Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Kitten
Fox is gentle as he positions my body the way he wants, which is on my back.
It’s literally blind trust with the fabric tight over my eyes.
He tells me to put my hands over my head—this is the way I sleep, so it feels natural.
However, my false sense of security shatters when I hear him set something on the table.
Something thick wraps around my wrists, like wide band bracelets or …
cuffs. They tighten and a metal chain drags across the tabletop.
After a few quick snaps, my hands are bound to the table.
“Pull your hands apart.” I can’t—they’re connected.
“Now try to lift your arms off the table.” Again, no go.
“We’ll start off with your arms, then we’ll see if you can handle other parts being restrained.
” His fingers push a stray lock of hair off my face and then I feel the heat of his mouth on my cheek.
“If you’re a good girl, I’ll do your legs next. ”
I swallow the insane amount of saliva building in my mouth.
“Let’s go over safety. Green means you’re fine and you want more.
Yellow means you’re unsure and you need a little time.
Red means stop.” He traces the palm of my hand and it tickles.
“Sometimes words are hard, so a visual is helpful.” He closes my hand into a fist. “Closed hands means everything is fine. You tend to tense up your hands anyway when you’re close.
” He pries my fingers open and makes them flat “This means stop. One hand or two—it doesn’t matter. ”
He releases my hand, and I hear his fingers drag across the table. He pushes the cup of my corset below my breast, massages and kneads it, making my insides soften. “We’re going to practice, okay? Hands closed if you are good, open if you want it to stop.”
He tweaks my nipples, and a zing of pleasure hits me.
My hands stay closed. His warm tongue slides over the tender skin, rolling and teasing it, until he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking.
God his mouth feels intoxicating, even better because I know he’s fighting against his own rules every time he touches me.
The pain starts to rise, but it’s still fine. He releases with a pop and goes back to his fingers. I grip the chains. The area is sensitive and it’s getting angry at me. Hell, I’m getting angry at him. What’s the point in tormenting my left nipple? What has it ever done to him?
Then he pinches it, and I yelp. It makes him pinch harder and twist. Beads of sweat start to form, and this isn’t fun anymore. No—I don’t like it. He twists it back and forth and the pain is unbearable. I fight against the tension and open my hands, and instantly, he stops.
“Very good,” he says in a soft, cooing tone. “Now I know some of your limits, and you know how to tell me if things are too rough.” He moves toward my head and cups my neck, lifting me off the table. “And I will do everything in my power to make sure you never open your hand again.”
My shoulders tighten, but he presses his lips to mine, his tongue exploring my mouth.
His kisses are like drugs—each dose leaves me craving so much more.
I can’t keep track of time, only the different ways he touches my body—soft, sweet caresses, long strokes down my thighs with just the right amount of pressure.
Every moan I make results in another part of my body being worshiped.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says in a low, breathy voice.
He pays careful attention to every inch of me, except where I crave it the most. My pussy pulses, my clit throbs.
I need more. My lower half starts to squirm, so I flex my thigh muscles, trying to relieve any tension.
He chuckles and moves something under the table before pulling my legs to the edge and spreading them in a backwards Y.
He ties straps that wrap around my thighs and my ankles.
I feel secure, but my ass is off the edge of the table and I’m completely vulnerable.
Gloved fingers brush the inside of both my legs and I feel his body against my thighs.
His finger slides up my center and I jump, but the restraints keep me still. “You were wet before, Kitten, but now?” I gasp as his fingers slide inside me in a slow, rhythmic pumping. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I’ll keep fingering you until you come. Could you do that? Come on my hand without touching your swollen clit?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
He moves his fingers in and out, his left hand resting on my stomach. Still, he moves slowly, stretching me, making sure I feel every inch of him. “Look at you—tits out, tied down, blindfolded, your legs open for me to do whatever I want. How do you feel?”
The first word that comes to mind: “Slutty.”
He tsks. “Now we need to explore that. Are you sure that’s the word you want to use?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” He moves his fingers faster. “I’ve never done this before.” The words become harder to form with every passing second.
His thumb brushes against my clit and I jump. “You’re fooling me—you’re fucking perfect at this.” He lets out a low groan. “You’re making me so hard right now.”
“Really?” My voice squeaks.
“Why don’t you believe me?” He slides another finger in and the pressure is heavenly.
“I can’t tell if you like this or if it’s a show. You tell me I’m beautiful.” I think about the ways he’s touched me, how he called me precious. “No one has ever shown me this much attention before.”
“And that makes you feel slutty?”
“It makes me feel desired, but …” I trail off.
“But what?”
I shake my head and he rubs my clit in a slow circle to match the pace of his fingers. “You have your boundaries and I’m not going to ask you to cross them.”
He huffs. “I appreciate the concern, but you’re so tempting, I’ve broken several already.” His thumb works faster and his fingers pick up the pace.
The pressure builds in my core. My breathing shortens as heat sizzles through my body.
“But I don’t know if I’m desirable.” Alana said he was an actor. He doesn’t do this for a living. I don’t know if this is real.
Suddenly, he presses himself against me, his pants adding a frustrating layer between my body and his hardened cock.
His fingers continue to work me, and as the pleasure blooms, I realize it's true, he wants me. “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.
” His fingers move more frantically and his cock rubs against my thigh.
“And here you are, living out every fantasy like the good girl I know you are.”
The pleasure explodes as waves hit my body. My back arches, pulling against the restraints, but there’s no relief—I have to ride out this pleasure wave for as long as it lasts.
I’m panting and blood pounds in my ears.
A thin sheen of sweat beads on my breasts.
“You came on my hand.” His zipper is the loudest sound in the room.
He moans and breathes deep. “Your cum is fucking amazing on my cock.” I hear him fisting himself and he grunts.
“I need more.” His self-inflicted rules are breaking tonight, and it makes me want to see how far this will take him.
His mouth latches onto my clit and sucks while one hand pleasures himself.
The other returns to my pussy. This time, as he moves his fingers, everything feels heightened.
I can’t tell how he’s doing it, but he’s massaging my G-spot and sucking on my clit while flicking his tongue.
But I focus on the sound of his hand pumping, and every time he groans, it vibrates more.
He’s everywhere, total and inescapable—and he wants me. I’ve never felt so desired in my life. It’s perfect.
But then it builds too much, and I can’t contain it.
I start calling his name faster as the pressure mounts like a force of nature.
The sensation travels through my breasts, nipples, down my throat, and across my back until there’s a rush of hot wetness.
It’s so much. It's an orgasm unlike any I've ever had before.
Oh my God. What have I done? “I’m sorry.”
But he’s busy lapping in a long, sweeping motion. He stops jerking himself off and lifts his mouth away.
“You squirted.”
“Huh?”
Waves of embarrassment and exhaustion hit me.
“That’s the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says in a hushed tone. “I’ve never—” He moans and growls. “Say you want me to fuck you.”
Every neuron snaps at once. “Yes. Fox—I need you to fuck me.”
The opening of a drawer, a tear of paper, and then I gasp when there’s a thick intrusion in my pussy. He fills me completely, his balls brush against my ass cheeks. Each motion hard and precise. He grunts and whispers fuck, before pushing faster and more frantic. “Dammit, you feel so amazing.”
“So do you,” I say between breaths. After all our encounters, he’s finally taking pleasure for himself. I broke him and I’m the one giving him every physical reward he deserves.
His hands latch onto my breasts and squeeze. They were aching for attention, and I couldn’t give it to myself. Then his hand leaves my breast and rests on my cheek. I kiss his gloved fingers, running my tongue over them.
“Taste yourself,” he says. He presses his fingers into my mouth, and I suck hard enough that I hope he can feel me through the leather.
He groans and cries out in an almost primal yell, his body quakes, and his legs shake against my thighs. At last, he collapses over me, his head on my chest as we both catch our breath.
“Jesus Christ, Kitten.” He says through pants and gritted teeth, “What have you done to me?”