31. Chapter 31
SEAN
SHE'S SPINNING AGAIN, AND I'M losing my goddamn mind.
It's Sunday, and this is the third time I'm watching her dance.
Friday night, after seeing her perform for the first time, I barely made it back to my apartment before needing to take care of myself.
Her taste lingered on my tongue, and her juices stained my jeans as I fumbled with my zipper.
I jerked off as soon as I closed the front door.
I had hoped that would be enough release, but my body was hot the rest of the night as I sat at the security hub.
I tried to get my mind off how much I craved Londyn, so I scrubbed through footage from the external feeds.
I searched for any sign that the Navy Caps popped up while I'd been in Londyn's apartment.
Still nothing. I checked for updates from my contacts.
Nothing. And I re-confirmed Miller was out of the country, thanks to celebrity gossip websites.
I'm doing my job. Despite how crazy I am for Londyn, my mind continues to work in the background, chewing on thoughts.
If Miller's Malibu property was raided two years ago, he could still have heat from the Feds.
Maybe he's losing his ability to cover his crimes and he sent the Navy Caps after Londyn to tie up loose ends.
But the fact that they haven't made a move bothers me.
In my experience, if you need to dispose of someone, you do it quickly. You don't stalk that person for months.
There's a piece still missing.
Friday night, I tried to get my mind off Londyn and did as much investigating as I could. But there are only dead ends right now. And my buddy Torres already risked his neck too much sending me the document about the Malibu raid. I can't ask him for more help.
After getting frustrated from the lack of leads, my energy started dragging around 2:00 AM. I slipped into Londyn's apartment to sleep. We agreed that, since Mike was gone, I'd crash on her couch when I needed rest. That way, I'd be in her apartment in case something happened.
My body wasn't done torturing me. I had wet dream after wet dream about the beautiful actress who completely flipped my world.
The worst part was that I had all those wet dreams, and a huge hard on, while sleeping on her couch.
When I woke up, clearly making a tent under her blanket, she was already in the kitchen fixing pancakes.
During breakfast, when we were almost done eating, she playfully licked whipped cream off my thumb, sending a sharp throb straight to my groin and leaving me with instant blue balls.
She wanted to give me another show after that.
She danced, touching herself on the couch while I sat helplessly restrained, doing nothing except watching.
When the show ended, neither of us wanted to be apart, so I monitored the feeds from my phone and we watched a movie together. I'd never been so content just holding hands with someone.
By yesterday evening, I was in a feverish haze, once more retreating to my apartment and desperate for release, caught in some relentless heatwave only she creates.
Now it's Sunday and we're on dance number three.
That sexy black silk robe flows around her like water catching moonlight, revealing glimpses of the black teddy underneath.
Her hair whips around her face as she turns, and when I get a glimpse of that bare ass, I have to remind myself not to break out of these handcuffs to stroke myself.
I could easily break out of them, the ropes too, but she needs me restrained, so that's what I am.
At her mercy.
The restraints bite into my wrists as I twitch against them.
Not trying to break free, just reacting to the pressure surging through my body every time she moves.
My muscles tense and release in a rhythm that matches her movements.
I'm completely under her control, and fuck if this isn't the hottest thing I've ever experienced.
I've been tied to this chair for nearly an hour. Her transformation I've seen over the past few days, watching her shift from nervous and hesitant to something vibrant and free has me grinning. Her letting me in like this is a privilege.
I'll stay bound all night if it makes her feel safe. Hell, for the rest of my life. I'd give her anything. I never realized how much I needed to be trusted this completely, to be the person she can be vulnerable with. I can't imagine my life without this now.
She moves closer, performing a slow turn that makes the silk ripple around her thighs. My abs tighten. I want to tell her how beautiful she is, how fucking resilient, but I don't want to break her concentration.
So I watch in awed silence as she dances, each movement more confident than the last. My desire is secondary to her needs. Always will be.
But damn, the way her body moves is testing every ounce of my self-control.
Her steps grow faster, the dance more daring. She's toying with me, spinning in and out of my reach like a dream I can't hold on to. Her smile is sultry and her eyes are dark with intent. She ends with a flourish, panting and triumphant, her arms raised high in victory.
The music fades and silence rushes in. For a moment, we just breathe, her chest rising and falling while my heart drums in my ears.
Then she walks toward the couch slow enough that I feel every step as a tiny vibration across the floor.
She lounges back against the cushions like she owns the world—my world—and spreads her thighs just enough to expose the edge of that lace teddy as it rests a half-inch below what I really want to see.
"I'm getting better at this," she says. Her fingers trace lazy circles over her bare knee, and I feel that touch like it's on my skin. "Tell me. What do you want?"
"What I want?"
"Yeah." She smiles and I know she's playing the same game she's been playing these past two days.
She's pulling me deeper into this world we're creating together, where it's just us and nothing else exists or matters beyond these four walls. Next, she'll get me to spill my guts about everything I'm desperate to do to her.
What I really want is to be free of these damn cuffs. I want my mouth on hers and my fingers buried deep inside her until she's crying my name over and over.
I want everything she's willing to give.
But all I manage is a hoarse groan as I strain against the restraints.
She laughs. "No breaking free," she warns with a shake of her head. "Not yet."
She lets one corner of her robe slip down, then pulls a strap of that teddy off her shoulder. I make fists behind the chair, my hands curling into themselves because they can't curl around her.
"So what do you want to see?"
"You," I rasp out. "Everything."
She slips the other strap down, giving me a glimpse of skin before covering herself again.
My cock twitches painfully inside my jeans as she toys with the lace just above her breasts.
She lowers it inch by excruciating inch until those beautiful breasts spill free.
I almost choke on my own spit. Her nipples are hard peaks begging for attention.
Before I can fill my lungs with air, she's sliding one hand down her stomach, over the teddy's black fabric. She watches my reaction like it's fueling her own desire.
"Is this what you want?" She lifts the bottom of her teddy and bares herself completely. She's pink and glistening under those delicate folds, and I go half-insane in front of her.
"Fuck," I say with a strangled voice. "Yes."
Her fingers dip lower as she watches me squirm helplessly in my seat, lost somewhere between torment and euphoria. She's merciless in her need to push us both to the brink.
The chair creaks under me; I'm pulling hard against it now without even realizing. I'm torn between wanting to watch every second and needing to shut my eyes because it's almost too much.
Almost.
I can't look away from how beautiful she is when she's like this; she's so utterly fearless with herself.
My hips jerk forward because there's no hiding how wrecked I am by the pace she's set since Friday night. It's exquisite torture, and I'm the luckiest bastard alive.
"What else?" Her voice is a whispered challenge.
"I want to hear you moan," I say. "I want you to use those fingers until you can't take it anymore."
Her eyes widen, and her fingers move with fresh urgency. She's slick and wet as she circles herself. Her breath quickens in that way that tells me she's already so damn close.
"Keep going," she gasps, and it's both a plea and a command. My favorite combination.
"I want to watch you come undone. I want you moaning my name because you can't hold it back."
Her wrist flicks faster as she listens, her lips parting around small whimpers that kill me with each sound. "Sean."
I groan before telling her "Just like that." I'm strung tight, my pulse crashing through every vein. Her face is flushed; she's right at the edge and teetering beautifully there.
If only it could be me inside her giving this pleasure, but I'm resigned to another night relieving my ache in a frenzy across the hall.
I'm completely caught up in the show when she surprises me by moving off the couch to where I'm bound. It's so quick I can hardly understand what's happening before she's uncuffing one of my hands.
"There," she says, leaving one of my hands free while hooking the other to the chair.
For an instant, I'm stunned silent as I move my freed hand to my thigh.
Once she's back on the couch and spreading her legs for me again, I finally speak. "What would you like me to do?"
"Give me a show this time."
I don't dare move my hand. "You sure?"
"My color is green. I want to see…" Her eyes lower to my crotch. She bites her lip and I'm no longer thinking.
Then need overtakes everything and I'm on myself with a vengeance. I make quick work of the zipper then my hand is around my cock.
I start slow, testing the waters to make sure she's okay seeing me like this; it's clear how much I want her. I stroke up my length once, gauging her reaction.
Her eyes are transfixed on me, her cheeks pink, and she's alternating between licking and biting her bottom lip.
"Color," I say.
"Green. I need more."
I squeeze the head of my cock, weeping pre-cum. Then I pump myself a few times and savor how her fingers plunge deeper inside her pussy. It's reckless and consuming; we're both frenzied now in a way that feels out of control but perfectly synchronized.
"More," she moans.
I squeeze my tip again and she bucks her hips. She's pushing us both further than I thought we could go—each stroke from me met with an even wilder one from her—and fuck if I'm not right there with.
I'm losing control and blurt out, "I need to get out of this chair and fuck you." Then I go still, worrying I said too much. I wasn't trying to make a request; she just has me losing my fucking sanity.
Her hand stops and she stares at me.
Fuck, I did say too much.
"Sor—" I start but don't finish because she's off the couch and walking toward me.
Once she reaches me and I'm gazing up at her, hoping I didn't just screw this up, she says, "I want that too. But… hands behind the chair."
I obey, my heart jack-hammering into my throat.
Of course I obey.