Sweet Backlash (8 page)

"I'm going to tie the first knot. Are
you ready?" Melony gave him a coy, flirty smile and ran the
tassel-like end over his abs in a figure eight.

"I'm ready if you are," he replied,
his voice more confident. Gripping his leg, he tried not to think
about sending a finger between her thighs. So close. So
tempting.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, she
lightly grazed fingernails down his arm and brought his wrist
between them. She snaked the line around it, then tied a looping
tongue knot. "Is that too tight?"

Twisting his hand, he frowned. "No, it
feels too loose."

She tried to wedge her thumb
underneath, but couldn't get it in past the cuticle of her
nail.

Impressed, he said, "You make the boy
scout in me proud."

She exhaled a single, quiet guffaw.
"You were a boy scout?"

"Mm-hmm." He used the moment to sneak
a feel of her. Running the back of his thumb down her cheek, he
said, "But I quit well before I made Eagle Scout."

She glanced at his extended arm, but
didn't pull away. Looking into his eyes, she teased,
"Quitter."

He trailed his finger from her jaw
down her neck, wishing he could do the same with his
lips.

"I may be top, but I get to say
'stop,' too." Her words sounded sure but her face told him she
loved the caress.

"Top?" he asked.

"I'm doing the tying. I'm the top,"
she said on a heavy exhale. "You're being tied, so you're the
bottom."

He continued down, traversing smooth
skin until he outlined the tops of her breasts. So firm, so silky
soft. "Melony, you're breathtaking."

"Stop," she whispered. She hitched a
breath and closed her eyes. She didn't sound like she really wanted
him to, but he let his hand fall to his side.

Keeping her gaze averted, she moved
behind and folded his arm across his lumbar. She wrapped the rope
over his shoulder, grazing his sensitized skin as she went, and
increasing his excitement.

After securing the length around his
middle, she gave the rope a tug. "Okay. See how that feels. Can you
still move some?" She sounded more in control. Damn.

He tried to swing his elbow out and
found he had a comfortable amount of movement, though he couldn't
pull his hand out from behind his back. "It's good."

"To add to your pleasure, massage your
back as we go. And be sure to let me know if you start getting
stiff, or if your hands begin feeling cold or losing sensation.
Okay?"

"You bet." Now come back around so I
can look at you, gorgeous.

She came to stand before him, a long
portion of remaining rope still draped over her arm. In a strange
way, the line connected them, bridged a gap on an emotional level
he couldn't quite comprehend.

Staring at his hard-on, she said, "I
see you like this."

"I like you." He took a chance and
brushed a tendril from her temple, letting his knuckles linger on
her forehead.

Her eyes still on his cock, she licked
her lips.

He grew harder and let his hand fall
to his side.

"It's darker," she said, and reached
for it.

When she sent a tentative touch from
the tip to the base, he closed his eyes. Her pliant fingers wrapped
around him, and he opened his eyelids to find her watching his
face. She looked innocent, curious. The pressure built and he had
to hold himself in check to keep from coming in her hand. The only
way he could prevent a surge toward orgasm was to turn his focus to
her.

Maintaining eye contact, he cupped her
pussy.

Melony melted. Her blood screamed
through her veins, thundering in her ears, and her heart threatened
to explode out of her chest. Chip didn't just touch her, he brought
her to life.

Stop.

His hand cupped her, his fingertips
brushing her pubic hairs back and forth and creating a maddening
pressure along her slit.

Stop.

Moving her gaze from his intense,
pleasure-brightened eyes, she glanced to her hand wrapped around
his rock hard cock. Her need increased. A tightening she had never
felt before began at her opening and traveled into the very center
of her belly. With a heavy sinking sensation, moisture flowed from
that tightening and slicked her inner thighs. The throbbing became
so intense, her knees threatened to buckle and the reddish-brown
rope slipped a bit on her arm, reminding her of her
purpose.

His finger slipped between her swollen
lips, the relief instantaneous.

Stop.

Biting back a moan, she sank her teeth
into her bottom lip and willed her legs to hold her up. He pushed
his finger into the thick pool of her juices then brought it
forward, deep within the folds. His breaths came in short pants.
Hers did, too. Back and front, back and front, he stroked her with
a rhythm that soothed yet excited.

Stop.

The pressure he had relieved a moment
ago, started to build again. This time, it consumed her entire
body. She tensed, her hand gripping his penis as if she held a
lifeline. He groaned and slid his finger through her slit to the
nerve bundle at the front. Oh, God, he would make her come. Why was
she letting him do this?

She trusted him.

He skimmed her clit and she gasped,
her legs giving way. She sank to her knees, and he accompanied her
to the carpet. He skimmed it again and she fell against his chest
and closed her eyes. He smelled good, clean. Adding pressure, he
flicked the nub with his nail and she jerked with a jolt of
pleasure-pain. It grew hard. Hard, like his cock.

Don't stop.

Releasing her grip, she explored his
length by feel. His breath caught, giving her another rush of
power. She only hoped the pleasure she gave him matched what he did
to her. Trying to concentrate on the supple skin of his tip, her
finger learned the shape of his hole and delighted in the drop of
moisture that seeped out.

He sent his finger back again, dipped
into the moisture that now dripped along her thigh, and came
forward for another flick. Colors blossomed behind her lids, better
than any fourth of July celebration she had ever witnessed. He
repeated the technique and she approached the pinnacle of
orgasm.

Please, don't stop.

Needing more support, she let the rope
slide off her arm to the floor and she reached around to twine her
fingers with the ones of his bound hand. His chest, so warm and
strong against her cheek, gave her a sense of security. Not sure
how, or why, she knew he would stop if she spoke the
word.

Flick. Stroke. Flick. Stroke. Flick.
She cried out as her insides shuddered with ecstasy. So
close.

"Stroke me," he said, his voice
strangled.

She sent her hand from tip to base and
back, keeping her fingers wrapped snuggling around him. At the same
time, he took her clit between his thumb and forefinger and gave it
a gentle roll then a pluck. They cried out simultaneously.
"Aa-Aa-Aa!"

Her world collapsed, the apartment
crumbling around her. Only she and this man existed in the
universe. With three quick strokes, her nub between his fingers, he
sent her over the edge. She came apart, her back arching so far it
thrust her soul into the stars. She floated, weightless in the
sparkling blackness, and then settled, quivering, back to earth and
into his embrace.

His embrace? When had he put his arm
around her? He held her close and she liked it. Damn
him.

"You defied me." Her heart wasn't in
her accusation. Even to her own ears she sounded as if she'd run a
mile.

He chuckled. "You started it." He not
only sounded winded, he still had tension in his voice.

She realized her hand continued to
hold his hard-on. He hadn't come. She had work to do.

Her muscles soft and objecting, she
forced them into motion. As much as she wanted to lay and take time
to recover from that incredible release, she had yet to deliver on
her promise of a reward. Pulling from his warmth, she picked up the
rope.

His mouth fell open for a moment in a
look of disbelief. "You're still going to bind me? After that? I
thought we'd move on to better things." He gave her a meaningful
look.

"We are," she said. "Just not the
'things' you think." Taking his other wrist, she duplicated the
other knot, repeatedly brushing the frayed end along his
cock.

With a tight voice, he asked, "Wasn't
it good for you?"

She stopped and looked him in the eye
with all seriousness. "It was so good, I can't put it in
words."

"Then let's finish. Let me make you
come again, the old-fashioned way." One side of his mouth quirked
in a half smile.

"It's about your reward, slave." His
head rocked back, as though she had slapped him, and she regretted
calling him slave. Melony folded his arm back and brought the rope
over his shoulder with a subtle caress. "I'm sorry. You deserve
better than that."

"Do I?" he asked, skepticism dropping
his voice an octave.

Grazing her fingernails across the
ridges of his abdomen, she wrapped the rope round and round before
securing a loop and measuring the end to his groin. She got to her
feet. Stepping away to get some distance from him, she put her
hands on her hips. "Have you changed your mind? We can stop if you
want."

* * * *

If Chip hadn't seen her fall apart in
his arms, he could believe she had no interest in continuing. He
did see, though. He detected an undercurrent of electricity
emanating from her. She had something in mind, something she
wanted. Or needed.

"I want to keep going. What's next?"
He shifted, his knees aching.

A small smile lifted the corners of
her lips, but she seemed to fight it. "Can you stand, or do you
need my help?"

Bringing a knee forward, he planted
his foot and heaved off the floor. His dick ached, begging to bury
itself in those glorious curls between her legs. He didn't think
she would let it get that far…this time.

"How are you doing?" she asked,
tugging and testing his bonds. Her smooth, elegant fingers drove
him crazy, traveling over him with surety and expertise.

"I'm fine."

"Let's get a little more comfortable,
shall we?" She indicated he should sit on the bed. Retrieving the
brown rope, a thinner cord made of a smoother, shinier material,
she asked, "Can I get you to crisscross your legs?"

Uh-oh. "Yes," he answered, unable to
keep reluctance from his tone.

Melony fed a bit of line to his thigh
and ran it up to his hip. He didn't miss the slight tremble in her
hand. Loving the telltale indication that his pleasuring had
affected her after all, he suppressed a smug grin.

"How does the bed feel?"

She slid the rope along the crevice
between his arm and ribs, higher to rub against the edge of his
armpit, then around the back of his neck and down the other side.
Its smooth, rich texture moved along his skin much like he imagined
her lips would feel if following the same path.

"Firm," he said, not wanting to talk
anymore. He needed her hands on him, needed relief.

She bent to tie the end of the russet
rope to the end of the brown, and her breasts spilled from the
shelf bra enough to free her nipples completely. The rosy areolas
puckered around fine, erect centers. Licking his lips, he longed to
feel them on his tongue.

When she finished the knot, she put a
hand on his chest and urged him to the mattress. "Cross your legs
with your knees pointed at the ceiling. Not too tight. I want you
comfortable."

He did as she instructed, aware every
bit of his package lay open to her scrutiny. It made him harder. He
couldn't remember ever having a hard-on for so long without being
inside a woman.

She ran the cord past his scrotum and
worked with it there, her knuckles brushing against his balls and
cock and making his eyes cross with pent up passion. If he didn't
come soon, he would implode.

Working quickly, she wrapped the rope
around his upper thigh, secured it to the opposite foot, then
repeated the lines on the other side. "Okay. Try that."

He flapped his knees and yelled out in
rapture as knots, resting on either side of the ridge running just
behind his testicles, rubbed their silken edges in heavenly
strokes. He couldn't take much more.

She draped a fresh towel across his
stomach and crawled onto the bed beside him. Whispering in his ear,
she breathed, "Do it again."

Squeezing his eyes shut, he moved his
knees slower, concentrating on the knots, and let go. Instant
relief washed over him as he shot his cum onto the terrycloth. As
he lay unmoving, part of him was grateful and impressed with her
knowledge, and part of him resented her. This seemed a mixture of
masturbation and something wholly unique to his experience. He
exhaled in frustration, not entirely accepting the
situation.