CHAPTER TWELVE
Dinner is pretty relaxed. Luke makes pasta while Hunter opens a bottle of wine. We eat on the deck, watching the sunset.
“This is nice,” Luke says. “Feels like the first time I’ve been able to breathe in weeks.”
“You doing okay?” Hunter asks him.
“Yeah,” Luke says. “I mean, I still have nightmares sometimes. But I’m getting better.”
“You should talk to someone,” I suggest. “A therapist, I mean. What you went through was traumatic.”
Luke nods. “I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe I will.”
After dinner, Luke heads out as promised, leaving Hunter and I alone.
“Bedroom,” Hunter says. “Now.”
I head upstairs to the bedroom, my heart pounding. The master bedroom is gorgeous—floor-to-ceiling windows facing the ocean, a massive bed with white linens, and a small balcony.
Hunter follows me in and closes the door.
“Strip,” he commands.
I do as he says, removing my clothes slowly.
“On the bed. On your back.”
I climb onto the bed and lie down, my heart racing with anticipation.
Hunter opens a drawer in the nightstand and pulls out rope.
“I’m going to tie you up,” he says. “And then I’m going to edge you for as long as I see fit. You don’t get to come until I say so. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I breathe.
He ties my wrists to the headboard, then my ankles to the bedposts, spreading me wide.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, stepping back to admire his work. “Completely at my mercy.”
He starts by running his hands over my body—my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. Every touch is light, teasing.
Then his mouth follows the same path. He kisses and licks and nibbles until I’m squirming.
“Please,” I whimper.
“Please what?” he asks.
“Please touch me,” I beg.
“I am touching you,” he says with a wicked smile.
“You know what I mean,” I say.
“Use your words, baby girl,” he says. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“I want you to touch my pussy,” I say, my face flushing.
“Such a dirty mouth,” he says. “I love it.”
His fingers finally, finally, start to trail down between my legs. He runs one finger along my slit and I gasp.
“So wet,” he observes. “You love being tied up and at my mercy, don’t you babygirl?”
“Yes,” I admit.
He slides one finger inside me and I moan.
“That’s my good girl,” he says, adding a second finger.
He pumps them in and out slowly while his thumb circles my clit.
I can feel an orgasm building already.
“Don’t you dare come,” he warns.
He brings me right to the edge, then stops.
I whimper in frustration.
“That’s one,” he says. “We’re just getting started.”