Page 92 of Forced Vows

Does it matter?

The leather holds my wrists together without cutting into them.

He lifts them above my head and lays my bounds wrists on the chair. "Don't move them."

"If I do?"

"I'll remove the belt."

"And?" I prompt.

"And I'll keep doing what I'm doing, but your hands will be free." His gaze traps mine. "This is all about pleasure. For us both."

I nod my understanding.

"If you say no, I stop. If you say stop, I stop. If you say off, I take the belt off. If you say get off, I do."

"I don't want you to stop."

"Good." He picks up his knife and begins to run it over my body, leaving chills of excitement in its wake.

How can this feel so good?

After pushing my thighs as far apart as he can and since I am extremely limber, that's pretty far, he slides the flat of the blade over my labia. His pinky finger runs a parallel line between my inner lips, through the slick wetness.

I try to stay still, but my hips move restlessly. I can't help it.

The knife clatters as it lands on the tile.

There is no chance to feel the loss of it, or think I messed up. His big hands with fingers as delicate against my skin as his blade cover every inch of the path the knife took.

I thrust upward wanting more and almost cry when his hands leave my skin. But he picks me up, turning me over and putting me on my knees facing the back of the big armchair.

The sound of the ottoman moving barely registers in my fevered brain.

He bends me forward and arranges my limbs so my forearms rest on the back of the chair. My wrists are still bound.

"Miceli!" I cry, needing.

He rubs his hard length up and down the crack of my bottom. Is he going to…?

Am I ready for that?

"Do you want me inside you?"

There can only be one answer, even if I'm nervous about where exactly he's going to put that oversized dick.

He spreads my intimate flesh from behind and the head of his sex presses against my soaked entrance. Relief and disappointment both cause the sigh that gusts out of me.

Then he thrusts forward with his powerful hips, filling and stretching my tight channel. My vaginal walls squeeze and he grunts.

One hand comes around and hard fingers press against my clitoris.

It's so much sensation, my brain shorts out.

He thrusts in and out of me, keeping those amazing fingers against my sensitive nub. Ecstasy doesn't build, it coils tighter and tighter.

"Miceli, do something!" He has to end this terrible tension.

---