Page 186 of Charlie

"Let me be in control, Charlotte."

Fuck.

"Just until they get back, then you can do whatever you want to me," he amends, hopeful.

"Whatever I want?" I bite my lip, thinking of the possibilities. I nod my agreement, but he stares me down, waiting for me to say it. "Yes, sir," I whisper, heat pooling between my legs.

"Pick a safe word." Judging by his voice, I would think this wasn't affecting him, save for the way his throat bobs, the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his pants tent in front of him.

"Kelly Clarkson," I say, sticking with the same word I told Jack when he first asked me.

He goes still, trying to figure out if he heard me correctly before doubling over in laughter. "God, I fucking love you," he wheezes. "Kelly Clarkson it is." He climbs up on the bed, the smile slowly melting from his lips as he hooks his fingers into the sides of my underwear and peels them down my legs, then unhooks my bra, sliding it off my arms carefully.

"Can I tie you up?" he asks, his gaze locked on my lips, his pupils blown wide.

"Are you supposed to ask me questions when you're in control?" I ask, biting my lip to hold in a smile.

"I still need your consent, mo chridhe. Once I have that, all bets are off."

"Yes, I give you consent to tie me up, lick me, fuck me, use me."

He launches himself on the bed, tackling me, framing my face between huge hands, plundering my mouth, taking everything I have to give. He reaches toward the end of the bed and grabs the rope, looping it around my wrists before securing it to the headboard. More rope loops around each ankle, and he spreads my legs wide, securely tying me to the end posts. The pulse between my thighs is almost unbearable as I wait for him to make a move.

"Close your eyes," he commands, kneeling beside my head to tie his t-shirt around my eyes.

Oh, God.

My senses heighten the second the blindfold is on. The sound of his pants hitting the floor, his feet on the carpet as he walks to the end of the bed, the slight inhale as he looks at me spread wide for him.

"Do I have permission to send a picture to Cam and Lach?" he asks, his voice husky.

"Yes," I say immediately, ready to agree to anything that will get them back here faster. Wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by them. Filled by them.

"That's the last thing I'm asking permission for," he warns, his hands trailing over my calves, thumbs digging into the arches of my feet. Then, finally, the brush of his beard on the inside of my knee, callouses sweeping up my thighs, lips so close to giving me relief that I sob as I strain against the bindings.

"Tell me what you want." His brogue skitters over my skin like lightning, making it hard to breathe.

"Your tongue," I pant.

His thumbs frame my pussy, sliding up the crease of my thighs, making me squirm.

"Where?" he presses, the pads of his thumbs massaging me on either side of my clit.

"Jack, please," I sob, struggling against the ropes, desperate for his touch, my brain short-circuiting. Rough hands cup my breasts, pinching my nipples hard, his low hum of approval lodging deep in my core. He slides his nose along mine, his hair tickling my face. "Where?" he asks again, his lips brushing mine.

"Between my legs." I cry out as he draws a nipple into his mouth, pain warring with pleasure.

"There are lots of things between your legs, Sassenach." He slides his middle finger down my slit and between my cheeks, circling my asshole. I moan, every nerve ending hypersensitive, my body needy for anything he'll give me.

"Here?" His breath skates over my stomach as his finger works over me, pressing against me until my body yields to him. Stars bloom behind my eyelids, breath trapped in my lungs. "Or maybe here?" He sinks his thumb into my pussy, a desperate, guttural moan leaving my lips as my brain and body fight for control. He peppers my stomach with kisses as he works his magic, driving me wild but not letting me tumble over the edge. "Or here?" His lips vibrate against me as he fastens them over my clit, sucking me into his mouth like he's been starved for years. He pulls back just as quickly, tears springing to my eyes at the loss of his touch. "Where, Charlotte?" he asks again, his voice coming from across the room.

"Everywhere, Jack. Please."

"Good girl," he praises, the bed dipping beside my head. I'm going to untie your hands but keep them above your head. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Once both wrists are free, he moves between my legs, the heat of his hands burning me alive. He grabs my hips and pulls me to the end of the bed, my knees spreading impossibly wide.

"Are you comfortable?"

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