Page 46 of Marcus-stiltskin

“I don’t want to pull you from the table if you don’t want to go.”

From the depth of his old man’s slumber, Freddie K., his paws straight up in the air as usual, chooses that exact moment to fart loudly and we both start to laugh.

“I think I’m fine with being pulled.”

I stand up, take his hand and pull him to standing.

He scratches the back of his head and looks down at my hand as I pull him toward the bedroom. “Oh, hey, actually, I have something I wanted to run by you before we…”

Chapter Eighteen

In Which We Learn Who’s The “Bad Influence” in a Fun Way

“Sure,” I say, continuing to drag him behind me.

“I, uh, have a question for you,” Marcus says.

Now that all of his household goods have finally caught up to him, the room looks more like a bedroom and less like the first place I lived in after I quit beauty college. His furniture is all plain and solid dark wood, with a bed frame that keeps the bed off the ground but is still low enough that he has no trouble getting in and out.

“I ordered something, and it came in today.”

“That’s actually a statement,” I tease.

He shuts the door behind us to keep Freddie K. from ambling in as I pull my shirt over my head. He takes advantage of my shirtlessness, running his hands across my bare skin before I lean against him and start scratching his back. He sighs and wraps his arms around me.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat and looks down at me.

“Yes?” I say, enjoying his nervousness.

“Can I show you?”

“What you ordered?” I grin. “I’d love to see.”

He kisses me softly, then walks across the room to the bed. From under the mattress I watch him pull out one end of a black restraint, before he walks to the other end and pulls out another. It takes everything in me not to squeal like a kid getting a fancy bike at Christmas.

Marcus, the sweetest, funniest, most vanilla man I’ve ever dated, actually bought restraints for the bed. I am officially the bad influence in this relationship.

“You got restraints? For me? How did you know?” I tease.

“Well,” he starts, looking far more nervous than I’ve ever seen him.

“Was it all the hints I’ve been dropping? All the times I cum on your hand when you’ve got me pinned down? All my lame attempts at holding you down?”

He chuckles. “I didn’t think they were lame. I actually thought it was kinda hot.”

He walks around the far side of the bed and pulls out the other two restraints, then sits down to kick off his shoes. He holds out his hand to me and I take it, plopping down next to him. He presses his lips to my ear. “Can I tie you up?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” I reach for his shirt, but he stops me.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? It’s not too much–”

I stop his words with a kiss, gently nipping his bottom lip as I move to straddle him, unhooking my bra so my breasts are exposed and easily accessible. He is a boob guy, through and through. Whatever he was about to say or do immediately changes in favor of lavishing my breasts with attention.

Excitement fills my belly as I wait for him to get brave and actually tie me up. I could demand he do it now, but there’s no point in scaring him off when he’s come this far on his own. I step up off his lap and let him finish getting undressed as I kick off my shoes and socks.

I strip down to my panties and crawl to the middle of the bed, laying down, while I wait for him to make his move.

He undresses quickly, removing his prosthetic and then crawling over until he’s between my legs. I spread them out, so he has more room and he grins.

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