Chapter 7 #2
My begging works. Nostrils flared, forearms flexed, he unbuckles his belt and drags it slowly through the loops, never taking his hungry eyes off me.
When he closes the distance between us in a single stride and his hard body comes up against mine, a desperate sound trips out of my mouth.
I’m a foot off the ground, making our heights even, and he presses his forehead to mine now, his breath hot on my mouth while he reaches up and winds the leather belt around my wrists, fastening them to the metal bar.
My panties are already sodden, simply by witnessing his behemoth arousal.
I can taste his mint breath, smell his adrenaline-fueled sweat.
“I don’t want to have sex,” I whisper against his lips. “Anything else…”
“You think I would take your virginity like this, angel?” Squeezing his eyes closed, he rolls our foreheads together. “Never. I just…”
“I know what you want,” I say tremulously, testing the bonds. Tight. They’re tight.
Holding me fast, keeping me dangling above the ground, the tips of my toes barely able to scrape the surface of the sand. Excitement trickles into my blood when he steps back, watching me writhe midair, appearing almost in disbelief over what he’s done.
“Let me go,” I gasp.
Conflict slashes across his face. “I can’t tell if you’re serious. We need…a word. If you really want to come down, say ‘mussels.’ Okay, angel?”
I’m amazed to find how secure and happy that verbal trapdoor makes me feel.
I smile at him to let him know I appreciate his thoughtfulness.
“Okay.”
He nods and eases forward, his palms dragging upward along the curve of my hips, his gaze hooded and fixed on my breasts.
“This dress is such a dick tease, Vida. Turned my balls to fucking lead the second I saw those little thong lines through the material.” He hooks a finger in the yellow neckline of my strapless dress and tugs slowly downward, my wrists twisting in the leather manacles when he keeps going, going until my bare breasts are revealed to his eyes.
“Oh my God. They’re so fucking perky. Jesus Christ.”
“Stop,” I demand, my toes struggling for purchase in the sand, but I’m too high up to gain any footing or leverage.
All I succeed in doing is twisting in the air—but that weightlessness makes my tummy feel funny.
Like that bottomed-out feeling when a roller coaster takes a steep drop.
But there’s no bottoming out. The tickle just lasts and lasts and builds. “Let me down!”
Tripp traps a moan in his throat, his eyes closing, as if he’s overwhelmed by his own fantasy. But when his lids lift again, his gaze is glazed. Lust drunk. He reaches out and grips my jaw, holding me steady. “I’ll let you go when I’m ready.”
It’s not a challenge for me to look scared.
Because I am scared of what’s happening to my body.
At how being tethered and at his mercy makes me feel…sexual for the first time in my life.
And when Tripp continues to peel the yellow dress down my body and I whimper, yanking on the knotted belt, a tide begins to rise inside me. Like a wave of heat busting up against the barrier of a dam. Needing to get to the other side.
“Oh, fuck me, look at that tight-ass body,” he rasps, my dress slipping off my feet now, down into the sand, leaving me dangling from the lifeguard tower in a simple white thong.
“It’s not fair,” Tripp breathes, raking the tips of his fingers down the front of my body.
Over my peaked nipples and lower, down my bare stomach, playing with the waistband of my thong with a single index finger and making me shudder hotly.
“It’s not fair that the softer and sweeter the body, the rougher a man wants to be.
” He makes a sound in his throat. “You’d make a man want to be the roughest of all.
You make…me want to be so fucking rough. ”
“No,” I sob, jerking in the restraint. “No, please. Let me go.”
Don’t let me go.
He heaves an unsteady exhale and unzips his pants, his huge hand disappearing into the opening, his head falling back on a husky groan, that sinew of his forearm rippling as his fist moves inside his khakis. “Oh God. Oh God.”
I struggle harder, swinging my legs, the leather groaning overhead. “Stop! What are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing. You made me do this. Made me so fucking hard.”
Before I can respond, Tripp is yanking my dangling body up against him with a growl, ripping the thong down my thighs with his left hand, letting it fall into the sand.
I’m completely naked now, and he palms my backside in a grip that is somehow raunchy and reverent at the same time.
Stroking. Manhandling. His eyes are bright, communicating a state that is beyond arousal, and I bury myself in them while he slaps my ass.
And I love the way it feels. The reverberation.
The sharp daggers of lust unleashed by the cracks of his palm.
My neck has loosened, my head lolling. My ears buzz with sound.
I’m trapped by the belt. I’m trapped by the race my body is running to an unknown finish line—and I almost reach that elusive point when Tripp finishes spanking me, then wedges his hips between my thighs, yanking them up around his waist.
“I should fuck you like a rag doll,” he says, mashing his teeth up against my mouth. “Shouldn’t I, you little virgin sacrifice?”
Alarmingly, perhaps, my brain screams yes.
“No,” I choke out. “No!”
He looks me in the eye and…I feel it.
He’s rubbing his erection through my flesh, the sound of my wetness harmonizing with the crash of ocean waves.
“You’d be so tight,” he says, licking the side of my face, chin to temple. “But I’d still nut so deep it would be disrespectful, huh?”
That smooth, bulbous tip slips over a spot at the top of my slit, and I cry out, every cell in my body going on high alert.
Oh.
He loves that, too.
Seeing my pleasure.
Seeing me struggle.
The contradiction of him sucks me down like a swirling eddy, and suddenly, we’re kissing. We’re kissing while he massages that sensitive place between my legs with the tip of his erection, moving that fleshy crown in tight circles, my excessive wetness making the friction so slippery. So hot.
“Yeah, I should fuck you, but I won’t…” He exhales jaggedly against my mouth. “I won’t, because you’re such a sweet angel, aren’t you? You’re my fucking angel.”
“Yes,” I gasp.
His expression is tortured as he presses his forehead against mine, his breathing coming in giant pants. “I want to give you an orgasm as much as I want to…do bad things.”
“I know,” I whisper, kissing him, opening my thighs wider to feel his strokes deeper.
Deeper.
Right on the verge of being inside me. Stopping just short.
“Say the word. Don’t let me do bad things,” he begs against my mouth. “If I fucked you right now, I’d rip you to pieces.”
A light blinds me.
It comes from my mind. A part of my mind that’s connected to my body. I’ve hit some kind of feverish peak, and I convulse with the intensity, my sex drawing in on itself so aggressively I scream.
If I fucked you right now, I’d rip you to pieces.
Sensual teeth rake through my nervous system, and I tremble from the onslaught, my jaw clenching on a call of his name, my muscles shaking, and oh God, oh God, the damp ribbon that flows from me in degrees matches the spasms of my flesh in a high I didn’t know existed.
Tripp falls to his knees in front of me and licks at my release with panting grunts, moaning in appreciation of the taste, his hand riding up and down a shaft I can see for the first time is enormous.
My intuition tells me to struggle against my restraints…
…and I do.
I yank hard and beg to be let go. And Tripp leans back on his ankles and watches me writhe and attempt to free myself, his fist tightening on the trunk of flesh, up and down, faster and faster, sweat dripping down the sides of his face.
He watches me yank and twist in awe from his kneeling position in the sand, a groan rocking him, putting him in a state of visible agony, until finally ropes of white spend belt out of him, landing in stripes along the sand.
“Oh God. Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” He doubles over onto his hands and knees and continues to abuse himself, his back heaving up and down, rippling beneath his shirt. “Oh my God, Vida. I can’t stop coming. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s so good. It’s so good.”
After what feels like a full minute, Tripp’s hand stops moving between his legs, and he struggles to his feet, looking sated and dazed, zipping himself up hastily.
Panic and concern transform an expression that was so fierce only moments earlier, and he lurches for me, his hands unsteady as he works on releasing my wrists from the knotted belt.
“Are you okay, angel?” He plants kisses on my face. “Vida. Angel. Talk to me.”
“I’m fine. I feel…” I drop down into his waiting embrace, my half-asleep arms dropping like stones, my body limp. “I feel so relaxed,” I finish on a yawn.
He holds me tight, studying my face with nothing short of amazement. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”
“It was for me, too,” I whisper, feeling kind of shy.
What have I discovered about myself tonight?
Do I like to roleplay? Am I…his perfect counterpoint? What is this called?
“I loved it,” I breathe, reaching up to play with his hair.
But he catches my wrist before I can touch him, going pale when he sees the red, angry ring left behind from the belt. “No. No, Vida.” Misery laces his tone. “Look what I did to you.”
I’m not sure where I get the boldness to say, “But you know I loved it.” I trace my lips along his collarbone. “You tasted the result.”
A look I can’t describe takes over his features.
It’s intense.
It’s…obsessive.
“You’re never getting away from me, Vida.” His hand circles my throat, big and unyielding. “Do you understand?”
Drowsy, I assume we’re still in the game…and I nod.
No idea that my fate has been sealed.