Chapter 28 #2
I slowly remove my fingers, supporting her as she sinks onto the blanket.
“As good as you remember?” I ask, letting more than a hint of satisfaction creep into my words.
“Amazing. Again.”
I trace my fingers over her body as she recovers. Eventually, she shifts to her knees and turns to me.
“Get up,” she orders, and I do as I’m told, anticipation already building.
Fiona points at the bench and says, “Sit there.”
I follow her instructions. The wood is hard and rough, but there aren’t any splinters, thankfully.
Fiona drags the blanket in front of the bench and reaches into her bag. She faces me with a smile and a dangerous gleam in her eye, then displays a coil of rope.
“Ooh, interesting,” I murmur as she walks around the bench behind me. I turn to watch, more curious than ever.
“No, just sit there. Give me your hands,” she demands.
I reach my arms up, hands near my head.
Fiona lets out an exasperated sigh and grabs one, pulling my arm over the back of the bench. She repeats the process with the other, and then the rope wraps around my wrists.
I’m staring forward, wondering what the plan is.
She could’ve tied my hands without the bench, and even bound like this, I can get up.
After a few seconds though, there’s a tug to one side, and I can’t move to the right any longer.
Huh, is all I have time to think before I’m pulled the other way.
Now I’m barely able to shift my arms. She tied me to the legs of the bench, I realize.
Oh shit, what if I can’t get out of this? What if someone shows up? How long will it take to get away? What if she ends up disappointed because I can’t do enough to make this fun? What if—
Fiona struts into view, her eyes boring into mine. “It’s my turn to repay the favor,” she says before straddling me and plunging her tongue into my mouth.
“Mmm,” I groan and try to wrap my arms around her. Only my hands don’t move, and my groan turns to frustration.
Fiona’s lips, still pressed against mine, curl into a smile. She leans away to tell me, “Nope, you just have to stay there.”
Then she lifts the whipped cream can and sprays a little where my neck meets my collarbone.
The cold is quickly replaced by the warmth of her tongue as she licks it off my skin, and my eyes roll back as I let out a deep sigh.
All too soon, it’s gone, and Fiona pulls away.
She adds some to each of my nipples, and I know that means her mouth will be on them soon.
That knowledge, combined with the sudden chill, makes them harden and ache. Down below, my dick follows suit.
Fiona licks the cream off my chest, and I gasp in a breath. The pressure is building as my dick pulses with need. I strain against the rope, twisting my hands to no avail.
“Okay, you got me going. Untie me now,” I plead.
Fiona sits back and stares into my eyes. “Oh, do you need release?”
She moves to kneel between my thighs, spraying whipped cream all over my cock. She gives me one last smirk and lowers her head.
“Oh, fuck!” I shout, closing my eyes and dropping my head back as she sucks it off me.
I’m unable to do anything but writhe, nearly overwhelmed, as she slowly works down the length of my shaft. Fiona moves inch by inch, licking the whipped cream off me, swirling her tongue all over, sucking as she swallows.
By the time she’s taken me fully, there’s a tingle building at the base of my dick.
I arch my hips to press further into her throat, and I want to tangle my hands in her hair and push her head onto my cock even more, but I can’t.
I desperately want her to keep going, but I don’t want to finish without ever being inside her.
“Oh god, Fiona. I’m getting close,” I warn. If she wants to be in control, she can decide how this ends.
She eases off agonizingly slowly, running her tongue over every inch of my cock, leaving me a panting, quivering mess.
“Good?” she asks as she sits back, looking pleased.
“Incredible.”
“I aim to please, too.” She reaches behind her into the backpack, and all I can do is admire the view and wait for whatever comes next. The crinkling sound of a wrapper precedes her turning back to me with a condom.
“Damn,” I breathe softly as she rolls it out over the length of me. “Okay, but you probably want to wait a sec because I am still right there.”
“Mmm, then I guess I should join you,” Fiona replies in a low voice. She climbs onto the bench, straddling my lap. She reaches her hand between us to align my cock with her clit, then rocks her hips sliding up and down my shaft. The friction is exquisite.
I look down to watch, but every time she rocks forward her tits rub against my face, and I can’t focus on anything else.
I strain against my bonds again, but the most I can manage is sliding my arms side to side. I never realized how much I relied on grabbing or touching with my hands. Who thought torture would be so fun?
She’s so wet as she slides along me, and my dick is throbbing again, although I’m not sure it ever stopped. I growl in frustration.
That must have been the cue Fiona was waiting for because she repositions herself above me, guides the tip of my cock to her opening, then sinks down. I’m enveloped in her warmth as her walls press around me.
She moans at the same time I say, “Oh, yes.”
She pauses in my lap, quivering with me inside her. I arch my hips again, pushing deeper. She gasps, and her muscles squeeze my cock in waves.
When her eyes open, she starts bouncing atop me, riding my length up and down. She doesn’t bother trying to build up speed. She seems like she’s racing to the finish. I’ve been desperate for release all night, for weeks really, so I rock my hips in sync with her rhythm.
I’m thrusting while she’s riding in perfect counterpoint, and the tingle starts rising again. I’m nearly there.
“I’m gonna come,” I call out without slowing.
“Don’t stop!” Fiona orders.
The first wave of the orgasm hits and flows out from my dick, then the burst of cum shoots out, trapped by the condom. My leg muscles twitch, but I force myself to keep thrusting, although erratically. My cock is even more sensitive now, and each thrust brings a new level of pleasure.
“You feel so fucking good,” I tell her just before she cries out, writhing on top of me, her hips convulsing wildly. I want this to last as long as it can for her, so I continue thrusting until she falls still.
My shoulders slump, and I’m panting. But it’s hard to say whether it’s from exertion, the overwhelming sensation of my need for her having been fulfilled, or sheer stress relief.
Fiona is still straddling me, holding me inside her while she rests against my chest, her head on my shoulder. Suddenly she bolts upright, staring down the trail.
“Shit, headlamps! Someone’s here,” she says, jumping off the bench.
“What? Untie me, quick!”
She doesn’t respond. She’s busy grabbing our clothes.
“What the hell? Fiona, come get my hands,” I demand, but still no answer.
Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Why the hell is she leaving me like this? I didn’t even ask for this, and she’s going to abandon me here? My mind is racing and not the least bit helpful.
“You can’t leave me here! It won’t take long, just untie me.” My voice rises as I beg in desperation.
“There isn’t time,” she hisses.
“You can’t be serious! You’re going to leave me tied to a park bench, naked?”
She picks up the blanket, spreading it across my lap. “There. Now you’re covered.”
“I’m not—What? No! Fiona, they’re going to see me!” I plead.
“Just hold still and be quiet. Maybe they won’t notice you.”
“This isn’t Jurassic Park,” I fume, my heart pounding for a totally different reason now.
“Shh. I’m not here!” she says, disappearing around a tree trunk with our clothes in her arms.
I have to do something. I can’t just wait for them to find me.
I already know I can’t pull my way out, but I can shift my arms to the sides so there’s some play in the rope.
According to a Hardy Boys book I read as a kid, when someone is tying your hands with rope, if you flex your forearms and press your hands against each other, you’ll be left with a little space afterward that you can use to work yourself free.
I did that, as much as I was able, but it doesn’t seem to have mattered.
I feel around with my fingers, assessing the knot.
Fiona was in a rush earlier, trying to move on to more fun activities.
This shouldn’t be too bad, only the knot is thicker than I expected.
I’m picking at it from every direction, but I’m not making any progress.
How the hell is she some kind of expert in fancy knots? I wonder.
Muffled voices drift to me, indistinct but moving closer.
Oh great. Not just one person. A chill builds in the center of my chest.
I try twisting my wrists and wriggling my arms, desperately hoping I can slide out of the rope. But it’s as unsuccessful as everything else. Footsteps crunch over the rocks on the trail nearby. They’ll be on top of me soon.
I’m not going to make it out of these ropes in time, and even if I did, they’d see me run away now. My only option is to freeze and hope they don’t notice me, like Fiona said. With my shoulders over the back of the bench, I can’t even sink down and hide.
I hold my breath and close my eyes—because obviously that will help—every muscle tense.
The voices slowly move past me deeper into the woods.
“This is fucked up, Fiona! I am so going to get you back for this,” I whisper once I no longer hear the voices.
She materializes out of the darkness to my right, moving behind me.
“Nothing happened. You’re fine. I’ll have you out in a couple minutes.”
“Nothing happened?” I mutter as the ropes tug against my skin. Eventually the knot loosens, and the rope drops from my wrists.
I spring away from the bench before Fiona rises to her feet. The blanket slides to the ground, and the spent condom falls from my completely flaccid dick.
“You’re never tying me up again, no matter how hot that was,” I declare.
She eyes me up and down before answering. “It was pretty hot, and I would’ve gotten you out if I needed to.”
I waste no time putting my clothes on as Fiona keeps watch. For all the good that does now.
“You know what sucks?” I ask.
“What?”
“The Hardy Boys are full of shit.”
“Order up!” I shout.
Jackie adds a new ticket to the rail and scoops up the plates I just set out. Before grabbing the next ticket, I pick up my water bottle and make a show of drinking. I take my time because I’m using the opportunity to stare at Fiona.
It’s the height of Sunday brunch, and she’s sitting along the rear wall again—in my line of sight from the grill.
Over the past month, we’ve only stolen brief glances while she’s been here.
It’s been better than nothing, and although I’ve appreciated her coming, it’s also been torture.
Today feels different, though. She’s not bothering to hide that she’s watching me.
When I smile at her, she doesn’t turn away.
It’s almost as if we’re truly spending time together.
The bell over the door rings, calling me back to my responsibilities. I set the bottle down and reach for the next ticket.
“Richard White,” a deep voice booms from the front.
My brows draw together in confusion as I turn to look. Nobody calls me that… except the cops. Shit.
Customers who’ve been standing by the door waiting for a table are pressing back, crowding people already seated.
A wall of brown blocks the doorway before resolving into a pair of deputies flanking the sheriff.
Another two deputies are circling around the counter, shoving people more than necessary on their way to the employees-only area.
“What is this? What’s going on?” I ask loudly. I’m used to speaking over the noise of dozens of people eating and talking, but the diner is rapidly falling silent.
“Richard White, you are under arrest,” Sheriff Morris replies just as loudly.
That’s not the voice that called my name, I think uselessly. Then the first of the deputies reaches the grill, and I recognize Deputy Voice an instant before he grabs my upper arm. Ah, it must’ve been him.
“What? What the hell for?” I demand as both deputies drag me forward. Deputy Voice yanks me down, almost smashing my face against the countertop. The other deputy twists my arm behind me until my shoulder hurts so much I grunt in pain.
“Sir, please stop resisting,” he intones while they lock me in handcuffs. I guess they’re putting on a show today.
“We’ve been over this, Morris. I didn’t do anything, and you know it!”
“You’ll have your chance to explain it to the judge. Until then, you have the right to remain silent…” The sheriff recites my Miranda rights to the entire diner as the deputies shove me around the counter.
I try to get one more glance at Fiona before they drag me away. I only find her for a second, and her expression is carefully blank.
Fuck. Exactly what she was always afraid of. She won’t trust me anymore. Nothing has changed since I talked to these assholes. Why are they doing this now? My anger is swiftly turning to fear. Fear that I’ve let Fiona down.
“Sandy, close the place up!” I shout over my shoulder before they drag me outside.
The deputies haul me to a cruiser parked on the curb, but don’t put me inside. After a moment, the sheriff struts out too. He pauses in front of me and leans close with the most infuriatingly smug grin I’ve ever seen. I wish I could punch him.
“We have footage of you riding out to Highland Estates two days before the firebombing. I got you.”