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Dean could flip from hot’n’sexy to tender as easily as breathing. He patted me dry with a towel, and then led me into the bedroom and told me to lie on the bed. Excitement thrummed through my veins.
I could stare at him all night, standing with his dick in his hand, passion burning in his eyes.
“I like your metal bed frame,” his said, his voice rough. “Do you have any nylons—tights or stockings?”
“I don’t wear them.” Was it me, or was it getting hot in here? “I have some silk scarves, though. Will they do?”
“They will. Where are they?”
I gestured to the drawers behind him. “Third one down.”
He rummaged in the drawer and turned back to me, a burst of coloured silk in his fist.
Holy shit. Was I going to do this?
Apparently, yes.
Dean knelt at my side and slowly secured my right wrist to the bed frame. He ran his finger through the binding. “It’s not tight, but if you get uncomfortable, tell me.”
I nodded. My lungs were tight. I was nervous and turned on at the same time.
“Still green?” he asked, and when I nodded again said, “You have to say it.”
“Green.”
“Good girl.” He fastened my left wrist the same way.
I gave them both a tug. There was a little movement, but not much. I lay on my back, arms up. Helpless. Beyond excited.
Dean sat back and smirked at me. “I can do whatever I like to you, and you have to take it. I thought about tying your ankles as well, but we’ll save that for another time.”
“Okay.” I squeaked the word.
“Look at your pretty nipples, ready for me to play with.”
I glanced down. He was right. My breasts ached with the need for him to touch them.
He leaned forward and ghosted his breath over one, and then the other. I arched my back, pushing myself up for his mouth, and he chuckled. “Naughty. Not until I’m ready.” He did it again, and I groaned, and then again.
I was so wet, I’d be sliding off the bed if I wasn’t tied down.
Dean took his time teasing my breasts, and then kissed his way across my stomach, over my hip, and in a meandering path down my inner thigh.
By this time, I was pleading with him to touch me. To make me come. Another climax hovered out of reach, but he made me wait. I yanked at the scarves but couldn’t break free. Whatever fancy knots he used, I was here until he released me.
After his hot breath bathed my pussy lips, his fingers dancing in a pattern everywhere except on my aching clit, I begged him.
“Please, Dean. Please.”
“Please, what?”
I swallowed. It was hard to speak. I was writhing on a knife edge of pleasure. “Please fuck me. Please.”
At last, foil crinkled, and he withdrew. “You’ve been a good girl, Steph. And since you asked so nicely...” Kneeling over me, cock in his hand, he gazed at me through hooded eyes. “You look so pretty like that. Totally fuckable. You’re my little sandy girl.”
When he drove deep, he filled me in one push. I raised my hips, arched my back again, and cried out. So good. Oh my God. I was going to come. Spasms wracked my body, and I trembled from head to toe. Jesus Christ and all the saints. This was as close to a religious experience as I ever had.
“Yes,” Dean whispered to me. “Feeling you come around my cock is fucking amazing. Best thing ever.” He flexed his hips and pumped into me, setting a hard, fast rhythm.
I lay still for a moment, to catch my breath. I was wrung out. Or was I? When Dean circled my clit with his thumb, everything inside me woke up again. I couldn’t come again. Could I?
His breathing was as ragged as mine. Perspiration dotted across his chest, and I longed to lick it off.
I gave a feeble tug at the bindings, but I wasn’t fighting them. They held me to the bed, otherwise I’d be floating away. With Dean driving into me, chanting my name, I knew what heaven felt like. I was right here. It’d never been like this before.
“Fuck. I’m close,” he said. “I want you to come on me first.”
I wanted that too. I’d lost the power of speech, so I nodded. He leaned forward and closed his mouth around one breast, his teeth rasping against the delicate bud. At the same time, his thumb rubbed my clit. So much stimulation, all at once.
I came in a blur of colour and sparks behind my eyes. “Dean. Dean. Dean,” I whispered. “God. Dean.”
He followed me with a shout, and this time I was spent. My heart raced like an Olympic sprinter, and I had to force myself to breathe.
This wasn’t just sex. This was something else entirely.