Page 38 of Seven Nights

Griffin places two strips of fabric across my skin. One along my neck, the other across my forehead.

“I’m going to blindfold you, Katelyn.”

So the lights won’t stay off. He wants to see me when I can’t see him, just like with the hair pulled across my eyes in the cab and when he was leaving the bedroom after using the cuffs on me or telling me to face the shower wall while he dried off.

In the darkness, I lift my head so he can tie the silk strip around my head, covering my eyes.

He turns the bedside lamp on when he is finished. Pale white streaks play at the edge of the fabric, but I cannot see any objects.

A wet cloth brushes lightly at my bottom lip.

“Gagging you, too.”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to rip away the blindfold.

He brings his lips to my ear, his voice soft but not reassuring. There is a vibration to it I haven’t heard before.

“Only while I play with you,” he whispers. “And I won’t tie your hands. If you want me to stop touching you for the evening, for whatever reason, you will knock on the headboard three times. Unlike your safe word, it won’t break the contract. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I rasp, arousal seeping in to push back the fear and ugly memories.

“Then open,” he orders.

I swallow then part my lips.

Griffin pushes the wet, balled cloth in then secures it with the second scarf.

“Cross your arms over your chest and keep them there, Kate.”

I frown. The movement makes the wet cloth in my mouth feel bigger—choking almost. This is just more punishment. I won’t be allowed to touch him.

His voice roughens as I delay. “Do it or knock three times, Kate. Those are your choices.”

I fold my arms across my breasts.

Making matters worse, Griffin takes a pillow and places it along my hip before he climbs onto the bed and settles down, the pillow between us.

His hand smooths across my stomach to reach my thighs. Kissing my ear, he drags his fingertips through the soft fur of my sex. “I'm shaving this pretty little pussy tomorrow, love.”

Heat and need swell inside me. Why does he keep using that word!

Griffin shifts along the mattress then wraps one of his big, strong hands around my left thigh. He pulls the leg to him, the pillow bunching between us. I feel him rise up on one elbow and lean toward me. Only his shoulder and his opposite hand touch me.

But his hand is more than enough to drive me mad as he kneads my swollen outer labia.

“You want me to fuck this tight little pussy.”

It’s a declaration, not a question. I moan my confirmation even though I know he has no intention of fulfilling my desire.

“If you'd been a good little pet, I might have,” he rumbles in my ear. “Then I wouldn't have to spend the night with a mutinous cock and aching balls.”

Whimpering through the cloth, I try to maneuver my way around the obstructing pillow.

He issues a brusque command to stop.

I settle into my original position. Griffin takes the lobe of my ear between his teeth, gently nibbling while his fingers start a slow exploration of my pussy. With two fingers forming a wide V, he rubs along the sides of my clit. Every few rubs, the pattern random or determined by my dancing hips, he dips lower to draw from the rich supply of cream already pushing out from my cunt.

His tongue traces near the center of my ear, the action followed by a sharper bite of the lobe. His thumb takes command of my clit, his breathing growing rough as I start to wiggle and moan.

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