buckled.
Then, nothing. No sound of her movement. Possibly she was stumped. Perhaps she was wondering why she didn’t feel the same titillation about locking him up as she did about being manacled. It was the nature of the beast.
He was about to tell her so, when she kissed him.
Silent, hot, and ravenous, her lips met his. Startled, he jerked, then hissed as the rubber spikes poked him in the back. Every one of his nerves seemed to be extra receptive, and though pain-pricks didn’t pierce flesh, it did get his full attention. Very interesting.
“Steady there, big fella,” Lizbeth said, her own voice mirroring his earlier mocking tone. “I’d hate for you to damage this body.” She ran her hand over his chest, up to his chin, and over his lips. She replaced her fingers with lips again, and he could feel her heat radiating from her mouth. Her chest pressed against his. Very bold.
She wouldn’t get any more reactions out of him, he determined.
He heard her rummaging. “Hmm, what’s this?” From the buzzing, she’d discovered some of the battery-operated toys. Then, rattle of metal. Handcuffs . Clinking. Anal beads . Clicks and clanks and snips and thuds. Metal-studded cat-o’-nine tails, chain sets, nipple clamps, ball gags .
Was she trying to intimidate him with their various sounds? He smiled even as his breath sped up. She was so cute.
When he could feel her in front of him again, he slowly arched one eyebrow over his blindfold. He gave a small, mocking smile. He’d bet anything she was blushing like an embarrassed schoolgirl caught playing dress up.
Suddenly, he felt her small warm hands moving over his chest in little circles, as if savoring the feel of the broad expanse of his chest through his shirt. He tried not to enjoy her surprisingly aggressive touch, especially when she grazed his nipples. He noticed the way her breath quickened.
She let her hands wander up to his shoulders and down one arm, lingering on his bicep—he felt a moment’s vain satisfaction that he’d never stopped working out—and down farther, caressing cord and sinew on his lower arm before the leather of the manacle interrupted her exploration. Fingertips trailed sensuously against his half-open palm on the other side. He couldn’t completely keep his hand from twitching slightly, which irritated him.
He wished she would step against him to feel the length of his body pressed against the length of hers. He would have done that.
She did ease closer. He could smell her heat, and the scent of fabric softener under the musk of the dogs she’d worked with all day. Good, earthy smells.
He thought rapidly, trying to distract himself. He wondered at her experience training dogs, at her need to dominate them. To become a more dominant person. She failed to realize she didn’t need force and intimidation to control dogs, or to stand up for herself with people. She didn’t need to become an aggressive, leader-of-the-pack type. She simply needed to sense her own gentle authority.
He hoped their play session helped her sense it. Soon.
Ro felt the air warm as the space between them shrank. All thoughts of pack dynamics evaporated. Her body met his like a homecoming, her heat mingling with his own. She turned her head, rubbing her cheek sensuously against the soft material of his shirt. Her low sound of satisfaction had him twitching again, with increasing discomfort from the ache in his cock.
He felt little tugs as she nipped at the material of his shirt. “Good enough to eat,” she said.
Ro cleared his throat. “Okay. I think we might want to switch things around….”
Her only response was to nibble at his chest and then his belly, causing a warm flurry of desire to cascade through his body. He tried desperately to remain impervious.
When she exchanged nipping for licking, he knew he was in trouble. Warm moist heat followed the point of her tongue. A sudden gust of cool wind told him she’d lifted up his shirt. He
Then, nothing. No sound of her movement. Possibly she was stumped. Perhaps she was wondering why she didn’t feel the same titillation about locking him up as she did about being manacled. It was the nature of the beast.
He was about to tell her so, when she kissed him.
Silent, hot, and ravenous, her lips met his. Startled, he jerked, then hissed as the rubber spikes poked him in the back. Every one of his nerves seemed to be extra receptive, and though pain-pricks didn’t pierce flesh, it did get his full attention. Very interesting.
“Steady there, big fella,” Lizbeth said, her own voice mirroring his earlier mocking tone. “I’d hate for you to damage this body.” She ran her hand over his chest, up to his chin, and over his lips. She replaced her fingers with lips again, and he could feel her heat radiating from her mouth. Her chest pressed against his. Very bold.
She wouldn’t get any more reactions out of him, he determined.
He heard her rummaging. “Hmm, what’s this?” From the buzzing, she’d discovered some of the battery-operated toys. Then, rattle of metal. Handcuffs . Clinking. Anal beads . Clicks and clanks and snips and thuds. Metal-studded cat-o’-nine tails, chain sets, nipple clamps, ball gags .
Was she trying to intimidate him with their various sounds? He smiled even as his breath sped up. She was so cute.
When he could feel her in front of him again, he slowly arched one eyebrow over his blindfold. He gave a small, mocking smile. He’d bet anything she was blushing like an embarrassed schoolgirl caught playing dress up.
Suddenly, he felt her small warm hands moving over his chest in little circles, as if savoring the feel of the broad expanse of his chest through his shirt. He tried not to enjoy her surprisingly aggressive touch, especially when she grazed his nipples. He noticed the way her breath quickened.
She let her hands wander up to his shoulders and down one arm, lingering on his bicep—he felt a moment’s vain satisfaction that he’d never stopped working out—and down farther, caressing cord and sinew on his lower arm before the leather of the manacle interrupted her exploration. Fingertips trailed sensuously against his half-open palm on the other side. He couldn’t completely keep his hand from twitching slightly, which irritated him.
He wished she would step against him to feel the length of his body pressed against the length of hers. He would have done that.
She did ease closer. He could smell her heat, and the scent of fabric softener under the musk of the dogs she’d worked with all day. Good, earthy smells.
He thought rapidly, trying to distract himself. He wondered at her experience training dogs, at her need to dominate them. To become a more dominant person. She failed to realize she didn’t need force and intimidation to control dogs, or to stand up for herself with people. She didn’t need to become an aggressive, leader-of-the-pack type. She simply needed to sense her own gentle authority.
He hoped their play session helped her sense it. Soon.
Ro felt the air warm as the space between them shrank. All thoughts of pack dynamics evaporated. Her body met his like a homecoming, her heat mingling with his own. She turned her head, rubbing her cheek sensuously against the soft material of his shirt. Her low sound of satisfaction had him twitching again, with increasing discomfort from the ache in his cock.
He felt little tugs as she nipped at the material of his shirt. “Good enough to eat,” she said.
Ro cleared his throat. “Okay. I think we might want to switch things around….”
Her only response was to nibble at his chest and then his belly, causing a warm flurry of desire to cascade through his body. He tried desperately to remain impervious.
When she exchanged nipping for licking, he knew he was in trouble. Warm moist heat followed the point of her tongue. A sudden gust of cool wind told him she’d lifted up his shirt. He
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