Day 17
Share an intimate desire or sexual fantasy that your partner doesn’t know.
“Well, won’t this be fun?” Daniel says as he hands me the day’s card. I skim it and heat rises in my blood. The electric blanket I finally put on the bed this morning and have set to eight isn’t helping.
“It says share, not indulge, babe. This is another talking card.”
“What do you want to bet tomorrow’s prompt is the doing?”
“Want to check?” I ask.
“Nah, I like the surprise.” He’s sitting against the headboard, two pillows behind his back, without a shirt. The muscles in his abs flex as he breathes out a soft exhale. I could run my fingers along them and watch goosebumps trail in their wake. Except I can’t, because it’s a talking day.
“Are you pouting?” he says, his voice capturing the smile on his face.
“Was I? Just distracted by your abs. And now rude it is that I’m not going to get my hands on them tonight.”
“I already know how much you love my abs. You’re supposed to tell me something I don’t know.” The smirk he gives is equal parts flirty and infuriating.
Deciding to level the playing field, I peel off my top. Without the threadbare t-shirt I've had for ten years, I’m fully topless. “Now who’s pouting? Or is it panting? You look short of breath.”
“Nope, I’m fine,” he says as he sucks in a lungful of air before biting down on a fist. “Let’s get started.”
“You go first,” I prompt.
“What if it freaks you out? If you go first, then I’ll know how wild I can be.”
“What if I freak you out?” I volley back. “I could be into some really kinky stuff.”
He cocks his head and looks me over, dragging his eyes from my waist, lingering at my tits, and perusing slowly upward before he meets my eyes. I feel it like his fingertips walking up my skin, and a shiver courses through me. “You could be. I believe that now,” he says in response.
“It’s not that kinky. It’s probably pretty tame by everyone else’s standards.”
“So you have an idea in mind, then?”
Damn. I walked right into his trap to make me share first. I won’t give him the satisfaction of the win, though, so I roll my shoulders back, jut out the girls, and look him right in the eye to say, “Tie me up.”
Daniel chokes on his own saliva and tries to cover it with a cough. A creeping red flush starts on his neck.
“I want you to tie me up and blindfold me,” I continue. “Then, I want you to do whatever you want. Take your time, play with me, surprise me. Use one of my toys or whatever you like. I’d want it to be time-bound though, so I’m not worried about whether you’ll leave me there.”
“Do you really think I’d get you restrained and consenting to whatever I want and then leave? Absolutely fucking not.” I watch him reach below the comforter to adjust himself, though it doesn’t stop the sheet from tenting above his lap. “Handcuffs, rope, or fabric ties?” he asks.
My skin prickles and the thumping of my heart travels between my legs, settling into a dull ache.
“Ties, I think.”
“Mmm-hmm. Hands, feet or both?”
“Maybe hands to start,” I reply. “I liked it when we couldn’t use our hands a few days ago.”
He nods and rolls out his shoulders. “Do you like the idea of not being able to touch me, or not being able to stop me? Obviously, we’d have a safe word you could use if it gets to be too much.”
“I like the idea of being totally at your mercy. By the end of the day, I am tired of making ten thousand micro decisions—I want you to be in charge. I want you to make me feel good.”
The ache grows in my core, wetness collecting in anticipation of a release that’s not coming—not today at least.
“Do you want me to tell you what I’d do? Or is the anticipation part of the fun?” he asks.
“With the blindfold, I think the anticipation is part of it. So, what do you think? Was that too wild?” I reply.
“Not a chance. How about I raise the stakes and share my idea?”
“Should I be nervous?” I ask. He laughs and brings a warm hand to brush a piece of hair behind my ear. The contact, gentle and mild as it is, is electrically-charged. I want to tilt my head against his hand to trap it on my shoulder and keep him there. Instead, he pulls back.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he says. “Remember on our honeymoon when I bent you over the balcony railing in our room? Maybe it’s a voyeurism kink, but I like the idea of being public and the risk that someone sees exactly how feral you are.”
I like the idea too. Except that I’m a mother, and getting arrested for public indecency is not a risk I’m willing to take. I tell Daniel as much, and he scrapes a hand across his jaw.
“What if we do both?" he continues. "I’ll tie you up in the living room, fully exposed to the windows facing the rear of the house. If we do it tomorrow night, it’ll be dark, but there’s still a chance someone will be on the walking trail behind the yard.
If they see us, they see us. We won’t stop them from watching. You won’t know if someone’s watching.”
Oh.
The windows Daniel’s talking about aren’t just windows—they’re damn near a glass wall that spans the length of the room, overlooking the yard (and what could be, at some point, a back patio). The natural light from those massive windows is what sold me on this house.
“So what do you think, Molls? You in?” he asks, with a nudge of his shoulder against mine. I watch his eyes drop down to my breasts, and the hardened peaks of my nipples.
“I’m in. You figure out what we need.”