Brothers in Blue A Bryson Family Christmas - Jeanne St. James Page 0,14

That’s your slobber.”

“Now who’s lying? I’m going to check the tub since I’m up.” He disappeared into the bathroom and was back in a flash, his bobbing erection looking a bit painful. “We have time.”

“From the way you look, you won’t need much time.”

He grinned. “No, I won’t. And I want no complaints since you just came twice.”

She lifted both hands in surrender, the solid gold band on her left ring finger catching her attention briefly. “Fine. No complaints. For now.”

He climbed back on the bed, considering it and her for a few seconds. Then his grin widened. “How does my little sadist want me?”

“Flat on your back. In a starfish. I’m not tying you up but I want you to pretend you are. That means, unless I instruct you to move, don’t.”

She moved out of the way, and let him spread out as requested, not a complaint to be heard. He stretched his long arms and legs until his hands and feet were almost touching each corner of the king-sized bed. His erection was lying on his hip, a thick string of precum connecting the tip to the ridge of muscle there.

When she leaned over and quickly licked it away, he jerked. She lifted her head. “Don’t move.”

“That was involuntary.”

“Mmm hmm.”

She reached under the pillows and pulled out the chain first. His eyes focused on that and a flush rose up from his chest onto his throat, where she could see his pulse begin to pound.

Oh yes. It had been a long time since they’d used it and his reaction showed her that they needed to use it more often, just like the gel.

He said nothing, but his body went electric as she hooked the clamps to the small gold rings. The chain was long enough she could use them as reins.

She awkwardly straddled his waist, the head of his cock pressing against one of her ass cheeks, the slippery beads of fluid from the crown smearing against her skin.

This time when she reached under the pillow, she pulled out the feather. She twirled it within her fingers right in front of his face. His eyes went wide for only a split moment, then narrowed. But still, he said nothing.

He liked it rough. She liked it rough.

A feather was not rough. It was torture.

She brushed the feather over her closed lips, her chin, her neck, her chest and circled each nipple. After making sure her nipples were nice and peaked again, she continued over her rounded belly, past her pussy until she reached him.

His stomach lurched slightly when she lightly touched him.

“Don’t move,” she reminded firmly.

“Pull the chain.” He wasn’t asking...

“When I’m ready.”

“Leah...”

She touched the feather to his lips. “Hush.”

He hushed.

She started where she straddled him and slid the long, soft feather up over his six-pack—yes, he still had one at forty-one, just not as distinct as when she first met him—and she took her time, teasing his pierced and chained nipples lightly with the very tip.

“Leah,” he groaned, his muscles tightening. A sign he was struggling to obey her orders of not moving.

“Hmm?”

She didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one because he knew better than to complain. Complaining only extended the torture. The torture in this moment, being the soft touch of a feather.

She swept it down both sides of his face, along his nose, over his lips again, which were now parted as he panted slightly.

The precum was leaking steadily against the skin of her ass, where his cock was pressed. He also kept flexing it against her, giving her an indication of just how hard he was.

Which meant he was ready to explode.

“Stay there,” she whispered, with a last brush of the ostrich feather over his chest, nipples and stomach. Then she carefully climbed off of him and the bed, and headed into the bathroom to check the tub.

“Leah!” he shouted.

She smiled as she turned off the water since it was over the level it needed to be for two people. Water would be spilled but it would be worth it.

Now they needed to hurry up before it turned cold.

But she didn’t hurry, she took her time. Before she stepped out of the bathroom she said, “You better not have moved. I have a photographic memory.”

“I would know if you did!” he shouted, sounding very frustrated.

“I just never told you because I was waiting for the right moment.” She stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the bed. “And now it is...” She gasped