fine,” she acknowledged. “Then I promise to be bad.”
“That I can believe.”
Tristy lifted her leg and rubbed it against his thigh. “You
just need to stop fighting so much.”
“I’m doing this for both of us.”
“Why? Because you’re worried your super sex powers will turn
me into a walking zombie?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She laughed. “Trust me, you could never hurt me. It’s not in
your nature.”
“You aren’t submissive.”
“I sure liked what we did before,” she countered.
“That was…different.”
He was trying to avoid the movements of her body, the press
of her pelvis. The sheet was bunched between them but that was little
protection. He might have her pinned but the price was a forced closeness
between them. Grant was as trapped as she was.
“I’m serious, Tris.”
The way he talked—the stern but loving tone—made her even
wetter. He cared about her. Outside of bed and in it.
“Make love to me again,” she said.
“No. And don’t try to change my mind.”
“Tie me,” she said. “Spank me, whatever you have to.”
“Damn it, Tris.”
Was she making it hard on him? Good. She wanted it to be
impossible.
“We owe each other tonight. The whole night,” she
pointed out their semi-agreement from earlier. “No weirdness in the morning.”
He frowned but she could tell he was thinking.
“There is one thing we could try.”
“Anything,” she urged.
“Don’t move,” he said as he released her and lifted off her.
“Where am I going to go? It’s not like I have any hot
dates.” She giggled, nervous excitement getting the better of her again.
“Lucky for both of us, we barely survived your last one.”
Which is why I need to start dating you. “I ought to
have you go after some of these losers. Or better still put the fear of God
into them ahead of time.”
“I would rather they not come around at all,” he said.
She watched him at his dresser, the broad shoulders, the
tight waist and perfectly formed buttocks. More than enough to scare off one of
her dates from hell.
The fact that he was a cop on top of everything else didn’t
hurt either. Every morning Tristy would listen, hear him leaving and she would
say a quick, secret prayer and hope he’d be okay.
And she would try to be around when he got back too. He
worked odd hours. She tried to keep track of shifts without letting him know
she was doing it. It was kind of sad that no one was there to welcome him home
each time and kiss him goodbye. No police officer should have to go out there
alone like that.
But he seemed to like it just fine.
And she wasn’t his type so she didn’t push it. So why did
she miss him when they weren’t together and why did she feel herself light up
when they were?
Grant came back from the dresser with a blindfold and some
silk cords.
“What?” he said.
She must have been staring. “Nothing,” she said, moist eyed.
“If you want to go, say the word.”
“No,” she said forcefully. “I want to stay.”
“Okay then. I need you to close your eyes and lift your
head.”
The blindfold was velvet and it felt exquisite going on. The
material smoothed over her eyes, bathing her world in total darkness.
And total vulnerability too.
Now she was dependent.
And helpless.
Oh god, it was exquisite.
She could hear Grant—his steady breathing, the warmth of his
body—her every sense heightened. He was sitting on the edge of the bed right
beside her. “This is some light bondage, to give you an idea.”
The cords were slipped over each of her wrists. It was a
gentle but tight sensation, a strange mix. She could feel the ropes pulling
tight. He must have been tying them to the bedposts.
What about my legs? Tristy wondered. Will he tie
them as well?
No. He had a different plan in mind for them.
A different, more subtle kind of bondage.
He made her pretend .
Not being tied was just as bad, if not worse, than being
tied. Because as he began
“That I can believe.”
Tristy lifted her leg and rubbed it against his thigh. “You
just need to stop fighting so much.”
“I’m doing this for both of us.”
“Why? Because you’re worried your super sex powers will turn
me into a walking zombie?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She laughed. “Trust me, you could never hurt me. It’s not in
your nature.”
“You aren’t submissive.”
“I sure liked what we did before,” she countered.
“That was…different.”
He was trying to avoid the movements of her body, the press
of her pelvis. The sheet was bunched between them but that was little
protection. He might have her pinned but the price was a forced closeness
between them. Grant was as trapped as she was.
“I’m serious, Tris.”
The way he talked—the stern but loving tone—made her even
wetter. He cared about her. Outside of bed and in it.
“Make love to me again,” she said.
“No. And don’t try to change my mind.”
“Tie me,” she said. “Spank me, whatever you have to.”
“Damn it, Tris.”
Was she making it hard on him? Good. She wanted it to be
impossible.
“We owe each other tonight. The whole night,” she
pointed out their semi-agreement from earlier. “No weirdness in the morning.”
He frowned but she could tell he was thinking.
“There is one thing we could try.”
“Anything,” she urged.
“Don’t move,” he said as he released her and lifted off her.
“Where am I going to go? It’s not like I have any hot
dates.” She giggled, nervous excitement getting the better of her again.
“Lucky for both of us, we barely survived your last one.”
Which is why I need to start dating you. “I ought to
have you go after some of these losers. Or better still put the fear of God
into them ahead of time.”
“I would rather they not come around at all,” he said.
She watched him at his dresser, the broad shoulders, the
tight waist and perfectly formed buttocks. More than enough to scare off one of
her dates from hell.
The fact that he was a cop on top of everything else didn’t
hurt either. Every morning Tristy would listen, hear him leaving and she would
say a quick, secret prayer and hope he’d be okay.
And she would try to be around when he got back too. He
worked odd hours. She tried to keep track of shifts without letting him know
she was doing it. It was kind of sad that no one was there to welcome him home
each time and kiss him goodbye. No police officer should have to go out there
alone like that.
But he seemed to like it just fine.
And she wasn’t his type so she didn’t push it. So why did
she miss him when they weren’t together and why did she feel herself light up
when they were?
Grant came back from the dresser with a blindfold and some
silk cords.
“What?” he said.
She must have been staring. “Nothing,” she said, moist eyed.
“If you want to go, say the word.”
“No,” she said forcefully. “I want to stay.”
“Okay then. I need you to close your eyes and lift your
head.”
The blindfold was velvet and it felt exquisite going on. The
material smoothed over her eyes, bathing her world in total darkness.
And total vulnerability too.
Now she was dependent.
And helpless.
Oh god, it was exquisite.
She could hear Grant—his steady breathing, the warmth of his
body—her every sense heightened. He was sitting on the edge of the bed right
beside her. “This is some light bondage, to give you an idea.”
The cords were slipped over each of her wrists. It was a
gentle but tight sensation, a strange mix. She could feel the ropes pulling
tight. He must have been tying them to the bedposts.
What about my legs? Tristy wondered. Will he tie
them as well?
No. He had a different plan in mind for them.
A different, more subtle kind of bondage.
He made her pretend .
Not being tied was just as bad, if not worse, than being
tied. Because as he began