22. Storm
I step closer before I can overthink it. Before I come to my senses, consider all the ways this could go very wrong. Someone walking in being one of them . . .
Even with the door closed, there’s enough light in here to see—and anticipate—everything.
I step around him, feeling the bands. They’re cool and smooth beneath my fingers, solid but flexible, giving just enough when I test them.
I turn back to him, pulse skidding as I hold out one wrist.
He steps close, his blue eyes holding mine as he takes my left hand. The touch careful as he guides me closer to the post, the band sliding around my hand with ease. Not tight. Just enough resistance to make me aware of it. He does the same to the other—glancing at me between each step.
“You good?”
I nod, sucking in a breath.
He tests my balance, my movement. It’s all so slow. So deliberate. The sensation of being held here—mixed with his silence—sends a shiver straight through me, heat blooming low and insistent.
I exhale and his hands cover my jaw. “Still good?”
“Yes,” I breathe, the word coming out fast and urgent.
He gives the bands one last check, then steps back just enough to let me feel it fully. The restriction. The anticipation. I wait for the feeling of being exposed. Vulnerable. But it doesn’t come. It’s all heat, and heavens . . . eagerness.
And the way he’s watching me now—like he knows exactly what this is doing to me—might be the most dangerous part of all. “If you don’t do something soon, hotshot, you might just prove my point,” I breathe, hating how desperate I sound.
With a smirk, he moves around the back, leaving me facing an empty space, the barn door with broad daylight shining through the slats. Reminding me anyone can walk in and find me like this.
Silas places his hands on my hips from behind. His breath on my neck. “You like watching me sweat, Bee?”
My breathing picks up and I tug on the bands. “It would seem to be the other way around right now, hotshot.”
He tugs on my suede skirt, slow. “I don’t want to watch you sweat, Storm.” He sweeps his lips over my ear. “I want to watch you come—hard. Then I want to taste it, feel you rock against me like we both know you can.”
I shiver.
He lifts my skirt from the hem, but doesn’t bring it over my ass. His fingers graze the bare skin behind my thighs.
“Silas,” I beg.
“You know what I need, Storm.” It takes me a moment before I realize what he’s waiting for.
“Yes. Please.”
He lifts it all the way above my ass, hissing when he finds my lace thong. The one soaked through so much it’s absolutely useless.
“Tell me again about the sting you felt the other night, Bee.”
I gulp.
“Was it anything like this one?” A sharp slap hits my ass, releasing a breathy cry.
“Is that a yes?”
I breathe hard. “No. It was harder than that.”
A tighter slap, same spot.
“Yes,” I cry louder and rock my hips.
He curses behind me and cups me around my soaked panties, hissing like the jerk’s surprised.
“Silas,” I beg again.
He rubs circles from behind, pressing against my clit. “God, Silas.” I yank on the bands.
He stops suddenly. “What is it? You want me to stop? Is there a toy you have in mind to help things along the way?”
“At this point, anything will,” I breathe.
“Is that so?” He strips my panties, pulling them down over my boots, then slipping them in his pocket, before going over to the sink to wash his hands.
I keep myself from squirming as he heads back my way and lifts my skirt again, dropping to his knees in front of me. With his good hand on my thigh, he looks up at me—before lunging two fingers inside me.
Gah. My upper body springs forward but the bands pull me back. He curses appreciatively before quickly replacing his fingers with his mouth. His tongue slides against my folds and I barely suppress a groan. I feel him smile against me, teasing me, playing with me like it’s his new addiction.
Finding my clit expertly, he sucks me into his mouth, gripping my ass with both hands, holding me still while my hands itch to dig into his hair.
“More,” slips out of my mouth in a whisper as my head falls back. The post and beam he used dangerously close to tumbling with every tug.
He fucks me with his tongue, strong and urgent, welcoming my hips as they rock against him. My moans are out of control, my breath hitching when his thumb rubs circles along my clit.
“Christ you’re perfect,” he mutters before smothering himself in my pussy again and it’s all it takes.
My knees weaken and I cry out, coming hard against his mouth, screaming his name. “Silas, God.” I swing against him, feeling like I’m floating in space, but tethered to his mouth, as he drags out my orgasm.
It’s the most erotic sight.
Unfairly interrupted by the sound of a . . . tractor? It’s distant, but a hard reminder of where we are.
“Silas.”
He stands and kisses me, letting me taste myself on his lips.
“You’re so goddamn sexy.” He searches my eyes.
“It’s a shame you don’t trust me, Bee. Because I haven’t had enough of you to stop here.
And I’m not sure you want to either.” Another soft kiss before he unhooks the bands from the post and beam and rubs my wrists gently, keeping his eyes on them.
And it’s almost like this is the part where he’s supposed to walk away but doesn’t know how to.
“I’m going to give you space. But I need you to know it’s not because I’ve had my taste of you and I’m done—not by a long shot. I care about you and Max. I’m not going to hurt you—” He swallows and steps back. “But I also won’t keep pushing if you’re waiting for me to prove you right.”
Something in my chest caves in. Trusting he won’t leave us is one thing, but finding out my secret . . . “Silas, you don’t understand. There’s a giant step back we need to take before—”
“Then you go ahead and take it.” Another step back. “But you’re not the only one protecting their heart.”