Running Wild

When he took them to his face and breathed in her aroma, she had to shut her eyes.

"I think you want this just as much as I do." He commented.

She shook her head, eyes flashing open.

Part of her wouldn't give in—the civilized part, the part that wondered what the neighbors would think and doubted her own desire to be mastered. Besides, Piers was just having fun with it, he had no clue about her deeply buried fantasies.

The cool wooden surface of the chair beneath her bare bottom made her want to rock against it, but she stayed still, watching him warily. She felt strangely obscene sitting there with her sweater and hiking jacket still on, naked from the waist down. The underwear joined the rest of her clothes in a heap on the floor, then he knelt in front of her, his hands prizing her knees open.

Meg resisted for as long she could, then he ducked in and kissed her right on the pussy, his tongue poking down into the hot niche where her clit reared up. The damp pressure on the swollen nub was sudden and insistent, that vital, stimulating contact making her jerk then wilt.

Her limbs turned weak and he made his move, pushing her legs wide open then lifting her with his hands under her buttocks, accessing her splayed pussy with his mouth.

Meg couldn't hold back her response. An anguished moan rose up in her throat. It came out garbled through the gag, but it had to be obvious to him that his ministrations were giving her pleasure. There was nothing she could do about it though. Her body was angled for his view on the chair. She was like a puppet, his doll. The idea of it sent her into meltdown.

When she forced herself to look, she caught sight of his mouth closing over her pussy. Pleasure roared up from that spot, liquid heat sluicing through her groin. He sucked on her tender flesh while his tongue roved back and forth over her delighted clitoris. Darts of pleasure sprang from that point, surging through her entire groin.

Then he thrust his tongue inside her, and she melted completely. Meg wasn't able to do anything but enjoy the sensations he unleashed in her. Hot liquid ran down between her buttocks. Her very centre was alive with expectation, her sex ready to receive more of him, his entire erect length. The brusque rub of his stubble on her sensitive folds added a further dimension, needling her sensitive skin and assaulting her nerve endings. All of it conspired to undo her resistance, making her wriggle and work against him, desperate for relief.

When he lifted his head to look at her, he replaced his tongue with his fingers while he stared at her, studying her expression. It kept her right there on the edge of orgasm, the change to a harder digit making her clamp on the intrusion for relief.

"You like this, don't you?" He manipulated his fingers inside her and took another swipe at her clit with his tongue. "Being tied up and forced to have a good time."

She shook her head, denying it, but it was so true. Damn him.

He finger-fucked her then, slow and rhythmic, his thumb resting over her clit, rocking from side to side as he worked her. All the while he watched her closely.

Stop it, stop looking at me.

How did he know? He'd never done anything like this before, never keying in to her deepest desires so accurately, exploiting them to gain the upper hand with her. Lucky chance, she told herself, part of the joke he thought he was playing on her. The thought annoyed her, and she attempted to whack him with her leg. He pinned it back easily, and resumed his earlier position with his mouth on her pussy, taking away her ability to fight him by giving her acute pleasure.

His tongue roved back and forth over her swollen folds, before centering on her sensitive clit. Her feet lifted, one at a time, and she moved back and forth, grunting through the gag. She was on the verge of orgasm when it flashed through her mind. The only way he could know bondage and submission would turn her on was if he'd gone to the apartment—if he'd found her reading material. The intensity was too much and she closed her eyes. When she did

she saw those magazines, and imagined him looking at them. Women in willing submission, women being pleasured. The very notion that he'd done that, studied those images as she had—then done…this—sent her over the edge. A blistering orgasm rolled over her, every part of her groin on fire from it. Her sex spasmed, her folds awash with juices.

Piers lapped at her, stringing out her pleasure.

Eventually he pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark, his lust visible in the way he looked and the way he moved. When he rose to his feet, she could see the rigid line of his cock beneath the fly of his jeans. That sent a shiver right through her.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I'll light the fire, lover."

Mercifully he moved away, leaving her to contemplate the question. Had he been to the apartment? Did he know about the magazines?

It was harder than ever to level after the climax, because of the gag and the cuffs. The accoutrements and the set up seemed to keep her there on the crest of the wave, and she trembled as she watched him move around, stacking logs in the grate and lighting the kindle. The way his shoulders moved as he worked made her long to touch him, to stroke her hands over his muscular form.

The smell of the burning kindle reached her. Then he was back, standing in front of her, towering over her. "Are you ready to talk?"

No! She shook her head. This time, her denial was because she wasn't ready to talk, not yet. Not until this overwhelming feeling of being exposed died down. It wasn't going away any time soon either, because images of their bedroom flitted through her mind. She'd left the books and magazines out. It had never occurred to her that he would call by. They'd agreed to wait until after she returned, then have a proper talk and if necessary, split the stuff they had bought together.

Bondage and domination had long been a secret fantasy, and after the split she'd sent for some literature, indulging herself in it to stave the lonely nights and keep the regrets at bay. If he had seen that, he'd also now seen the way she responded.

Ashamed, she turned her face away. The worst of it was she was fast getting aroused again, and what she wanted most of all was his hardness inside her and the pressure of his body on hers—his will forcing her to open up fully, to receive him.

"I guess it'll take another good orgasm to break your silence on the matter of your sexual preferences," he stated, quite bluntly.

Meg stared at him in horror. Yes, he knew. He had been to the apartment.

His eyes had darkened, his handsome lips pressed together determinately as he considered her, clearly working out what he was going to do with her next.