Storm Born Page 0,119

sound of protest until I realized where he went next.

Looping his fingers through the sides of my panties, he pulled them down, stopping abruptly when they reached midthigh. For a moment, I thought it was more of his teasing until I suddenly grasped the situation.

"It's, um, called a Brazilian wax," I explained, voice still breathy.

"Oh." His own voice held wonder. "Oh my."

His fingers ran over that delicate area, both for sensuality and his own curious exploration. With a happy sigh, he removed the underwear altogether and carefully spread my thighs apart. Then, his mouth was upon me, his tongue running along that most sensitive of spots in one smooth motion.

It was like a spark to a powder keg. My whole body bucked up as heat exploded throughout me, and I made some sound vaguely like a whimper. Both of his hands slid up and held me firmly in place, reminding me again that I'd given up the power here. That same conflicting mix of fear and need flared up inside of me, scared that he could do anything he wanted to me and half-hoping he would.

When he grew convinced I wouldn't thrash anymore, he let one hand slide back to my thighs. His mouth had never stopped in its fervent feeding, and now his fingers moved in, pushing into me with smooth motions timed to work with his mouth. I moaned against his touch, my head thrown back and upper body arched. He had an uncanny knack for pulling back each time orgasm was about to occur. So, when he finally allowed me that release, it almost caught me by surprise.

My flesh ignited, electric and glorious. I shivered as my muscles contracted, as that scorching ecstasy poured through my body. Even when that tide broke, he kept his mouth down there licking and probing until I begged him to stop, too overcome by the flood of sensation. He took his time in obeying the request, finally moving away and laying his body on top of mine.

Every part of him pressed against me, hard and wonderful, and I writhed under him, yearning for more. He moved his hands back up to my arms, again firmly pinning me in place. His mouth crushed mine, forcing me to taste myself on his lips. Struggling did no good.

When he released me from the kiss at last, his face moved only a fraction of an inch away from mine.

"I know why you're doing this," he said. "Why you wanted to be bound. It's because you want the decision taken out of your hands. You knew once you were here, there'd be no turning back. You wouldn't have to be burdened with the decision of willfully coming together with me. You would have no choice in the matter and hence relieve yourself of any guilt or anticipation."

He kissed my cheek and then lingered on my ear a little. "In a moment, I swear I can ravage and take you as much as you want, if that's what makes it easier. But your choices aren't gone yet. We can stop if you want. Or I can untie you. You can tell me you want this and join with me not in submission, but as an equal."

The words were on my lips. Yes, untie me. Make love to me. Fuck me. I want to be with you. I could have said any number of things to change the balance of power. I could have gained both control and freedom again. Yet, I said or did nothing. Maybe it was because it was the only way I could go through with this. Or maybe I just wanted it this way. Maybe I even enjoyed it. Regardless, I stayed quiet, and he read the answer in that.

He rose up, looming over me. He was a conqueror, coming to collect, and I was a prize, open flesh waiting to be seized. That fear lurched up in me, and I thrived on it. It was delicious. Thrilling. I gave up my power. I gave myself to him.

Almost on his knees, he spread my legs apart and pushed in. I screamed, almost more from mental than physical sensation, my arms straining uselessly against the ties. He filled me, punctuating each powerful movement into me with a soft grunt in his throat I thought even he wasn't aware of.

I wanted to reach up and wrap my arms around him, pull him against me. But all I could do was lay there, lay there and