31 Flavors of Kink (17 page)

I stare at the crop for a moment, then launch myself at him.

“Whoa.” He stumbles back but catches me and remains upright.

I bury my face in his shoulder, and my arms flex around his neck. Tears well in my eyes. “I love you too.”

His arms wrap around me, his hands resting on my naked ass. After a few long moments of hugging, he pats my rear. “Sid. I love you, but you have to let go now. You’re choking me.”

I release him, chuckling and sniffling. Then my gaze rests on the crop that fell to the ground. Nick looks at me, then the crop. With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he picks it up and studies it. “So. Should we try this baby out?”

My eyes widen, and I nod. “Want me upstairs?”

“No, I think I like it down here.” He places the crop on the arm of the couch. “Stay there while I go get some equipment.”

Equipment? What’s he up to? I eye the crop and speculate when he grips one of my nipples and tweaks it. “Ahh!”

He grins. “Back in a second.”

This time I eye his trouser-clad backside as he goes up the stairs, three steps at a time. My nipple’s burning, and I touch it and then the crop handle. All leather—what will it feel like on me? The two-foot length promises something awesome.

When he returns, he’s carrying the coiled rope, the Throbbinator, and padded handcuffs.

“Remember you said something about Shibari?”

“Uh-huh,” I answer warily. I don’t want to discourage him, but maybe I know more about it than he does? “Have you looked it up on the net?”

Nick tosses the handcuffs up the other end of the couch. “I can do knots. You know that. Just stand there. I have an idea.”

Hmm.
This should be interesting. As the first loop goes around behind my waist, he kisses my shoulder, pulls me close using the rope, and works his way up to my lips for a proper, thorough kiss—tongue shoved between my lips, my head pressed slowly backward by the force.
Mmm
, nice.

But as soon as he breaks the kiss, my inquisitive, doubting nature makes me blurt, “You have to make sure the rope doesn’t get too tight.”

“Sid.
Shh!
Or do I need more cheesecake to stuff in your mouth? Let me work.” He looks me over. “Maybe I should blindfold you.”

“No! Next time. Maybe. I can be quiet.”

“Really? Then shush.”

When his attention goes back to his work, I stick out my tongue.

But then I remain quiet. I’m over the moon that he’s trying. And he actually said he’d keep doing this—this BDSM stuff that he doesn’t need. He’s going to do it for me. I grin as he winds more rope around me. I watch him work. The top of his head is below me as he ties yet another knot, then does a loop that goes beneath my breasts. I shut my eyes to appreciate the rough scrape on my skin.

A few minutes go past. I’ve sneaked a few peeks but managed to not interrupt, despite my curiosity.

“
Hmm.
” The doubt in his tone makes me snap open my eyes.

“What?” There’s a strange mess of rope around my middle that resembles a macramé session done by a shortsighted grandma who’s lost her glasses. Then the rope wraps around each thigh and back around to my waist—almost like a harness. Are we going rappelling? “Nick!” I giggle. “What did you do?”

“Oh relax. I can get it off.”

“I thought you looked up how to do this.”

Still staring at the rope, he answers, “I looked at a few pictures.”

“A few pictures?” I’m struggling now to get free. “You expect to be able to do a thousand-year-old Japanese technique after glancing at a few pictures?”

“I admit it didn’t come out exactly like I planned.” I laugh, and he arches a brow. “Ideas, Miss Smarty-Pants?”

“Anything’s better than this mess.” I think while Nick undoes everything far faster than he did them up. “Something simple. How about…” Having to imagine this, then say it out loud is surprisingly arousing.

“How about you start with the halfway spot on the rope at the back of my neck, take it down between my breasts…then between my legs.”

His brows shoot up. “Okay.”

As I speak, he puts into practice what I suggest. Heat swirls and comes to life in my groin when the rope taps on my clit. I can’t believe we’re really doing this. Not fantasy, not just in my mind. My voice is whispery. “Then bring it up my back and tie my hands together there.”

Odd, but the slide of his hands down my body as he guides the rope, and the way my words come true before my eyes, somehow weaves all this into something…almost magical. Topping from the bottom? Who cares! I know each movement, each twist of the rope under his fingers, is done because he loves me. This is Nick’s way. His type of poetry. Not words, not studying the art of BDSM until he knows it back-to-front…just making love to me in the way that excites me the very most.

I don’t blink for a while. I can’t stop looking at what he’s doing to my body.

“Legs apart.” His voice is a whisper too. Then big hands press firmly at my inner thighs, pushing me to do what he says.

My eyes must be shining with excitement. As he goes behind me to loop the rope about my wrists and tie the knots, everything pulls taut.

“Whoa.” I find I’m staring at the wall and concentrating on that rope. Right down the middle of my pussy it goes, splitting my lips, sitting in my wetness, then up between my ass cheeks and to my hands.

“Whoa good or whoa bad?” Nick asks.

I strain a little, and the rope slides. My clit pops up higher. The bondage…
mmm
…it makes me want to float away.

“Whoa very good,” I answer.

Nick gives my backside a slap. “Good.” Having run his finger around the ropes at my wrists, Nick comes to the front. He grabs my ass, pulls me to him, and licks my ear.

I’m like a little doll he controls, and I wriggle against him—against his erection that strains at his pants. Again the rope…does things to me, down there. Mind-melting things. I purr and smell his neck, then bite his collar playfully.

“I like it too. At least now I can do this.” Nick cups my breasts and weighs them in his palms. He grins when I don’t flinch away. “And you can’t do a thing.”

My inner brat perks her head up. “I could kick you.” I edge my knee forward but find he’s put his thigh in the way. “Or bite.” With my teeth still locked in his collar, I tug like a puppy with a chew toy.

“Yeah, you could. Then I’d get my revenge.” Though I have an idea what he intends, I can only stand there, because he has both my nipples firmly clenched in his fingers and thumbs.

I gasp and tighten my body, waiting for pain. But he just holds them in a light pinch, watching my face. The squeezing sensation gives way to pleasure streaking down to my clit. I relax into the pinch, and he lets go.

What would the crop feel like there, swatting my nipples? I can’t help but wonder, though part of me shudders at the idea.

The crack of the riding crop on the leather of the couch makes me jerk from my little daydream.

“Yeah.” Nick circles me. “I definitely like this.” He has the vibrator in one hand and the crop swishing back and forth in the other.

Oh, boy. Am I sure I want this? No. And hell, yes. Both at once. I take a deep breath. Only one way to be sure.

“Bend over there.” He wiggles the crop toward the couch.

If he means the arm, how do I manage it without falling on my nose? “How?”

As I hesitate, Nick grabs my upper arm and directs me, supports me, helps me lean forward and set my stomach on the armrest. The last few inches, I topple over, unable to control my descent, and end up face-first in a cushion. I turn my head sideways.

“Ready?” He smoothes his palm over my ass, smacks me once, then feels along my moist cleft.

Every time I’m in this position, I’m further convinced there is nothing more vulnerable than being ass up, arms tied behind, with every bit on display. And even though I trust Nick with my life, I don’t know if I’ll ever lose that little trickle of fear.

Something hard touches the side of my butt. The crop.

I inhale, wriggle into his fingers. He taps the crop lightly a few times against my ass, sending tingles across my cheeks. Harder, I want to tell him. But I wait.

“Interesting,” he muses.

“What?”

“Well.” He snaps the crop a little harder. “I can flick it with my wrist like this.” Little flames dance across my skin. “Or…I can give it a good swing.”

The crop lands on me with a crack that spills fire into my butt. I yelp and bite my lip.

“And make a nice red stripe.” He touches what feels like a welt across both cheeks.

Just when I recover, I hear another whistle and crack.

“Yeow!” Surely my skin has split. “Red!” I hiss and suffer for a second.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, incredulous.

“No.” I take a deep breath. “No. Just…slow down a little.”

“
Hmm
…so, yellow?”

I twist to look up at him. “Yellow? Yellow means speed up before it turns red.”

“You’re turning red already.” Amusement is soaked into every syllable.

I growl. “Fine. Yellow. Just a little lighter, please. Flicking. Flicking is good.” Though now I’ve had a second, it’s not so bad. The heat spreads within, pulses.

“I’ll recalibrate.”

“You’ll… What the fuck?” Trust Nick to go all scientific on me.

Without warning, again he hits me on one side, lighter, but almost exactly the same place, five times in succession. I squeal and burrow into the cushion, then can’t stop trying to get up.

Nick squats next to me, one hand pushing down on the small of my back. My clit is so sensitive the feel of the leather sticking to my flesh is exquisitely glorious.

“You said fuck?” he whispers in my ear. “Now you can say dirty words?”

I swallow and meet his eyes. He’s inches away and yet a world away. My stinging butt captures most of my attention.

“Want me to hit harder? Tell me to hit harder.” He grins. “Beg me.”

That wakes me.

“No! Not harder.” God, not harder. I like the burn but not all-out screaming pain. I’m learning. Where I’m at right now is nice. I want more of that.

His mouth twists, and he pinches my butt. “Then beg me to hit softer.”

I’m not going to beg. I wiggle and move to escape his pinches. “No.”

“No? Then maybe I’ll stop?”

Where has this insufferable man come from? I sigh. He’s always been here. Nick and I always tease each other. Only now, he has the upper hand. I want that crop. I want to feel it so damn bad, I cave in.

“Just a few more? Please. Not harder, though.”

“Done.” He winks at me, stands, and I hear the swish of the crop as he tests the swing. “I think thirty percent of my max should do it.”

“Whatever. Recalibrate away.”

I suck in through my mouth, blink beneath the cushion, and it hits. Oh. Fuck. Just right. The whistle and smack of the crop communicates directly to all the sexual bits and pieces in my body that have never been awakened before. My body sings.

I’m so wet that as I squeal and wriggle; my thighs squish together and smear my moisture on my skin. Oh yes. This is what I wanted.

By the time he stops hitting me, I’m a mess of limp flesh molded across the couch, panting and waiting. Waiting for whatever he wants to do to me.

“Come here.” Nick pulls me to my feet, and the next I’m aware, the vibrator is applied to the rope on my clit.

“Ohh.” I freeze and thrust my thighs forward, contacting that blissful machine. Where it presses on the hard rope, it jiggles in a wonderful way and sends me straight into heaven. Swelling with heat, my clit pulses in time with my ass that burns from the application of the crop.

“Oh my God. Nick!”

“Yeah?”

He’s there, watching, but I can’t focus. I gape. The pressure builds to hurricane force in seconds, whirling tight, scrunching down.

He pulls away the vibrator.

“Noo! Put it back!” I gasp and wiggle, but he’s holding me around the waist.

“Say you want me to fuck you.”

“What?” He’s teasing me now. I’m so killing him…later. “Put it back!” I glare.

His lips curve—he knows he has the power. “Say it.”

The vibrator is still humming to itself.

“Please.” I raise my eyebrows, squeeze my thighs together onto the ache. He waits. “Okay! Please fuck me. After you put it back!”

“Good.”

The Throbbinator returns—precisely where I want it, and it jiggles my clit, my whole body, straight back into that amazing tumult. The burn on my backside merges into the vibrations. I arch and stiffen, then moan as the orgasm breaks, shatters, and roars through me, devastating everything in its path.

For infinite seconds, nothing exists but pleasure…nothing at all.

Nick holds me and kisses my neck until I sag into his arms, spent, wrung of all energy. He breathes there, into the angle of my neck, waiting with me for my body to come back to planet Earth.

I raise my head and slowly blink at him.

“Now I’ll fuck you.” He makes sure I’m standing by myself; then he undresses quickly—nearly ripping his clothes off—grabs a condom, and fits it over his cock.

Then he steers me back over the couch arm. I nestle into the leather. For a while, Nick caresses my breasts until I’m about ready to hump the couch. After he slides the rope to the side, he puts his finger on my cleft. The knowledge that it’s only a few inches to go and my clit might be touched makes me so aware of everything he does. Blood throbs through the nub of flesh. He doodles his finger up and down, teasing my entrance. I bow my back,
wanting
,
needing
, as he ever so slowly slides that finger up into my tunnel.

“I can’t believe how wet you get now. Wish we’d tried this years ago.” His voice rumbles—male, low, and so sexy. His knees brush the backs of mine. His finger pumps into me.
Slip. Slide. Slip. Slide.
I fall into a surreal state, floating in bliss. “You were never”—he spears all the way in—“like this.”

I grunt, and my walls spasm onto him. Is it weird that I feel a glow of pride that Nick can do this to me? I can’t help whispering, “See. Told you so.”

He pauses. “I heard that!”

A pinch on my inner thigh shocks me into squealing, but then I’m back to wriggling against his other fingers. “It’s true,” I choke out.