Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Marigold
Reece stands close, looking as shaken as I feel. I can’t stop watching him.
His black hair is disheveled, his glasses fogged, and his lips shining with my desire.
My body hums but the sharp, unbearable pain that had torn through me has dulled into something controllable. The invention resting beneath my headband vibrates softly against my head, a steady reminder that it’s working.
Which might actually be a problem, because now that the pain has dulled I can focus fully on the intense desire swimming through my body, engulfing me.
I’m painfully aware of Reece. Everything about him.
The way those dark strands of hair fall across his eyes.
The tense muscles in his shoulders. The concern he keeps trying—and failing—to hide.
Oh, and the way his mouth felt on my pussy. His tongue. I’ve been able to bring myself to orgasm before with my own fingers, when I’m alone and exploring, but those private moments have never been as intense. They were nothing compared to when Reece touched me.
I’ve had his skillful fingers inside me, but now I want his cock.
What will it feel like to finally have a man inside me, thrusting deep and filling me with his cum?
I…I have no idea. But my body is reacting to the thought of it happening. I can’t imagine how it will be when it actually does happen.
I swallow hard. All these thoughts I’m having feel strangely loud in the quiet room.
With him standing in front of me, the stiff tent of his pants is at eye level, and the idea of me making him that hard does the most messed-up things to my common sense.
I grab for his trousers, hooking his belt loops and pulling him closer. My fingers brush the tip of his cock beneath the fabric, and when I feel it jerk, I bite my lip.
Maybe I can wait to fuck him. I think I’d like to take him into my mouth first. Taste him like he tasted me. But before I can get a good grip on his zipper, he twists away from me.
“No, not yet.” His voice is rough, like he’s struggling to hold himself back.
I won’t lie—his rejection stings, but I cling to the yet like an anchor.
“I’m okay,” I say, breathless, just in case that’s what he’s worried about. “Better than okay, actually.”
I’m restless. The device may have taken away enough of the agony but has left an uncontrollable hunger behind. A strange awareness has settled beneath my skin and refuses to leave. Every nerve feels awake. Every thought eventually circles back to him.
My gaze drops to the belt he’d bound my wrists with. I don’t know what made him think to do it, but being unable to get free made me feel oddly secure.
Reece notices me staring at it. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that.” He moves to retrieve it, but now it’s my turn to pull away.
“I liked it.”
Reece pauses. “The…belt?”
I nod. “It helped me focus on something other than my nerves. I’ve…I’ve never done anything like this before. But you know that.”
“Neither have I.” A faint smile touches his lips and a blush starts to climb up his neck.
“What?”
“I’ve had ideas. Um, fantasies.”
Another rush of warmth spirals through me. “Involving me?”
When he glances at the belt again, I become even more curious, my abdomen tensing and the throb between my legs spreading.
“What kind of fantasies?” I press.
His expression says he’d rather throw himself into the ocean than continue this conversation. Unfortunately for him, I’m not letting him escape.
“Reece? Tell me.”
“Okay, fine.” He exhales slowly. “Ropes.”
“Ropes…”
“Tying you up and…having my way with you.”
The confession makes my pussy clench.
Oh…my…God. Is that even a thing?
Reece has always been quiet and kind, with no walls around him to hide his secrets. Or so I thought. But now I’m discovering there are hidden depths and a side of him I want to explore more.
My imagination runs away with me. “Show me.”
His head snaps toward me. “What? Show you?”
“The ropes,” I say, breathless now. “Show me what you’ve always wanted to do to me.”
He groans like he’s in pain. “Mari—”
“You already admitted it. So show me.”
The heat may be affecting me more than I realize, but right now I don’t care. All I can think about is exploring every bit of pleasure I can with Reece. I can’t imagine going through this with anyone else but him.
The first thing he does is come over and slide my dress’s strap back into place.
I hadn’t even realized it had fallen, exposing my breast to him, until he touches me, and that tiny brush of his fingers makes me tremble.
Then he snatches up the belt and without a word, he crosses the room to a bunch of supply bundles and starts untying the rope binding them together.
I watch him intently. His fingers moved with practiced ease. One knot. Then another. A different side of Reece emerges with every loop he loosens.
When he gathers the rope into his hands and turns around, something’s changed. There is certainty, a quiet confidence I’ve only seen when he’s lost in working on a project. Now he’s in charge, a man with a mission, a singular focus.
He’s a man with hungers and desires and no leash containing them.
The basement suddenly becomes unbearably warm, and my clothes are too restrictive, too clingy and uncomfortable. He must be feeling the same thing because he starts to undo the buttons of his vest and dress shirt. Then he motions for me to follow along.
My thoughts scatter. I jump up so fast my head spins, and I start to tug at my dress. When I push it past my hips, it falls onto the floor, and all I’m left in is my simple white cotton panties.
His hungry gaze moves over me, and every pulse of desire feels stronger than the last, threatening to swallow me whole if I let it.
“You’re absolutely stunning, Mari,” he says. “You really are.”
The panic, the desperation, the overwhelming need that has been clawing at me eases just enough for me to breathe. This is really happening.
As if I’m his newest invention or project, Reece focuses completely on me.
He’s an artist in his own way, and I recognize that intense concentration in his eyes.
When he gestures for me to turn, I obey without hesitation.
The rope slides against my skin as he studies where to place it, carefully working through whatever design exists inside his brilliant mind.
As he drapes the rope around my shoulders and knots it, he studies my form as though it is a masterpiece made of flesh instead of paint or clay, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more beautiful.
A calmness beats within me alongside a violent need. The anticipation of what comes next, the final project—but I tell myself that, like art, it’s a process. It’s the technique, the method, the journey, not necessarily the result, that matters.
While he works out where he wants the knots, he ties a second rope into place, right under my breasts, crisscrossing in some elaborate pattern. Each touch by his hands is deliberate, every adjustment precise. The concentration on his face makes something warm unfurl inside my chest.
Even now, with my body screaming for relief, he treats this like something important. Something worthy of care.
Time seems to blur as he continues. The rope slowly becomes more than rope. It becomes a promise built specifically for me. Something sturdy and unbreakable, but also safe.
When he finally pauses, his blue eyes lift to mine. “Do you trust me, Mari?”
The answer comes easily. “Always.”
With that, he hooks his fingers into my panties and pulls them to my ankles so that I’m completely naked before him.
He kneels in front of me, and for a breathtaking moment I think he might slide his tongue between my pussy lips again, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he slides the rope around one thigh and then the other.
He takes his time, each placement of rope like a religious experience, every knot sacred.
“I’ve thought about this often,” he admits in a low voice. “Thought about how I’d love to see you this way. How to best frame you and make you mine.”
And when he’s almost done, he studies my pussy before creating the final two knots he ties into the rope. The first he places to the right of my opening, allowing pressure but no relief, and then he places the last one right over my clit, exactly where I want his tongue to be again, and I gasp.
It’s torturous, exhilarating, and frustrating all at the same time. I’m chasing something that remains just beyond reach.
Unable to hold myself up any longer from the weird configuration he has me in, I fall back, landing ass-first onto the cot with my hands pinned now in front of me, against my stomach.
Smiling, Reece shifts me so that I’m lying flat on my back, and when he tugs the end of the second rope, it forces me to spread my legs open.
I’m completely at his mercy. But I trust him more than I trust anyone else.
Reece hovers, and soft whimpers rise up my throat.
“You, Mari, are a priceless work of art,” he breathes as his gaze roams over my breasts, my stomach, and then my spread legs. “A true masterpiece.”
“And you’re the artist.”
To my surprise, he shakes his head. “No, I’m just an admirer who’s lucky enough to be in your presence.”
Warmth tingles across my chest. He’s so sweet; Reece has always been the kindest person I’ve ever met, the one person who can make me feel appreciated and cared for. I know I’m safe with him. Maybe that’s why I’m not scared right now and only excited tremors run through me.
The knots press into me everywhere, below my breasts, my spread thighs. Every time I try to move, a throb takes me. My clit is swollen, a greedy thing, and it’s trying to take whatever ounce of pleasure it can from the knot teasing it.
“Touch me, Reece,” I groan, unable to stand the lack of physical connection from him anymore. I need those hands on me again. The fever is sizzling, the dull ache that works beneath the pleasure he’s got me on the cusp of. “Show me all the things you’ve been dreaming about doing to me. I need you.”