by M. A. Ellis
Her pose brought him back to the days when he had just ventured out on his own and won the bid on redesigning the eleventh hole at a premier golf course. He’d roll in after an evening of digging and planting, smelling of stale sweat and value meal cheeseburgers, and make a beeline for their bed. Just to give Kelsey an I-missed-you kiss. And there she would be, same position she was in now, pretending to be in a restless sleep.
She’d toss and turn, whatever nightgown she was wearing working its way upward in the process. Smith never could figure out how she made it look so natural. And while he was looking at the flash of bare thigh or flaming red arrow of pubic hair, her hands would suddenly drift over her breasts then down her belly. She’d linger there, which gave him time to peel his clothes off and crawl between her legs just as her fingers found her clit. They had worked it together, back in the day.
Smith looked at her pussy again. It had been forever since she’d let him go down on her. He leaned forward and moved his hands upward, tracing her kneecaps before traveling higher. He reached her thighs and gently kneaded the soft flesh. He felt her muscles jump.
Smith ran his thumbs along her inner thighs until he was a few inches away from her vulva. She flinched again and he smiled. “What’s next?” he asked Chris in the most neutral tone he could muster.
Chris’ head snapped in his direction. Smith watched him look at Kelsey’s eyes, her lips, the pulse point beating at her temples. He looked down at Smith’s hands and nodded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna need a smoke. But let me show you something first.”
Chris opened the cuffs and took them off Kelsey’s wrists, moving her hands to the arms of the chair before he untied the lengths of twisted rope and gave Smith a thumbs-up.
“Wrist bondage 101. Works on ankles too,” Chris said. “Take her hands, palms together so the rope isn’t biting into any pulse points. It’s very simple.”
Smith paid close attention as Chris folded the rope in half and wrapped it twice around Kelsey’s wrists and crossed the ends. He threaded one end between the space just below her wrists and the other between her fingers so they were on the opposite side from where he’d started. He gave them a tug then grabbed Kelsey’s forearms. “You finish it up,” he told Smith. “Tie the ends together in a figure-eight knot and you’re good to go.”
Smith flipped the ends and had it secure in seconds.
Chris nodded. “Once again, very nice. So, give me five minutes…maybe a little longer.”
“Anything I should focus on while you’re gone?” Smith asked, not expecting an answer.
Chris leaned over the arm of the chair and raised Kelsey’s bound hands. The angle forced the tight steeple of her fingers to relax. It formed an opening. An elongated diamond. One very similar to the shape of a woman’s labia.
“You do what you want,” Chris said, letting go of her hands. “Like I said. I’ll be awhile.”
Smith’s mind was racing before Chris had stepped out of the room and closed the living room slider firmly behind him. Kelsey was here and all his. From the top of her mussed-up hair to the bottom of her toes. He wrapped his fingers around her ankle and raised her leg up and outward and rested her leg on the arm of the chair so she was half opened to his view. He liked it. Her vulva was puffy, still damp with her juices. Just the tips of her inner lips peeking through. The chair was wide enough that the angle between her lower and upper leg was well defined. He considered trailing his fingers down her skin but refrained from doing so. His fingers weren’t going to touch her clit.
He grabbed her other ankle, not missing the miniscule shift of her hips. She couldn’t fool him. She was awake and paying attention.
“I know you’re still not floatin’ in the afterglow, Kels. So you might as well open your eyes. I want you to watch me.”
Her eyelids twitched and he smiled. They’d see how long she could play possum. He positioned her leg, stood up and pushed the ottoman backward in one motion. He’d need room.
“Look at you, sugar,” he said, going heavy on the accent. He knew she loved it. She swore there were times when he was really passionate about something that she actually couldn’t understand him. “Glistening. Like dew.”
He took her hands, which were resting on her waist, and drew them lower until the tips of her fingers were resting on her pubic bone, inches away from her clit. His fingers were just below her navel and he used one knuckle and traced the outline, watching her stomach contract.
“You know what we liked doin’ as kids? We’d get up, just after dawn and go looking for those dewdrops.” He dropped to his knees and tilted his head toward her right leg, letting the ends of his hair brush against the skin on her inner thigh, just above her knee. Her body jerked and Smith pulled back.
“We tried to find the biggest ones. The ones just hanging on the edge of a camellia leaf. It was a game.” He leaned in and inhaled the sweet scent of her arousal and his cock surged. He stared at the inviting sight, at the shades of pink that were evident by her being fully open to him.
“We wanted to save those leaves, show each other who had found the most, the best. But mama would have willowed our asses if we had tore up her prized flora. So we had to be content with just tippin’ those leaves downward and letting that dew roll into our wide open mouths. Just gettin’ that personal satisfaction of knowing we’d found the best.”
He pursed his lips and blew a thin stream of cool air up and down her slit, fully rewarded by a tiny groan slipping from her mouth.
“And it makes no sense,” he said, moving closer. “But the plumpest ones were always the best.”
His warm lips closed around Kelsey’s clit and she gasped. Suction held it tight while his tongue twirled around her button in a toe-curling caress. Her mouth, which had been watering from the sexy lull of his voice and the images he portrayed, went suddenly dry.
She’d missed this. So, so much. And it was her own fault. She realized that now. Would tell him so, just as soon as she could catch her breath.
“You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he muttered against her pussy, the vibration adding to the sensation. “I want every drop.”
With long upward licks he tasted her very center leisurely. As if he had all the time in the world. He moved to one side, his tongue wiggling into the crease between her folds. The smooth underside of his tongue teasing the thin inner lips while the rougher topside laved the engorged outer area. He stayed there, his caress driving her excitement higher before frustration set in. She wanted him to move. To give equal attention to the other side. She reached her hands forward and tunneled her fingers through his silky hair, trying to guide him in that direction. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it away, slanting his mouth to suck her fully. His lips moved over her entire pussy, firm then soft, up then down, until her thighs began to shake. He pulled away and she grunted in disappointment. When his lips closed over her clit once more and he drew it in quickly against his teeth she cried out.
She looked down at him through shuttered lids, panting. He moved her hand away from his head, the devilish gleam in his eyes making her heart race faster. He sat back on his heels and very deliberately positioned her fingers just above her clit. Did he know she liked starting out there, stroking above the dim little throbbing before she moved lower and buffed the engorged bud head on? How could he.
“I remember,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Do it, Kelsey.”
His strong voice left no room for arguing, even if she had wanted to. With him staring at her pussy, his chin damp from going down on her, she was past the point of worry and embarrassment. He’d loved it years ago and so had she.
She reached down, needing the right position of her fingers, but the binding restricted her.
“Take off the rope.” In her mind she pleaded, but he must have heard it differently.
His hand moved toward her breast and captured one of her still-sensitive nipples. He twisted his wrist a fraction of an inch. Pain followed by a wave of ple
asure shot to her pussy, begging for her touch.
“Don’t order me,” he said sharply. He grabbed her hands and pulled downward before grinding the rope against her clit. “Make it happen,” he ordered, releasing her hands.
The little back-and-forth rubbing had been all she needed and Kelsey wiggled her wrists against the rope, fighting, quickly finding a way to maneuver two of her fingers lower.
Her clit was slicked from his saliva and in a moment of self-torture she brushed against it before moving her fingers higher. She found the cord of muscle just above her clit and rubbed her fingers over the ridge, increasing the pressure faster than normal.
“Ohh,” she moaned, tilting her head toward one shoulder. Smith’s gaze was riveted to her face, the heat reflected there urging her on. She felt the pressure building, the familiar heat that took longer to build than when she was having sex but burst quicker when release came.
“Not yet.” Smith pulled her hand away and covered her clit with his mouth, flicking her button with the very tip of his tongue. It barely touched her aching flesh and she thrust her hips forward but he retreated in turn. “Again,” he demanded, releasing his grip on her, his breathing harsh.
Kelsey drove her hand back where it had been, not sure whether he wanted her to touch her clit or higher. Increasing the width of the circular motion, she ran her fingertips over both. She clenched her teeth and listened to the short breaths escaping through her nose. The heat building in her abdomen turned molten and she looked Smith dead in the eye, telling him without words she was going to come.
He reached for her wrist again but she saw it coming and fought him. The jerking movements of their struggle for power nearly took her over the top. As quickly as he released her his mouth joined her fingers. His tongue dueled with her caresses, stabbing her clit, the varied sensations too much for her to handle. She slid her legs over his shoulders and circled her hips. “Smith,” she moaned. “Omygod.”
“Don’t you fuckin’ come,” he ordered, yanking her hands to one side and forcing her body forward. Her legs dropped to the floor and he kissed her with a voraciousness that shocked her. Hard and long, forcing her to taste herself on his lips and tongue. He ravished her mouth, thrusting his tongue in a steady rhythm that mirrored how she wanted him to fuck her.
“I want you inside me. Omygod, I want it so bad,” she cried.
Smith pushed her away and rose to his feet. His yanked his zipper down and pushed his jeans down his legs, revealing his engorged cock. He stroked himself twice, ran his thumb over his cockhead. But she’d already seen the glistening drop that had hung there. She’d have licked it away if he had given her a chance. She felt cheated and reached for him, staring at her bound hands for a second before she realized she could stroke him all the same.
He slid between her hands, the dampness from her palms not making it a smooth glide. He thrust once then withdrew. Their gazes locked and he reached toward her head. Kelsey didn’t need him to guide her. She wanted to taste him, get his cock slick and wet so he would fuck her.
She took him into her mouth in one slow stroke, concentrating on relaxing her throat muscles around his shaft and holding him there before opening her lips and letting him slide free. She missed sucking him, licking the prominent vein that ran up the left side of his shaft. Why had she let the utter delight of blowing him become a distant memory? With pursed lips she eased her mouth over his cockhead, going up and down in a short motion that left most of his shaft exposed. He’d licked her using the same speed and her pussy rolled, reminding her that her orgasm hadn’t been reached.
She ached, sucking him with an intensity that was driven by the pounding in her cunt. His grunts of encouragement told her he didn’t mind. His hips began to thrust in return. She worked him quickly then realized there was no way she could grip his shaft with her hands tied. She tapped his thigh with her fingers and gave a little push to make him stop.
“I can’t touch you the way you like. The way that makes you come,” Kelsey said, raising just her eyes to look at him.
“Shit.” He shook his head and pulled her to her feet. “Woman. Just lookin’ at me like that is enough to make me come, but pleading blue eyes aside, you’re not getting loose. Not yet.”
He spun her around and pushed her down onto the ottoman.
“I like you tied up, Kelsey.” He melded their mouths with a scorching kiss. It was demanding, passionate, but in the back of her mind she heard herself scream “I knew it!” She spread her thighs and smiled against his lips.
“You think that’s funny?” he asked.
Kelsey looked up into his deep-green eyes. She saw the desire. The strength. The love. Despite the overriding throbbing in her pussy, heat blossomed in her chest.
“No, Sir,” she replied.
He groaned and slid into her with one slow thrust. “Fuck, that’s tight.”
“Fuck,” she returned, raising her hands over her head. “That’s amazing.”
He rocked into her, slow and steady, shifting a little each time until he hit the spot that had her uttering a startled “oh”.
“Right there,” he whispered, barely moving his hips as the head of his cock rubbed her G-spot repeatedly, not stopping when she cursed. Or even when she begged.
“Please, Smith.” Kelsey raised her head, the sight of his cock thrusting, each inward stroke ending with the fire in her veins getting hotter.
He lowered his body, his strong arms on each side of her shoulders, and changed his rhythm. He pistoned into her with enough force her breasts moved rapidly, the nipples, still sore from the clamps, heightening her pleasure.
“No please, Sir,” he grunted.
Kesley couldn’t speak, the flames licking at her pussy were ready to engulf her. Years of making love to Smith had her lifting her knees to allow him to go deeper.
“Ohhh, just like that,” he moaned, thrusting hard and deep. Everywhere his body touched hers, shards of white-hot desire pricked Kelsey’s skin from the inside. On his next thrust her body reached the brink. She exploded, her orgasm pinning her to the ottoman before her body went limp.
She heard Smith’s deep-pitched moan and knew his orgasm was right behind hers. As the weightlessness floated through her brain, she voiced her agreement. “Just like that.”
Chapter Six
Chris watched Smith’s body thrusting. It’d been a long time since he’d been a true voyeur.
Is it actually voyeurism if you can’t clearly see the person getting fucked and only a portion of the one doing the fucking? Not that he really needed to set eyes on Smith’s naked ass again.
Maybe this was a sign he should give something other than their personal playtime a try. Take Izzi with him, see how she responded to watching other people make love. See if that might pique his little closet-bondage babe’s interest, which seemed as if it had been waning lately.
He snorted and turned away from the sliding glass door. He’d give them another fifteen minutes then head back inside. Everyone should be soundly recovered by then. He looked up at the afternoon sun, then down at the tempting shade of one of the huge palm trees. That’s where he needed be. Sitting on one of their beach chairs on that manicured lawn, palm fronds rustling overhead.
Chris plodded down the steps, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his work shirt. The exterminator thing had worked, as far as plausible surprises went. All in all, the morning had been a success. Smith had been focused and there was no doubt in his mind the dude would practice like a fiend to refine his skills. Chris did want to get to the crop, though. So much pleasure could be inflicted at the end of its tiny, flat tab.
His thoughts drifted back to Izzi. To how she enjoyed the sharp slaps against her inner thighs. He stepped onto the lawn, trying to ignore the tingle of lust that had snaked around his balls. Sometimes, just the thought of her had him sporting wood. Maybe it was the fact she’d found him, or at least that was how she liked to tell the story. Trolling the blogs, looking to experiment
safely with the kink she’d contained for too many years. What a waste. Her keeping that bottled inside.
But now she has you.
Right. But for how long? Larry, sex club owner extraordinaire, had told him he needed to shit or get off the pot. Ask her to marry him before she found some other douchebag who could make her a premium martini with one hand and cane her ass red with the other. Good old Larry, procurer of the most exquisite bondage devices and wordsmith rolled into one.
Chris ran his hands over his bald head, his fingers coming away with a thin layer of sweat. He still wasn’t sure if he liked the new look. But Izzi seemed to dig it and he found himself wanting to please her more and more these days. Maybe that was his way of making up for not taking their relationship to the final level. But shit, marriage was fucking scary. It was something he needed to think about. And that shade looked pretty damn inviting. He’d seen a couple of chairs along the side of the house, near the hose. He was separating them, deciding which one would accommodate his bulk, when he heard the squeal of tires on the pavement.
He stuck his head around the side of the house and saw a taxi moving in reverse. It slammed on the brakes, rocking the car and the shadowed passenger forward. The door opened and one long shapely leg slid out of the car and hit the pavement.
Chris’s heart slammed against his chest.
What are the odds?
He’d seen shoes like that. The six-inch heels. The black-and-white saddle-shoe design. The bright-purple soles.
He ducked back around the corner as his mind raced. What the hell was she doing here? Intuition told him not to go out there. Not to confront her and ask the question. That and why she had opted for bobby socks instead of knee-highs.
Chris hurried down the side of the house, taking the stairs two at a time. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen but one thing was for certain. It was going to be fucking hot. And he needed to take back control if everything was to go his way.