Chapter 28
Liv
The click of the metal is louder than my heartbeat, or maybe it just drowns it out. I’m standing at the edge of my bed. My bedroom and my apartment as a whole, my sanctuary, feel both too big and too small with him in it right now.
“You're sure about this?” he asks for the fifth time, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my spine. His eyes, usually sharp and analytical, are soft on me, waiting.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’ve never let anyone… tie me up. But I trust you, Alex.” I lift my gaze to his, letting him see the raw, trembling vulnerability I usually keep locked away. “I want to.”
He takes another step towards me, closing the distance between us. He pulls the cuffs from the pocket of his pants on the floor, and my breath immediately hitches.
He sees it. Of course, he sees it. He stops, holding the cuffs loosely. “Liv. Look at me.”
I force my eyes to meet his. “I'm looking.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he says, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “This is me. This is us. Your safe word is 'scalpel'. Say it, and this ends. No questions, no disappointment. They come off immediately.”
“Scalpel,” I repeat, showing him that I understand his directions.
“Good,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. His fingers linger against my cheek, warm and gentle. “Now turn around. Hands behind your back.”
My movements feel slow, deliberate as I follow his instructions.
The floorboards creak beneath my feet as I turn, presenting my back to him.
My wrists tremble slightly as I bring them together behind me.
The cool metal of the handcuffs contrasts with the heat of his skin as he secures them around my wrists.
They're not too tight, just enough to remind me of their presence with every subtle movement.
“You okay?” he asks, his lips close to my ear, his breath warm against my neck.
I nod again, words escaping me for a moment. “Better than okay,” I finally manage, leaning back slightly into his touch.
His hands slide down my arms, over my shoulders, tracing the line of my spine. I shiver despite the warmth in the room. Every nerve ending feels alive, hyperaware of his touch, his proximity, and the sound of his breathing.
“I've imagined this,” he admits, his voice dropping to that low register that makes my stomach clench. “You, like this. Trusting me completely.”
“Alex,” I breathe, testing the cuffs lightly. They hold firm, a secure weight against my wrists. “What are you going to do to me?”
His laugh is soft but dark. “Everything you want me to. Everything you've been too afraid to ask for.”
He keeps me tight against him beside the bed, turning me to face him. His eyes roam over me, taking in every detail. I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with my state of undress. He's seeing parts of me I've kept hidden from everyone, including myself.
“You're beautiful like this,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “So open, so willing.”
I arch toward him, seeking his touch. “Please, Alex.”
He doesn't make me wait. His mouth covers mine, and I melt into the kiss.
It's hungry and demanding, yet somehow still gentle.
His tongue explores my mouth, claiming and tasting.
I moan against his lips, my body responding instantly to his touch.
My nipples pebble with each brush of his skin against mine, and a familiar ache builds between my thighs.
His hands slide down my sides, tracing my curves before settling on my hips. He pulls me flush against him, and I can feel his hardness pressing against me. The realization that I affect him this much, that he wants me as desperately as I want him, is intoxicating.
“Bed,” he commands against my mouth, guiding me backward until my legs hit the mattress.
I sit down heavily, looking up at him. He stands over me, a predator assessing his prey. But there's no fear in me, only anticipation.
I've never been particularly self-conscious about my body, but under his scrutiny, I feel like a masterpiece being unveiled.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my collarbone. “Absolutely perfect.”
He lowers himself to his knees, his hands braced on my thighs.
The position puts him at eye level with my breasts, and he doesn't hesitate to take advantage.
His mouth closes over one peaked nipple, and I gasp at the sensation.
His teeth graze the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
“Alex,” I moan, arching into his touch. “God, don't stop.”
He chuckles against my skin, the vibration adding another layer of sensation. “I have no intention of stopping.”
The wet heat of his tongue against my nipple is almost too much, and I squirm beneath him, seeking more.
His other hand moves between my legs, pressing against the dampness between my legs. I'm already so wet, so ready for him. He circles my clit, teasing rather than satisfying. I rock my hips, trying to increase the friction, but he pulls back slightly, denying me.
“Patience,” he murmurs, lifting his head to look at me. “Good things come to those who wait.”
“I've waited long enough,” I retort, my voice breathy. “Please, Alex. I need...”
“I know what you need,” he says. “But I want you to beg for it first.”
The words shock me, but I find myself considering it.
Begging has never been in my nature. I'm the one who takes charge, who gets things done.
But here, now, with my hands cuffed behind my back and Alex looking at me like I'm his greatest treasure, I find I want to give him this. I want to give him everything.
“Please,” I whisper, the word feeling foreign and yet right. “Please, Alex. Touch me.”
“Touch you where?” he prompts, his fingers still circling my clit.
“Everywhere,” I breathe. “I want your hands on me, your mouth, your... everything.”
He rewards me with a slow smile, clearly pleased with my surrender. “That's my girl.”
He spreads my thighs, his gaze appreciating what he sees. I feel exposed and vulnerable, but somehow more powerful than I've ever felt.
“You're so wet for me,” he observes, his voice low and rough. “So ready.”
He leans in, and I expect his mouth, but instead, his fingers part my folds, finding my clit with unerring accuracy. I gasp as he circles the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure. My hips buck off the bed, seeking more, but he maintains his maddeningly slow pace.
“Alex,” I pant, “please. I need more.”
“More what?” he asks, though I know he knows exactly what I mean.
“Your mouth,” I manage. “I want your mouth on me.”
He doesn't need further encouragement. He lowers his head, his tongue replacing his fingers. The first touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure through my body. He explores me thoroughly, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me moan, and what makes me cry out his name.
I'm completely lost to sensation, my world narrowing to the pleasure he's giving me. The cuffs on my wrists are a constant reminder of my submission; of the trust I've placed in him. Every flick of his tongue, every suction, and every nibble pushes me higher, closer to the edge.
“Alex,” I gasp, “I'm close.”
He responds by intensifying his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his fingers joining in, pressing inside me.
The dual sensation is overwhelming, and I spiral into orgasm with a cry that's half his name and half a sob.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, leaving me breathless and trembling.
He doesn't stop immediately, drawing out my pleasure until I'm writhing beneath him, oversensitive and desperate. Finally, he lifts his head, his face glistening with my arousal. He looks smug, satisfied, and utterly gorgeous.
“You're beautiful when you come,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “I could watch that all day.”
I'm still recovering, my body humming with aftershocks, but I want more. I want him. “Alex,” I manage, “your turn.”
He laughs, moving to lie beside me on the bed. “Oh, Liv. You say that like I didn’t enjoy that too.”
He captures my mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, letting me taste myself on his lips. I respond eagerly, my body already gearing up for another round. His hands roam over me, reacquainting themselves with every curve and every dip.
“Roll over,” he commands against my lips.
I hesitate for only a moment before complying, maneuvering awkwardly with my hands still cuffed behind me. I end up on my stomach, my face turned toward him on the pillow. This position leaves me completely exposed, vulnerable in a way that should frighten me but instead excites me.
His hands knead my ass, his fingers dipping between my cheeks to tease my most sensitive spots. I arch into his touch, silently begging for more. He obliges, one finger circling my entrance, applying gentle pressure.
“Here?” he asks, his voice low.
I nod my head against the pillow. “Fuck yes.”
“Great choice of words,” he quips, his finger still teasing.
The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating. “Smart ass,” I say, the words muffled by the pillow but clear enough.
He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated need. “Liv. You have no idea what that does to me.”
He shifts, and I hear the nightstand drawer open, the crinkle of a foil packet.
The sound is so mundane and so normal, that I almost don’t think.
I feel the bed dip as he moves, positioning himself between my spread legs.
His hands grip my hips, pulling me up slightly so I'm resting on my knees, my face still pressed to the mattress.
“I'm going to make you feel so good,” he promises, his voice a low growl. “I'm going to make you forget everything but my name.”
I don't doubt it for a second.
He enters me in one slow, deliberate stroke. The stretch is exquisite, a perfect, full pressure that makes me gasp. He pauses, giving me a moment to adjust, to feel every inch of him inside me. I'm so wet and so ready, that he slid in effortlessly.
“Move,” I demand, my voice hoarse. “Alex, please, move.”
He does. He pulls out almost completely before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm that's both punishing and pleasurable.
Each stroke hits that perfect spot deep inside me, sending sparks of pleasure through my entire body.
The cuffs at my wrists bite into my skin with every movement, a constant, thrilling reminder of my surrender.
His hands are everywhere, on my hips, my back, and tangling in my hair. He leans over me, his chest covering my back, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. He bites down gently, and I cry out, the sensation shooting straight to my clit.
“You like that?” he murmurs against my skin. “You like it when I mark you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts. “God, yes.”
His pace quickens, becoming more demanding, more primal.
The sound of our bodies meeting fills the room.
The slap of skin, my desperate moans, and his harsh breaths reverberating off the walls.
It's raw, it's messy, and it's perfect. I can feel another orgasm building, different this time, deeper, more intense.
“Alex,” I pant, “I'm... I'm close again.”
“Good,” he grunts, his rhythm becoming erratic. “Come with me, Liv. Let go. I've got you.”
His words are my undoing. The last thread of control snaps, and I'm falling, spiraling into a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
My inner muscles clench around him, milking him as I cry out his name.
He follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips jerking as he finds his own release.
We collapse together, a tangle of limbs, sweat, and satisfaction. He's heavy on top of me, but I don't mind. I like his weight, the solid reality of him pinning me to the bed. For a long moment, we just breathe, the only sound in the room is our ragged attempts to catch our breath.
Finally, he pushes up, his softening length slipping from me. I mourn the loss and the sudden emptiness. He presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder before moving off the bed. I hear him move around the room, then the click of the cuffs unlocking.
My wrists are free, and the sudden freedom back to my hands is a relief. I roll onto my back, stretching my arms over my head. My muscles protest, a delicious ache that reminds me of everything we've just done.
Alex returns with a warm, damp cloth, gently cleaning me. The tenderness of the gesture is almost overwhelming. This is the side of him he keeps hidden from the world; the side he's sharing only with me.
“Okay?” he asks, his voice soft as he settles beside me, pulling the covers over us both.
I snuggle into his side, my head on his chest. “Better than okay,” I echo my earlier words, but this time they mean so much more. “That was... incredible.”
He chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath my ear. “Incredible doesn't even begin to cover it.”
I trace patterns on his skin, my fingers exploring the hard planes of his chest, the dusting of hair that narrows to a line leading down. “I never knew,” I admit quietly. “I never knew it could be like that.”
“Like what?” he prompts, his fingers stroking my hair.
“So... intense. So freeing.” I struggle to find the right words. “I'm always in control, you know? At work, in my life... everywhere. But with you... with you, I don't have to be. I can just... be.”
His arm tightens around me. “You don't have to be pushed to be in control with me, Liv. Ever. You can just let go. I'll catch you.”
He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, open, vulnerable in a way I've never seen before. He pulls us closer, pressing his lips to mine. This kiss is different from before, gentler and tender.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless for an entirely different reason. “Stay,” I say, the word barely a whisper. “Stay the night.”