Page 95 of Rope Me In

He steps back behind me, his hands moving to my hips again so I can see my full rope-bound form in the mirror.

He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Look at you, Presley. Look at how incredible your body is. How fucking beautiful you are.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and focus on his words and his touch, resisting the urge to close my eyes. Kade continues to stroke my skin as I stare at the woman in the mirror, finallyletting my stomach relax. For a moment, I don’t blink, I don’t fidget, I just look. It’s like having an out-of-body experience, similar to the night Kade spanked me. I know the woman I’m looking at is me, but at the same time, she isn’t.

This woman looks more confident than me. Her perfectly imperfect body is covered in beautiful red-and-tan rope that was woven in careful and practiced detail. Her rolls, stretch marks, and cellulite are all on display. The harsh light from above casts a less-than-flattering glow on her pale skin. But that doesn’t matter, because she’s beautiful, and her body is strong. It’s as if the man behind me has turned me into a work of art.

The back of Kade’s hand against my cheek has me sucking in a breath. It’s then I realize I’m crying, just like I did that night in the loft. He wipes the tears away while his eyes remain on us in the mirror.

My attention shifts from myself to how our bodies look together. The yin and yang of his broad shoulders and narrow waist behind the soft curves of my body. The sight of his tannedleft arm against my pale skin and black and gray tattoos. His shaggy, dusty-colored hair compared to my platinum-and-violet waves.

In many physical ways, Kade and I are opposites. But in many other ways, we’re the same. We’re both just lost people looking for connection, for kindness, for care, for love. And somehow, despite our differences, we found that in each other.

He tugs on a lock of my hair while continuing to look at our reflection. “I want to play a little game,” he breathes against my ear.

I turn my body slightly to look up at him, wanting to see his eyes without looking through a mirror. The movement reminds me that I have rope digging into my skin and the burn it’s causing the longer we stand here. But like I told Kade, I enjoy the subtle pain. It’s keeping me focused and in my body, not in my head.

“What kind of game?” My voice comes out huskier than normal.

Kade swallows, his stubbled throat working. “You tell me three things you like about your body, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He punctuates the T as he gently places a whisper of a kiss on my lips before nudging me back so that we’re looking at each other through the mirror once more.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He grins, kissing my neck before resting his chin on my shoulder.

We stare at each other for a long moment while I think, his fingers gripping my hips, and his hard length resting against my backside. The heat of it reminds me of what I’m planning to ask for.

“My eyes,” I say, picking one of the easiest things first.

He hums, his hands trailing toward my pussy. “I like your eyes, too. They remind me of sapphires.” He cups the space between my legs, applying gentle pressure until he’s rubbing my clit with the palm of his hand. “What else do you love?”

I stifle a cry at the delicious feel of him, attempting to thrust my hips up to relieve the ache. He shakes his head and pulls his hand away. “If what you want is for me to make it better, Lemon, you have to tell me two more things.”

I can’t help the groan that leaves my lips, and he chuckles, his hot breath fluttering over the skin of my neck.

“Two more,” he repeats.

I stare at us in the mirror again, Kade’s hands now unmoving on my hips. “My breasts. Everyone thinks large boobs are great, but I like being part of the itty-bitty titty committee.”

That has him smiling wider until his dimples show. “Your tits are perfect, darlin’.” His hands travel upward, leaving fire in their wake as he cups my breasts and squeezes. “They fit perfectly in my hands. And they look exquisite in my ropes, don’t you think?”

He flicks my nipples, and I nearly melt into his body. “They do.” I exhale, my pussy getting wetter at his teasing.

He removes his hands once more and puts them back on my hips. “Last one.”

I could say my hair or my smile. Those are always ones that people like me who are insecure about their appearance say. The ones that people in larger bodies are taught to say.

With a small sigh, I study myself, the newfound beauty of my body in Kade’s ropes. In a way, I look like a painting, especially with him standing next to me. He’s too handsome to be real sometimes.

Kade moves his thumbs back and forth across my hips, patiently waiting for my answer, and I finally open my lips. “My stomach.”

Kade’s eyes widen and light up like a Christmas tree, a slow grin a mile wide spreading across his face. Slowly, I watch as his large hands slide from my hips across my waist, the expanse of his palms coming to lie flat against the skin of my midsection. I exhale a breath as he holds my middle, the pressure of his fingers pressing the rope further into my skin.

“And why do you love your stomach, Presley?” he asks, though this time, his voice is tentative like he’s afraid his question will make me change my mind.

I look at his hands on the rolls of my stomach, the part of my body I was taught to hate. It’s just fat and skin, and if you really think about it, it’s ridiculous the world puts so much disdain and condemnation into something so uncomplicated.

My gaze connects with Kade’s in our reflection, the corners of my lips tipping up in a small smile because I know my answer. “Because it’s part of me.”

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