Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,10

feet.

“Arms above your head, baby. Wrists together.”

Maybe a little too eagerly, I slide my arms up the smooth fabric of the duvet, stretching them high above my head. Trey makes quick work of binding both wrists together before testing the tie once to ensure it's not too tight. The bed shifts again as he hops off to round the footboard, coming to stand on the other side. Tipping my head back, chin to the ceiling, I try to figure out what he’s up to. The binding tightens and tugs, stretching my arms even higher as he secures it to something I can't see.

Trey's handsome face fills my vision as he leans over the bed, hands on either side of my head. Deliberately slow, he lowers his face to mine. His fuller lower lip presses between the seam of my own, sucking mine between his lips in an erotic upside-down kiss. Dotting light kisses along my cheek and sucking down my neck, he caresses his calloused palms over my shoulders before skimming down to cup both breasts. I don’t hold my low moan of need back.

I gasp, eyes sealing shut at the bite of pain as Trey pinches both pebbled nipples and twists. There’s no dignity in my whimper, not that I care in this moment. The curve of his lips along my shoulder tells me he's smiling through the delicious torment. Too soon his lips lift from my overly sensitive skin and his hands pull away from my aching nipples with one last torturous pinch.

“Trey,” I beg. Opening my eyes, I lift my head as high as I can with my hands tied, searching the room. “Where are you?”

“I think you've seen enough.” He chuckles behind me before sliding something soft over my eyes. I blink frantically behind the material. It allows light to pass through the cloth but prevents me from seeing anything. A few strands of hair tighten painfully as whatever is around my eyes is secured behind my head. “Now, be a good girl and stay quiet. I'll be back.”

“No,” I gasp. Panic sets in. Yanking at my arms, I fight the hold while rotating my head back and forth along the bed, attempting to dislodge the material covering my eyes. “Trey, get your ass back here,” I hiss quietly. Surrounded by agents trained to protect me, yelling out in my current naked and tied state seems very, very unwise.

No response.

Fuck. He really did leave me.

My heart thunders against my chest with fear while my body betrays me below, dampening with heavy arousal. I clench my thighs together, hoping to hide the slick evidence of how much I love this despite my reservations. Giving up on breaking free—because let’s be honest, I don't want to—I relax as much as I can to listen for his return.

A soft click comes from the direction of the door. Near-silent footsteps draw closer to the bed.

I hold a shallow breath.

“Trey?” I whisper.

No answer.

The press of something cold and wet against my inner right thigh startles a gasp from my lungs. Slowly the freezing sensation slides up, leaving a trail of cool liquid in its wake. The ice-cold tip then traces along the line of my boy shorts, barely peeking beneath the tight elastic band before disappearing completely. Ice clinks against glass, my ears perking at the sound. Another icy tip circles along the inside of my other thigh, slowly climbing higher. Edging along the elastic band, the ice slides over the thin cotton to press against my burning folds.

I groan in frustration, need, annoyance. My hips jut off the bed of their own accord, seeking more of the delicious cold sensation against my center. Short, sharp breaths brush past dry lips.

Up and down he glides the bit of ice along my panty-covered slit, pausing at my swollen bundle of nerves. The biting cold presses hard before swirling in fast, tight circles. Unable to stifle my groans, I struggle to swallow each moan of pleasure that wants to rattle the walls.

Water drips down my center, some from the melting ice, the rest from my own slickness.

He swirls the nub of ice faster against my clit, pressing harder and eliciting sharp gasps.

Cold fingers slide along the top band of my panties before tugging them down to my ankles and ripping them off, displaying his urgency.

My thigh muscles stretch wide at the insistent press of his palms against the insides. Hot breath brushes along my center, dissolving the earlier chill. At the feel of