and came to her with that slow, silent stalk he had that set her heart pounding. He ran his finger possessively down the side of her neck, right over her pulse.
“Put your arms down, plamya. That was impressive. For a beginner, you did much better than I expected. You have to tell me when you are uncomfortable or if something hurts you, unless the discomfort is deliberate; but that would be discussed ahead of time. I have to know if your circulation is cut off and you have to tell me if your legs or arms or hands start to tingle. The point isn’t to injure you. We both should find this practice pleasurable.”
Flambé allowed her arms to fall to her sides. The relief was overwhelming as he massaged her arms with firm strokes. “Go sit in the chair near the fireplace.” He indicated the high-backed chair that was covered in a dovegray butter-soft leather.
She pressed her lips together, hesitating. He simply waited, the rope sliding through his fingers over and over, almost hypnotizing her, although he didn’t seem to be aware of the effect the sight had on her. She felt awkward being entirely naked, her body damp with arousal. She had nothing between her and the leather of the chair. Straightening her aching shoulders, she stepped past him, feeling the heat pouring off his body and wishing she could snuggle into it. He looked cold and aloof, but he felt hot as hell.
The leather of the chair was as cold as the room was. She sat properly, folding her hands in her lap.
“You don’t like to sit like that, baby,” he said softly. “We’re just talking right now. Get comfortable. Pull your legs up the way you like.”
How could he know she did that whenever she sat in a chair and no one was around? She drew her knees up, sliding her heels close to her bottom and wrapping her arms around her legs in a hug. She didn’t feel quite so vulnerable, or as on display. Part of her liked being on display for him. She had a good body; not like some of the women at the club he attended, but he never seemed to choose women for their body types. She wasn’t altogether certain he paid attention to what the women looked like.
“Pay attention, Flambé. You allow yourself to drift away and you need to learn to focus at all times. Shibari can be a harmful practice if you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re just as responsible as I am for what we do together. It may not seem like it to you as an observer, but your participation is every bit as important as mine to make what we do enjoyable for both parties. Not only are you cheating yourself if you don’t come to me with the right attitude, wholly focused and prepared to enjoy the pleasure and magic of our exchange, but it’s disrespectful to me and that’s something I will not tolerate. When I call you to me for this kind of play, you are not only to shed your clothes, but our bedroom should be the one place you can let every trouble go. I can take those burdens from you and I will. I insist on it.”
Flambé kept her eyes on the rope as it moved so smoothly through his hands. He was so confident. So completely assured. She had confidence in her work. When she interviewed. When she confronted danger moving a victim out of a dangerous zone into a holding area until she could get them out of the country and into safety. But here, with him, she felt a thrill of trepidation and for some perverse reason, she craved that feeling. She needed it to feel alive.
“You will eventually develop your own ritual, which will help to center yourself. You have to let go of all defenses. I want you to allow yourself the freedom of coming to me as emotionally naked as you are physically naked. Trust me to protect you when you’re in that vulnerable state.”
Her gaze jumped to his face. He hadn’t protected those other women. Their partners had done so, removing the ropes from their bodies and comforting them. Would he do that for her? She had no idea what he would or wouldn’t do. Did she even want him to? That would give him more of an advantage over her, yet she longed to be in the ropes. She knew