For a few seconds, neither of us moved. I imagined that in his mind he was debating the wisdom of subjecting me to more coercion. I’d said I liked things dirty, but he must have recognized that I hadn’t had much experience. It had probably been obvious by my stunned, faltering reactions to his words and his hands. But it had also been obvious that I enjoyed it, right?
What was he afraid of?
Confession: I was afraid too. Of being rejected, of being in over my head, of being wrong about my inclinations.
But mostly I was turned on. And curious. And bored with the Naughty Rabbit.
Bring on the Naughty Cop.
“Charlie.” I set my beer bottle down and got on my hands and knees. “Show me.”
He looked down at my wrists and circled one with his fingers. “Don’t. Move.”
With powerful agility, he popped to his feet and moved for the door, covering the distance in three huge strides. Left on my hands and knees at the back of the room, I felt caged but poised to escape, as if something trapped inside me was about to be set free. Insane energy radiated throughout my limbs, and my breaths were loud, louder even than my heartbeat.
A moment later, I heard the deadbolt on the front door thrown shut, and Charlie appeared again in the doorway. Glancing at the light panel just inside the room, he flipped down all the switches but one—a row of spotlights along the mirror. Then he walked slowly to a back corner of the room, about ten feet from me.
“Come here,” he said quietly. “On your hands and knees.”
Pulse racing, I crawled toward him, my eyes on his. When I reached his feet, I sat back on my heels. And saw the handcuffs dangling from his fingers.
Two sets.
And they weren’t pink.
“Put your hands up.”
I raised my bare arms over my head, my lower lip trembling when he came at me.
He moved so fast.
In three heartbeats he had me cuffed to the barre, wrists still crossed over my head, so that I couldn’t move my arms at all. I was on my knees, my back to the wall.
Charlie stood in front of me, and for a moment I thought he was going to unzip his pants and put in a request for that blowjob he’d mentioned at my house. I’d have done it, but it dismayed me a little not to have my hands free. My blowjob choreography is pretty good, I think, but it does require the use of my hands and fingers.
But Charlie had other ideas.
First, he pulled my hair free from the knot at the back of my head, letting it tumble down over my shoulders. Next, he knelt in front of me and ran his fingertips slowly from my wrists to my elbows, down my triceps to my ribcage, down my waist to my hips. I shivered in anticipation, my nipples tingling. What was he going to do to me? Sliding his palms back up my sides, he pushed the thin black cotton tank up over my breasts, letting his thumbs linger on the hard pink tips peeking through black lace.
Oh my God. I shivered so hard the cuffs rattled above my head.
“Sensitive?” He rubbed his thumbs over them in tiny, toe-curling circles.
“Yes.”
“Good. I like that.”
My stomach whooshed.
He flicked open the front clasp of my bra and lowered his head, teasing one stiff peak with his tongue, and then the other. Returning to the first, he sucked it into his mouth, pinching the other one between his fingertips. Hard. I flinched, and he closed his teeth around my nipple, holding it there and flicking it with his tongue.
More cuff rattling. A little whimpering too. Warmth bloomed between my legs, and I widened them slightly. I wanted him to touch me there. I needed it. “Charlie.” His name on my lips was a plea.
“Patience, sweet thing.” He straightened, brushing the backs of his fingers softly across my stinging nipples, then lightly rubbing tiny circles on each crest with the pads of his thumbs. Pure lust shot straight to my core, and my wrists snapped hard against the metal. He laughed quietly, bringing his thumbs to the center of my chest and trailing them in a line down to my belly button. My stomach quivered beneath his touch. “I know you’re anxious, and I am too, but I can’t have the Homecoming Queen handcuffed and helpless before me and not tease her just a little bit.”
I closed my eyes, tipping my forehead to my arm. “No. Don’t tease me.”
“So you were the Homecoming Queen.”
“Yes, but—“
“You lied to me. I might have to punish you a little bit, make you wait for what you want.”
“No! Please.” About this point, I was thinking I liked the other game better, the one where he gets me off with his fingers in about three minutes flat.
“I do like it when you say ‘please.’” Reaching behind me, he pulled my shoes off my feet. “When you beg me.”
I picked up my head, trying to regain a little control. “I haven’t begged you.”
“You will.” He yanked my pants and underwear to my knees, then pulled my legs forward so he could get them off altogether. The wood floor was smooth and cool beneath my ass. “Now get on your knees again and stay there.”
I followed his instructions, bringing my jittery legs beneath me, knees together.
“Wider.”
Holding my breath, I slid my knees out to the side. Cool air met my hot center, and I wondered if he could see how wet I was.
His eyes traveled down my body from my wrists to my knees, and I felt his gaze like molten wax dripping over my skin. “So beautiful. And such a good girl,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling the sleeves. “So good I’m going to ask her what she’d like first. My hands? My tongue?”