His expression softened infinitesimally. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do, Joy. All you have to do is tell me to stop and I will.”
She swallowed and nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“Take off your gown.”
She licked at her lower lip nervously as she sat up on the mattress. He stood watching her, his expression somber, his focus on her sharp. She lowered the straps of her nightgown and drew her arms through them. She began to draw the thin fabric down over her breasts.
“Slower,” he said.
She paused, looking at his face, but his gaze was glued to her breasts. She watched him as she slowly lowered the gown over the upper swells of flesh. When her nipples peeked out behind the fabric, he shifted on his feet and his penis jumped behind the cotton pants he wore. Sensing his arousal joined her to him, despite the space that separated them. It fed her desire and quieted her anxiety. She opened her hand at the edge of the fabric, letting her palm cup the sensitive skin of her lower breasts and drag along her rib cage and caress the curves of her hips.
“Stop,” he said abruptly when the silk lay like a yellow shimmering pool in her lap. “Stretch out on the bed.”
Joy followed his instruction. Rill and Katie had furnished the guesthouse with comfortable luxury. The pale blue sheets felt sensual and cool next to her heated skin. She lifted her head, her heart racing when Everett touched her left ankle. The padded cuff slipped over her foot. She saw only the top of his head as he bent, tightening the cuff around her and somehow affixing it to the frame of the bed. He moved over to restrain her other ankle, and she pulled experimentally on her left leg. She could bend her knee, but only slightly. Everett lowered to tie her other ankle, and her thighs parted into a wide V.
“Does that hurt?” he asked, glancing up from where he knelt on the floor in front of the bed.
“No,” she managed. She wasn’t lying. It wasn’t the stretch of her muscles that had made her eyes go wide.
A tiny smile tilted his mouth. She watched him, her breath growing increasingly choppy, as he moved to the head of the bed and restrained both of her wrists. Her head lay flat on the mattress, her arms stretched over her head toward both corners of the bed. The position seemed to constrict her breathing—or perhaps that was just her growing trepidation and excitement. If she weren’t able to clearly see the fat, mushroom-cap-shape of the head of Everett’s cock bob against the cloth of his pants, she might have considered telling him to stop. Everett had been right, though, when he’d said he thought she wanted to give him pleasure. Seeing how aroused he was becoming while he tied her up was her own aphrodisiac.
He finished and climbed onto the mattress, straddling her prone body on his hands and knees. His gaze lingered on her exposed belly and breasts.
“Try to relax,” he murmured. She suspected he noticed her erratic, shallow breathing. “Do you want me to tell you a joke?” he asked, smiling.
“This doesn’t seem very funny,” she whispered.
“No, but it’s not supposed to be brain surgery, either.” She met his stare. She laughed when she saw the heat and humor in his eyes. He chuckled and reached for one of the soft, decorative pillows and carefully lifted her head, leaning down and placing the cushion beneath her. “How’s that?”
“Fine.”
“Good,” he said. He shifted his weight and came down next to her on his side, his elbow bent, his jaw in his hand. She turned her chin and looked at him.
“You like this, don’t you?” she murmured, noticing his satisfied expression.
He reached across her and opened his hand along the side of her ribs, brushing the sensitive skin. Her nipples pinched tight.
“Why wouldn’t I like this?” he asked, his gaze on her breasts. “I’m not stupid.”
He continued to stroke the side of her from hip to waist, sending prickly tendrils of sensation across her breasts, belly and sex. He flickered his fingers between two ribs and then traced the taut skin over the bone. She gasped at the sharp sensation, something between a tickle and a jab of arousal. Her muscles tightened in the restraints. She saw his eyes on her torso, studying the effect of his caresses, seeing her pebbling flesh and tightening nipples. He glanced into her face.
“I noticed it before—how sensitive the side of your body is. It’s amazing. I thought it might feel sharper for you if you were restrained.”
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t, because his fingertips had trailed over her belly. He gently caressed the sensitive skin just above the draped silk of her gown, just inches away from her spread pussy. Warm liquid surged between her thighs.
“It’s because your body is drawn so tight,” Everett murmured next to her. She turned her chin to look at him, but he was watching his fingers enliven her flesh. Joy felt perspiration bead on her brow. “It stretches the nerves. Amplifies sensation. Here. I’ll show you better what I mean.”
She parted her lips to tell him she thought he was doing a fine job proving his point as it was, but was distracted when he shifted and straddled her again. His cock strained against the cloth over his left thigh. The bulbous head brushed against her as he reached for the pillow beneath her head.
“Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable,” he said. He shifted the silk pillow down behind her back, sliding it down to just above her waist, forcing her back into an arch. Before she understood his intent, he came down on his hands and bent his elbows, flexing his arm muscles, and licked her right nipple with a warm, laving tongue. She made a strangled sound, and then whimpered helplessly when he flicked at the sensitive morsel with the tip of his tongue.
“You have the prettiest breasts,” he said, his warm breath striking her wet nipple. He gave the tip an openmouthed kiss and let the edge of his teeth graze her, fini
shing with a lusty smacking sound.
“Everett,” she moaned.
“See what I mean?” he asked, giving her a smoky glance.