Tied with Me (With Me in Seattle 6)

“A couple of guidelines,” he murmurs gently. “If you say ‘no’ or ‘stop,’ it all ends immediately. I’m not a sadist, so I don’t want you to hurt. But you will do as I say, without question.” He leans down and pins me in those ice-blue eyes. “Are we clear?”

“I don’t have a say?”

“I didn’t say that. If you are in pain or uncomfortable, you say so. But I’m going to make very sure that you’re not.” He grins, pushes a finger in the ropes that cross between my breasts and tugs me to him.

“Do I need a safe word?” I ask.

“‘No’ is your safe word, little one.”

“Okay,” I whisper just before his mouth finds mine again. His mouth is hard and frantic, urgent. This is going to be fast and hard, and oh my God, I can hardly wait.

We reach my bedroom, and he flips on the bedside lamp, sending a soft glow through the room.

“I can’t take my clothes off with these ropes around me.”

Standing before me, he leans his forehead against my own and brushes his hands down my upper arms and my sides, down my thighs to where the edge of my thigh-highs meet my skirt.

“I don’t need you naked to fuck you. It would be preferable, but I enjoy seeing you in my ropes.”

I grin and tilt my head to the side. “Why?”

He shakes his head and covers my mouth with his as he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside. He steps away from me to open his belt and pants, steps out of them, and I’m shocked to see that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

How that can shock me after everything I’ve seen tonight, I have no idea.

His eyes drift down my face, my neck to my breasts to where my nipples are pressed against the material of my shirt. He cups my breasts in his hands and bends over to pull the hard nubs into his mouth, shirt and all.

My head falls back as I feel the pull all the way down between my legs where the ropes are nestled against my folds. All he has to do is tug them and my panties to the side and he can easily slide right inside me.

“Want to touch you,” I whisper. I desperately want to grip his hard dick in my hand, make him as crazy as he’s making me.

He lays a hand on my shoulder. “On your knees,” he murmurs, guiding me down before him.

I greedily open wide, taking the head of his hard cock into my mouth, sucking and lapping at him like my life depends on it.

And damn if I don’t feel myself grow wetter when he growls deep in his throat.

I look up to find him watching me, his jaw clenched tightly and eyes narrowed, glowing bright blue.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he groans and gathers my long hair in his hands, pulling until he’s just tugging, not quite hurting me, and begins to guide himself in and out of my mouth. He never pushes in hard enough to choke me. He’s in complete control, enjoying my mouth on him.

“There is nothing sexier than this. You, on your knees, in my ropes, with your sexy mouth wrapped around my dick.”

God, I love his dirty mouth.

I moan in agreement and slide my tongue over the long vein on the underside of him. I can’t help but grin to myself when I feel the fingers in my hair shake.

Suddenly, he guides me to my feet and bends me over the bed. He hikes my skirt up over my ass, parts the ropes and pulls my thong to one side. Instead of pushing inside me like I’m expecting, he kneels and buries his face deep into my folds, sucking and licking and making me see stars.

“Holy shit!” I squeal and try to stand, but he plants one large hand between my shoulder blades and holds me down as he assaults me with his mouth. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.

He presses two fingers inside me and massages my clit with his thumb as he stands behind me, opens a condom with his teeth and manages to roll it down his length one-handed.

He quickly pulls his fingers out of me and replaces them with his cock, pushing in until he’s seated balls-deep, making us both moan. He grips my bound hands and begins to ride me, hard and fast.

“God, you feel so good.” His voice is rough and broken. “So fucking tight. How long has it been?”

I shrug. Jesus, he wants me to think now?

“Answer me,” he commands and slaps my ass with his hand, making me squeal.

The pain surprises me but is quickly replaced by an erotic heat that makes me want to squirm beneath him.

“I don’t know. A year?”

“Fuck me,” he whispers and continues to pound inside me, as though he’s running a race, and the finish line is in sight. He keeps his hand tightly gripped to my wrists, and with the other, grips on to my hair and pulls me back until my chest is off the bed and I’m completely at his mercy.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, his mouth pressed against my ear.

“No,” I gasp. God, this angle makes him feel even bigger. I want to rotate my hips, to push back against him, but I’m defenseless with my arms pinned and my torso being held off the bed.

“Am I pulling your hair too hard?”

Yes.

But I like it.

“No,” I reply and gasp when he pushes into me even harder, bucking his hips against my ass. I feel the tension building, settling in the small of my back.

“Do not come until I tell you,” he commands, his teeth clenched.

“But…” I begin, but he grips my wrist tighter.

“You heard me.”

I swallow and try to concentrate on something else. Grocery shopping. The orders I have to fill for tomorrow. What to send to my grandmother for her birthday next month.

But it’s no use. My body is on fire, and there is no turning back.

Finally, with a roar, he pushes inside me and yells out, “Come, Nic!”

And I do, succumbing to the most intense orgasm of my life. My hips jerk against him as he comes inside me, our bodies moving in sync, perfectly attuned to each other.

Finally, he plants a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades as he releases my hair and wrists and begins to untie me.

“You could just cut me out,” I whisper, resting against the soft cotton of my duvet.

“I prefer this,” he replies softly.

As he loosens the knots, he massages my skin gently, and my body is just one big ball of sensation, from the intense sex and the sweet way he’s touching me now.

When my arms are free, he helps me to my feet so he can finish untying his intricate knots.

“I liked it,” I murmur, watching his hands.

“Did you,” he responds with a half smile.