush of pleasure over her body such as she’d never experienced.
Ash looked up. “How are you doing, babe?”
“Fuck…” She couldn’t speak, could barely see.
“Hold on for me, Joy. Wait for me.” He pushed the marble dildo even deeper, and she screamed as the foreign sensation sent waves of awareness through her.
She’d wanted him to fill her
. She’d never thought it would be like this, be this good.
After he’d rolled a condom onto his erection, he climbed on top of her and she met his gaze. “You are such a responsive woman, Joy.” He kissed her neck as she lay there for him, her chest heaving as she let him use her.
Then she felt his cock at her pussy; he was guiding himself inside her, and as he buried his erection in one hard, deep thrust, she screamed.
“You like this, Joy?”
“Yeah… ,” she admitted with a gasp as he withdrew and drove into her again. She felt him everywhere; she could practically feel the marble and his cock touching inside her body. Bliss shot through her as she lost her mind, finally submitted fully to him. She realized that, up until that moment, she’d been holding back, but now, with him filling her everywhere—there was no holding back. The beauty of being restrained was giving up control, giving up all self-consciousness, giving up everything.
Giving Ash everything.
He bent down to take a nipple into his mouth and bit. The pain was exquisite, making every muscle in her body clench as the orgasm thundered through her. She screamed, screamed his name and felt her vagina clenching around him in intense spasms. Seconds later she felt him climax, felt his cock ejaculating into the condom as his entire body tensed and he groaned.
“Joy,” he ground out. “My beautiful Joy.”
He collapsed on top of her, nestling his head against her neck. They lay like that for a while, waiting as their bodies calmed down, until the euphoria started to wane.
And still Joy thought she heard him whisper once more against her skin, his breath soft and hot, “My beautiful Joy.”
And what scared her was that she nearly believed him.
Chapter Fourteen
Ash?”
“Mmm?” They were lying on their sides, and he pulled her closer to his body, tucking her sweet ass against his hips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed, this calm.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been satisfied with stillness.
“Do you mind telling me something?” she asked.
“Shoot.”
“What happened? I mean your scars… How’d you get them? I know it was a helicopter, but do you mind telling me the details?”
He paused. Normally he didn’t discuss what happened, but something about Joy made him feel safe, and he found himself wanting to tell her things he rarely talked about.
He trailed a fingertip up her naked arm, her soft, silky skin soothing him somehow. “I was a SEAL, and we were in Afghanistan. I was in the chopper, monitoring the crew. They were militants, came out of nowhere and shot us down.”
He felt her sharp intake of breath. “And you were inside the helicopter.”
“I jumped, but we were so low to the ground that I was hit by debris when the chopper crashed and exploded.”
“Your shoulder was hit.”
“It was hit the hardest, yeah.”
“How did you escape? Did someone come for you?”
“Eventually.” He cleared his throat. Joy didn’t need to know about how he’d let his team down by not jumping soon enough, by missing the attack in the first place. He should have picked up the movement with his equipment.
Nope, those were his own special secrets, and he intended to keep it that way.
“It must have been awful. Did anyone…”
“Die?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“The pilot. Luckily the ground crew was picked up. Finally.”
“And your arm?”
“Nearly lost it.” Yeah, a prison cell in enemy territory wasn’t exactly the most sanitary of places to be with major injuries. He still woke up dripping in sweat from nightmares of that place. The dirt, the smell, the screaming sounds of inmates being tortured…
“That’s why your photographs are so moving.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned over and faced him, her head resting on the pillow. In the moonlight, her hazel eyes sparkled with amber flecks, and he saw a few freckles scattered across her nose. There was something so innocent about her, so open. He trusted her. He hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time.
She brushed some hair away from his forehead. He’d been meaning to get it cut but never seemed to get around to it.
“Your photographs are so deep, moving. I think you channel your pain into them, turn your experiences into something different, something beautiful. Art.”
That was the reason he’d gone back to photography and art when he’d quit his last job. He’d needed that escape, and it was easier to look at the world through a camera lens, easier to lose himself in the nontoxic places in his mind. Photographs and sex were the easiest escapes.
“I want to show your sculpture, Ash. In the gallery.”
“No, it’s not any good. I was just messing around.”
“People love it!” She took his hand and kissed his palm. “I love it.”
“You’re the only one who’s seen it, Joy.”
Her gaze darted around his face. “Right. Well, I’m sure they would, if, you know, they did ever see it.”
“I don’t know, Joy. I’m already regretting agreeing to do the photography exhibit.”
“What? Why?” She looked truly concerned, and he kissed her furrowed brow. “Is it me?” she whispered.
“No!” He pulled her tightly to his body. “I’m just busy, is all.”
“Busy with what? Does it have to do with all those computers I saw on your dining room table?”
Despite Joy’s seeming a bit flaky at times, she was certainly observant. “Yes,” he said. “I’m doing some private security work now.”
“And that’s why you want to give up photography? To work in security?”
Security. He craved it, he worked in it, it was who he was. “In a way. I want security for my family, for my sister and my mother. I never want them to worry… As she gets older, Violet’s needs will increase. I want to make sure I’m prepared.”
“So you’re giving up your art for your family?”
“That, and I’m burned out.” He traced her bottom lip with his fingertip. “I was burned out.”
“If we did a show for you, your sculpture would bring in quite a bit.”
He chuckled. “You’re always thinking, aren’t you, little one? You never give up.”
“I just hate to see something so beautiful hidden away.”
“I do, too.” He continued to rub her lip. “Fine, you can have the sculpture pieces. I’ll get them from the museum before the show.”
She seemed more concerned than happy. “You will?” she asked, and he swore she sounded tense. Did she get nervous before an exhibit, too?
“It’ll be fine,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. Then he rolled her onto her back and settled between her legs. “I think you could talk me into pretty much anything, Joy.”
She wiggled beneath him, and he felt her pussy, warm and wet against his cock. “Anything?”
“What do you have in mind?” She was already ready for him; he felt her slickness against his erection.
Smiling naughtily, she reached for his good shoulder and pulled him lower. “Get a condom,” she said against his mouth, “and I’ll show you exactly what I have in mind.”
Erica dumped yet another custard into the garbage, her third failed attempt at burnt-orange panna cotta that night. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but no matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t get the balance right between the orange zest and the sugar. It was either too sweet or too tangy.
It wasn’t perfect.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
She looked up to see Blaine crossing the student kitchen. Even in his preppy button-up and chinos, Erica couldn’t help but scan his solid form. Suddenly her wrist burned from where Blaine had touched her before. And her head burned from his words: I won’t wait forever.
Fine. Why would she care?
“I came to check on you, actually.”
Erica jerked her gaze up. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You seemed upset earlier, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine; thanks for asking. You can go now.” God, she sounded like a bitch. But Blaine brought out the worst in her, because he seemed to see things, know things.
And Erica hated the way her body heated just from being around the man. He was everything she despised! He annoyed her so much—how could Erica possibly be having these feelings?
She hated to admit it, but the fact was, she needed to get laid; it had been far too long.
Instead of leaving, Blaine helped himself to a taste of the cream mixture simmering on the stove. “Nice.” He tossed in a pinch of orange zest.
Erica dropped the bowl she’d been whisking and pushed Blaine aside. “What are you doing? I’ve been trying to get the taste right all night! You probably just ruined it!”
Blaine dipped his finger into the warm custard and held it a few inches from Erica’s mouth. “Taste it and find out.”
Silence stretched between them, and Erica’s head spun with so many contradictory feelings: annoyance, resistance, lust. As they stared each other down, Erica’s skin heated and her pulse raced. She wanted Blaine, but there was absolutely no logical reason why she should.
Screw it.
Lunging forward, she grabbed Blaine’s hand and sucked his finger deep into her mouth, licking and tonguing every last drop of the orange-flavored custard from his skin.
And damn it, the flavor was perfect. So she grabbed him and kissed his mouth, hard, her annoyance fueling the lust coursing through her.
Blaine groaned and Erica yanked him against her body, the kiss deepening. The man who’d been under her skin for so long was kissing her right back and allowing himself to be backed against the butcher-block island. Erica spread Blaine’s legs and stepped in close, feeling his strong thighs surrounding her hips.