Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
My hands smacked back against the table to support myself as he jerked the bar and my feet high enough to hook my heels against the edge of the table.
I gave an inelegant yelp and snapped my knees closed as much as I could with my ankles forced apart.
“Ah, ah, ah, princess.” His light reprimand contradicted the sharp shove of his hands against my knees, pushing them wide.
I fell back to my elbows and panted, breathless under the onslaught of the unknown.
“Stay,” he ordered, holding my legs apart. Despite my skirt sliding up to my hips, exposing my panties, he didn’t look away from my face, and I latched onto the odd, dark comfort in his gaze.
“Good girl,” he praised, letting go to grab the rope.
The warmth that phrase sent through me always made me question my sanity, but it spread too quickly for me to care for long.
“I’m going to use a softer rope than we used at the club. The point is to hold you open, not necessarily the sensation of the rope against your skin. Although, it will add to the experience. What’s your safe word?”
“Red, Sir,” I answered softly.
He spent the next ten minutes coiling the rope around the table and my thighs. His fingers lingered with gentle grazes against various spots along my legs, pulling gasps and breathy whimpers at every touch.
With the rope first looped around the pole holding my ankles apart, he wrapped each end around a leg of the table before bringing it back up on either side of me. He slid the smooth material around my hips to create a simple pattern before returning back under the table with a final knot. When I couldn’t scoot backward or forward, he went to work with another rope, coiling three loops around my thigh and calf to hold them tightly together with my knees bent. Finally, he slipped the rope through the top bond of one leg and dragged it under the table to repeat the process to the other leg. Each end of the rope laid over the side of the table at my hips, where he tugged them back to where he started, around the pole.
Gripping the two leads, he held my gaze and jerked them tight, snapping my knees further apart from where they started to relax closed. He’d bound the lower half of my body to the table with my knees bent, spread wide, and unable to move.
“I wonder, princess,” he started, his eyes stroking down my body to between my legs. “How far will you let me pry these pretty thighs apart?”
I swallowed and struggled to collect my thoughts, pushing back the need to beg him to soothe the growing ache he always managed to create, because it wasn’t the answer he wanted. With a deep breath, I gave him the answer he needed—the only answer that mattered. “As far as you need, Sir.”
His eyes blazed and his jaw clenched.
Bigger.
He grew bigger with each ounce of my submission and watching him absorb the power I willingly gave only enhanced my desires for more, more, more.
Another jerk to the rope, and my legs snapped open to their limits, muscles straining where my thighs met my hips. I whimpered, and he hesitated until he noticed my hips push against the air. With a knowing smile, he tied the last knot to hold me in place—freeing his hands to do whatever he wanted.
He stood back and stared, eyeing me like a feast he didn’t know where to start at. His gaze stroked my skin like a physical touch, setting fire to every inch. The perfect contradiction to the cool air flowing between my damp thighs. Without looking away or making a noise, he unfastened the buttons at his wrist and rolled up his sleeves, baring tanned forearms. The veins enhancing the flex of each muscle, leading down to fingers, I grew to ache for any way I could get. Soft, hard, rough, gentle.
Air stuttered in my chest when he closed the gap between us, resting his palms against my knees before sliding down to my panties. His fingers curled into the waist of the black lace and jerked. I yelped from both surprise and the bite of pain.
“Those were expensive,” I reprimanded. Or attempted to. It fell flat on a breathy moan, the sting fading to heat flooding my core.
He leaned forward, bracing himself on either side of my hips, and blocked out the lights, swallowing me into his shadows. “I don’t give a shit,” he said with a tip of his lips. “Use daddy’s money to buy yourself another pair, princess.”
I clamped my jaw tight, blocking the small gasps of air his curated anticipation left me with. Pressing to my hands from my elbows, I leaned into his space. I did it with the intention of pushing back against his control, hoping it pissed him off the way his words pissed me off. Maybe that was his intention all along.