Chapter 30 You Get It Now?
You Get It Now?
Darcy
Eric stands to cross the room, and I try to regulate my breathing.
He can tie my hands to the bedpost with his new bow tie. That’s what I’d written in my DM. It had been a joke, but only sort of. I mean—it’s a top-tier fantasy of mine.
Fantasies, though—they usually don’t come true. I can’t believe I’m watching Eric borrow the tiebacks from the heavy draperies at the window and stalk toward me with the heavy satin ropes in his hands. Then he reaches for one of my wrists, which he lifts off the bed.
“Here we go,” he says, looping one of the ropes around one of the vertical spindles on the headboard and then sliding my hand through. “Grab here,” he says, showing me where to hold the loop, before he expertly cinches the rope to the spindle.
When he’s done, I experiment with the tightness. The rope is secure, but it’s not going to hurt me.
“You solid?” he asks quietly.
I nod jerkily.
“You’ll let me know if this isn’t working for you,” he says, moving around to the other side of the bed to secure my left wrist.
“Okay,” I whisper. It’s wild having my hands tethered like this. And yet I’m not panicking. My heart is doing gymnastics, sure, but not out of fear. It’s exhilaration. It’s the thrum of being seen so clearly. All my usual defenses are blown to shreds.
Because Eric didn’t laugh at this idea. And he didn’t hesitate. He just remembered that dumb, flirty thing I said—and then he made it real. It gives me the ridiculous, overwhelming urge to tell him everything I’ve never said out loud.
Like: I’ve never trusted anyone else to do this for me.
Or: I don’t usually let go like this.
Or maybe just: I really, really like you.
But I zip my lips together and watch him through my lashes instead. He’s focused, methodical. His hands brush my skin with deliberate care, and even now—when I’m technically at his mercy—he makes me feel powerful.
“Still good?” he asks, his voice low, warm.
I nod again, throat too tight to answer. But I am. Good, I mean. Better than good.
I’ve never felt so much like myself. And maybe that’s the wildest part of all.
Meanwhile, Eric is also living his best life. With my hands secure, he climbs back onto the bed—all golden skin and ash blond hair and a jutting erection. He smiles wickedly down at me from all fours, like this is something he does every Friday. And maybe it is.
“You’re awfully good with those knots,” I point out.
He gives me a smirk. “I took a lot of sailing lessons as a kid. Preteen me had no idea how useful that would one day be.”
I let out a little yelp of laughter.
“You know what else would be fun?” he asks. “How do you feel about blindfolds?”
I blink up at him. “Um… I don’t know?” Honestly, it seems like a crime to be in the same room as Eric and not admire his naked body. “I wouldn’t mind trying it.”
He’s off the bed and rummaging in his suitcase a moment later. “My bow tie is really too short for this,” he says. “But I have something else that would work.” He holds up a necktie—red with a gold chain design across the silk.
“That’s Hermès,” I blurt out as he dangles it over my head.
“Yeah, and I can’t think of a better use for it,” he says, slipping it under my head and preparing to tie one more knot. The silk slides coolly across my skin, settling over my eyes, blocking out the sunlight and Eric’s beautiful face.
My world narrows to sensation—the whisper of fabric against my skin, the sound of his breathing, the weight of the mattress shifting as he moves.
Without sight, everything else becomes amplified.
The scent of his cologne mixed with the salt air from the open window.
The brush of his fingertips as he adjusts the tie, making sure it’s comfortable but secure.
“There,” he murmurs, and I feel his breath against my ear. “How’s that?”
“Different,” I admit, testing the silk with a small shake of my head. It stays put, soft but effective. “But comfortable enough.”
“Perfect.” His fingertips trail down my arm. “Because now I get to surprise you.”
“Okay.” Except he already has. Every minute of this weekend has been a surprise.
But this is something else entirely. I get goose bumps as his fingertips continue their journey down my arm to the place where the rope holds my wrist. I feel his gaze on me, even if I can’t see it.
“Breathe,” he whispers from very nearby. I exhale suddenly. “Good girl.”
But I hold my breath again as a kiss ghosts over my collarbone, so soft I almost think I imagined it. I wait, straining to guess what he’ll do next.
A kiss brushes the inside of my wrist, just above the rope. My breath catches, and I feel him smile against my skin before he pulls away again.
He turns it into a game—surprising me with each new point of contact. His lips find the arch of my foot, then my ankle. I gasp and then quiver with surprise. A firm hand settles on my calf, holding me still. The kiss that follows lands on my knee, gentle and warm.
He’s silent, though. Stealthy. And it’s a mind fuck—I’m hyperaware of every inch of my skin, waiting, wondering where he’ll touch me next. The anticipation is almost unbearable. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.
When his mouth finally presses against the sensitive skin just below my navel, I arch off the bed with a soft cry. He doesn’t linger—just one perfect, devastating kiss before he’s gone again, leaving me aching and desperate for more.
“Please,” I breathe, greedily.
No answer from him, though. Just a kiss to my inner thigh that makes my pussy clench, and then a gentle bite on my left breast, before he laves the spot with his tongue, soothing me.
I moan shamelessly.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as if telling me a secret. “I need to see more of you, okay?”
My nod is quick and sharp, and a half second later, he pulls off my bikini bottoms. “Oh yeah,” he whispers. “More, baby. Spread your legs.” Two urgent hands land on my thighs, and he guides my knees apart. “Fuck. So beautiful.”
It’s wild lying here in my private darkness, while he examines me in the afternoon daylight. Suddenly, it’s very hard to hold still. I feel his gaze like a laser, and my nipples harden in response.
I’m shameless. Yet a little bit helpless. I feel brazen and also vulnerable, but only up to a point, because Eric makes a somewhat helpless sound himself, before wetly kissing the juncture of my thighs. “Dying here,” he says, and I feel his breath against my core. “I have to taste you…”
I let out a hot breath.
“But I think I’ll wait.”
My groan is more frustration than not.
A soft chuckle. And then another series of those teasing kisses. Knee. Hip. Nipple. I feel myself flood with desire, and I have to arch my back, looking for relief. But all I get is a hot kiss to my armpit. Then a wet kiss to my neck that makes my nipples ache.
“You should have told me…” he whispers. “How hot we’d be. You should see me—hard like a fence post. Here, I’ll show you.” The mattress dips as he lowers his body over mine. And it’s almost overwhelming when I feel the hard length of him slide against my pussy.
I’m so wet, and we both groan. My arms flex against their restraints as I instinctively try to reach for him.
“Nope,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m not done making my point.” And at that, he sinks his hips against mine and lavishes my neck with more of his ravishing kisses. The weight of his body is a lot, but somehow not enough. I’m really shameless now—straining against him, looking for more friction.
He shuts that down immediately—lifting his hips and rising onto all fours, I think.
I’m trying to get my bearings when his mouth lands on mine, sweet and wild.
His tongue sliding against my own. The click of our teeth as I practically lunge for him.
The ache I feel for him is fierce and bright and all-consuming.
I want him in all the ways there are to want him. The craving is a million times worse than it ever was, though. Now that I know how it really feels to be on the receiving end of Eric Tremaine’s sexual tractor beam.
Our kisses go on and on. When he backs off, I let out a frustrated little sob.
“I know,” he says softly. “I’m in the same state. You want to see?”
“Yes,” I practically shout.
With a chuckle, he flicks the blindfold up and off my eyes.
I get a good look at him as he sits back on his haunches, gloriously naked and stroking his cock.
His chest is flushed, and so are his cheeks.
His eyes are dark with lust as he slowly fucks his own hand.
“This,” he says, with a grimace. “This is all your fault, Kendrick. I need…”
“What?”
He lets go of himself to slide a hand between my legs. “You sore from last night?” he asks. “Tell the truth.”
I can’t answer right away, because his fingers slide against me in a way that steals my breath. “J-just a little,” I practically whimper. “But it’s fine.”
He gives me a wicked smile. “You’re on the injured list, then. But only for one game.”
“But…”
He removes his hand, though, and I let out another little sob of dissatisfaction. Then? He uses his slicked-up fingers to grip himself. “Watch, honey. This is your punishment.” His fist flies down his length and then back up again.
“I could…” I try to speak, my eyes fixed on the outrageous sight of Eric pleasuring himself. “Give me…”
“No need,” he says with gritted teeth. “I just want… Can I make a mess on you?”
My whole body clenches with need. “Y-yes. Do it.”
Eric groans. The flush on his face darkens to something dangerous, and the hungry snarl on his face is fascinating to me. Then he smacks a hand down onto the sheet and growls as he comes all over my chest.
My whole body is on fire. The only sounds in the room are my rough swallow and his heavy breathing.
“You see?” he whispers, his gray eyes searching my face. “You get it now?”
I nod. Although the lessons I’m learning aren’t the ones he intends—like that he’s ruining me for other guys. And that sexy, accidental DMs are my new favorite thing.
He reaches up and tugs on one of the ropes, freeing one hand. Then, still breathing hard, he frees the other one. “Can’t have you losing circulation,” he says, gathering my wrists and kissing one before the other. “Now, where was I?”
I don’t answer, but he doesn’t need me to. He drops down onto his elbows, between my legs. He whispers against my slicked skin as he pleasures me. Yes. Honey. Fuck. So beautiful.
It doesn’t take long until I’m gripping his hair and moaning his name. Pleasure drowns me, and I don’t ever want to come up for air.