Chapter 12
TWELVE
Paxton
Hartford lying on her bed, surrounded by flickering candlelight, in nothing but her bra and panties—yeah, I’m fucked.
How am I supposed to push down these feelings when she looks like a goddess waiting for me to touch her body?
The black bra she’s wearing is a total tease, with lace stopping just before her hard nipples.
The stiff peaks poke through the silk covering them, and my dick is rock hard from just looking at her. Imagining what’s underneath.
The matching boy shorts she’s wearing are a damn wet dream. They’re low cut, making me want to trace the line with my fingers. I’m certain if I dipped my fingers inside, she’d be wet.
Wet for me.
I blow out a ragged breath, trying to get myself under control.
My heart’s nearly beating out of my chest. I’ve become a madman, my body amping up to conquer and claim.
I need to remember that her arousal is a result of the situation, not me.
It’s a blow to my ego, but it’s something I need to keep reminding myself if I’m going to survive this.
Deep breaths.
“Grab the handcuffs,” she whispers, avoiding eye contact.
As if she doesn’t look sexy enough, now I need to handcuff her to the headboard. She’ll be at my mercy. That erotic thought has me adjusting my hard dick as I move away from her and snag the handcuffs off the dresser.
I hold them up and grin. “Pink wasn’t enough, so you had to get fuzzy, too?”
She gives me a saucy smile. “I’m wearing them, not you. If you wanna switch places, I’ll get metal ones.”
For a moment, I fantasize about Hartford handcuffing me to her bed and taking full advantage of the situation.
“Paxton?”
I snap out of my illicit thoughts. “You’re right, these are perfect.” One knee hits the bed, dipping it slightly, and she turns her head to look at me. “Arms back,” I command.
She does as I say, and I click the first cuff around her small wrist, securing it to the wrought-iron headboard. I move around the bed and do the same to the other side, shaking the cuffs to make sure she is fastened securely.
She pulls at the cuffs and looks at me with wide eyes. I don’t know if it’s panic or if she realizes she likes this. Either way, I’ve never been more turned on in my life.
Regret is something I don’t want to live with, so instead of telling her how I feel, I’m going to take full advantage of this situation.
I will not look back and regret not touching her while I had the chance.
I will think back to the time I had Hartford handcuffed to her bed and touched her.
Made her feel things that I may never again make her feel.
Was able to soak in her beauty, her scent, her sounds.
I won’t allow myself to regret burying my feelings because I’m going to live in these moments.
The moments of passion, sexual desire, and need.
My eyes lift to hers, heavy with arousal. “I’m going to start at your ankles and work my way up.” I pick up the feather and run it through my fingers. “Ready?”
She nods, biting her bottom lip as she looks at me.
I touch the feather to her skin and she shivers.
My heart races as I drag the feather up her leg, hitting her inner thigh.
She lets out a sigh as I graze it across her covered pussy and down the other leg.
My cock presses against the zipper of my jeans as I move it back up her leg and brush the feather over her panty-clad clit.
Her hips lift slightly and I want to ditch the feather and replace it with my fingers. Or my tongue.
“Fuck, Hart, you’re making it hard.”
My dick, the situation—take your pick.
I stroke the feather back and forth over her exposed stomach, and her silky skin erupts in goosebumps from the delicate touch.
“You like this, don’t you?” I ask, gliding the feather up toward her tits.
Her eyes lock with mine, and the heat in them forces me to suppress a growl. It’s erotic as hell. “Yes.”
I move the feather, brushing along the bottom of her tits, and she lets out a soft moan, pulling against the handcuffs. “What do you want me to touch, Hartford?”
Am I pushing it? Maybe. Do I care? Hell no. I’m ready to rip the thin fabric and use my lips to make her squirm.
“I…um…I don’t know,” she whispers.
I trail the feather over her hard nipples, and she lifts her hips off the bed. It’s a powerful feeling, so I do it again and again, evoking a loud moan from her.
“You should see how fucking sexy you look right now.” I move the feather along each arm. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
Her half-closed eyes soften as she looks at me, a small blush creeping up her neck. “I do?”
I drag the feather up her neck, tracing the blush. She flinches, pulling against her restraints again, but never breaks eye contact with me.
“Yes, you have no idea what you’re capable of doing to someone. You could bring a man to his knees with a simple look, Hart.”
“Even you?”
I move closer to her lips, too close, and search her eyes. “Especially me.”
My heart races in my chest as I hear her quick, shallow breaths, causing her chest to rise rapidly. Her hard nipples graze my chest, and I might explode.
I brush the feather against her throat, up her jawline, across her lips. She swallows hard and squirms, shifting her legs, probably trying to ease the ache between them. If she’s half as turned on as I am, she’s dripping wet.
“Oh god, Paxton.”
“I know.”
“No, wait.” There’s clear panic in her voice, so I move away from her and search her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think because I can’t use my hands, I’m suddenly extremely itchy.”
I glance down at her body and my eyes widen. That’s when I realize she wasn’t squeezing her legs together. She was trying to scratch herself. “Oh fuck, Hart.”
“What?” She lifts her head and sees the small red bumps covering her body. “Oh my god.”
“Are you allergic to feathers?”
Her eyes snap to mine and narrow. “I think I might be. Get these cuffs off, Paxton. Stop looking at it and free my hands,” she squeals out, her body twisting and turning, trying to break free.
“Fuck.” I snatch the key off the dresser and quickly unlock the handcuffs, setting her free.
She scratches various spots on her body. “Oh God, this itches so bad.” She lifts her eyes to me and the heat is long gone, replaced by fear. “What the hell do I do?”
“Do you have Cortisone cream?”
“Yes, in the bathroom. Top drawer.”
“Really? You just have it?”
She lets out a frustrated groan and narrows her eyes at me. “I bought it when you touched poison ivy last year. Who the fuck cares why I have it? Get it.”
I rush out of the bedroom and grab the cream from the bathroom. When I return, she’s still scratching herself.
“Stop, Hart. You’re going to make it worse.” I open the cream and squirt a little on my fingers. “I’m going to put this on your arms, but you can do the rest of your body.”
She nods her head. “Fine, just hurry, please.”
I rub the cream on her arms and she takes the tube from me and applies it to the rest of her body. Together we make sure to cover every bit of her rash.
When she’s all creamed up, I carry her into the living room and set her onto the couch, after lying a towel down.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” I ask her.
“My robe in the bathroom, please.”
I grab her robe, help her into it, and then I head into the kitchen to make her a cup of tea. Hartford loves her chamomile tea at night time. As the water warms, I look through her cabinets for some Benadryl. Once I spot some, I open the bottle and pull out two tablets.
“Do you like one sugar or two in your tea, Hart?” I call out to the living room.
“Honey.”
I prepare her tea, and head into the living room with the tea and Benadryl in my hands. “Here,” I say, handing her the things as I nestle down next to her.
She takes the pills, and holds her mug of tea close. “Every time we do something, it ends in disaster.”
“It’s not a disaster, Hart. It just didn’t go as planned.”
“It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to finish this assignment.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulder. “The universe has bigger things to worry about than just you and me. I don’t know what it is, but we’ll figure it out. We’ll get this article done. Don’t worry.”
Is the universe really working against us?