Chapter 10
Oh my God. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to this. I hope he makes it quick before I change my mind. My heart pounds in my chest and I take a deep breath to steady my nerves.
He smiles at me and pulls me in for a tantalizing kiss. “Do you have a scarf?”
I nod.
“Actually, I need two.”
“Top dresser drawer.”
He crosses the room, naked, and I marvel at how gorgeous his body is. He catches me staring.
“Like what you see?”
“Yes.” My eyes meet his, which are filled with heat.
He picks up his phone and “Paradise” by Coldplay fills the room. He hums along as he rummages around in my drawer.
“I take it you like Coldplay,” I observe.
“No talking.”
Coffee Guy approaches with the scarves in hand. He hovers over me.
“What are you going to do with those?”
“I said no talking. Now I have to punish you.”
“Punish me?” My voice comes out panicked.
He brushes my hair aside and puts his lips to my neck. He scrapes my skin with his teeth and plants a soft kiss. The pressure becomes firmer as he takes my delicate skin in his mouth and sucks—hard. That’ll definitely leave a mark.
“I have to go to work tomorrow!”
“What part of no talking don’t you understand?” He’s about to bite the other side of my neck but I pull away.
“Close your eyes.”
I do and he wraps the scarf over my eyes, securing it in a knot at the back.
“Now place your hands above your head.” He proceeds to tie my wrists together with the other scarf.
On instinct, I try to break free but the knot is too tight.
He places a vicelike grip on my arm. “Just where do you think you’re going?”
Coffee Guy pulls me to the edge of the bed and ties my arms to the bedpost. He must have found another scarf. I can’t move and I can’t see. The feeling is terrifying.
It’s dark and I can’t see. Suddenly, there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the sharp edges of the knife.
Panic wells up in my chest and I will myself not to cry. But he doesn’t miss the tear that’s managed to escape. He immediately loosens my binds and pulls off the blindfold. When he goes to turn down the music I spring to my feet and lock myself in the bathroom. I need a few minutes to calm my nerves and regroup. I splash cold water on my face and remind myself Coffee Guy doesn’t have a sinister agenda.
I throw on a robe before coming out of the bathroom. I don’t know why I bothered because I’m already totally exposed. He’s waiting for me on my bed. I hover in the doorway, unsure of what to do.
“Come here,” he says.
I sit down beside him and begin to pull at a loose thread on my duvet cover.
“Hey, look at me.”
I can’t. I’m too embarrassed.
He tilts my chin up and I’m forced to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This was meant to be fun. But I can see that it’s not.”
I shake my head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. This is all new to me and it’s a bit overwhelming. I know I agreed to it, but I didn’t really know what I was agreeing to.” Fresh tears spill down my cheeks and I attempt to wipe them away. I’m mortified that I’m crying in front of him.
“Shh,” he says, pulling me close.
I take a few minutes to compose myself. Once I have my emotions under control I meet his gaze.
“You can go at any time.”
“Go? Why would I leave?”
“Because I’m a mess. And this isn’t what you signed up for.”
“Let me tell you something. I know we’ve only known each other for a short time. But I feel a connection with you I haven’t felt with anyone since Callie.”
“Oh.”
“And that Starbucks I used to see you at, it wasn’t the closest one to where I lived. But I was in the neighborhood once and saw you. I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. There was something about you that intrigued me. After that I went there each morning, hoping to see you. You gave me something to look forward to, Ms. Coffee.”
I don’t know how to respond. I want to tell him I looked forward to seeing him every day too. But instead I change the subject.
“Why do you want to restrain me?”
“It’s not so much about restraint. It’s about heightening your senses. Blocking out your other senses heightens the rest. I want you to focus on your sense of touch. And how it feels when I touch you.”
I stare at him and my eyes fall to his hands, which are strong and masculine. And very capable. I know this from experience. I crave his touch. As if sensing this, he places his hand on mine, linking our fingers together.
“I do want you,” I tell him. “It’s not something I’m used to—it’s a lot to take in.”
“I know the feeling.” He kisses my palm then stands up and pulls on his boxers.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed. We can just talk for a bit.”
I bite my lip.
“I think I’m done with talking.”
He looks at me and shakes his head.
“I’m OK. Really. I want to do this.”
“I can’t. Not after your reaction.”
“What if you didn’t tie me up? That’s the part I was reacting to. But I’m OK with the blindfold.” I retrieve it from the bed and hold it out to him. Then I slip the robe from my shoulders.
“You’re making it hard to say no, among other things.”
I look down and smile.
Then I’m washed in total darkness as he takes the blindfold and once again secures it over my eyes.
“We’ll take it slow,” he says.
I lick my lips in anticipation.
“I’ll be right back.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, wondering what he plans to do to me. I hear him open my freezer and then the clink of ice cubes in a glass. Before he speaks I know he’s returned. I can sense his presence even though I can’t see him.
“Lie down.”
I do as he says.
I hear him strike a match and the scent of lavender fills the room. He’s found my candles. He straddles me and kisses my lips, running a trail with his tongue down to my navel. Suddenly, a cold sensation touches my lips. The ice cube. He traces my mouth with it and then slowly drags it across my breast, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake. I inhale sharply as he circles my nipple. My body breaks out in goosebumps from the cold. He takes more ice cubes and glides them across my body. He appears to be writing invisible words. I wish I could decipher his message.
The scent of lavender is heavy in the room. As the heat from a drip lands on my skin, I realize he’s holding the candle over me. He lets the wax fall on the parts that are slightly numbed from the cold. I’m about to cry out but he immediately blows the wax until it hardens. It surprisingly doesn’t burn, it was just unexpected. The contrast of hot and cold leaves my skin tingling. He covers my breasts with wax, and as it hardens, he grazes his teeth across my skin to peel it away. It becomes a game. I wait in anticipation to see what he’ll do next. Surprisingly for someone who always needs to be in control, I’m fine with not knowing.
“You doing OK?” he asks in a low voice.
“Yes. I’m liking your fantasy.”
“You know what I’d really like? To watch you touch yourself.”
I go stock still. He can’t be serious. I shake my head.
“I want to see how you like to be touched.”
“You know how I like to be touched.” He’s impossible. “I can’t,” I say as he takes my hand in his.
“Please,” he whispers as he spreads my legs apart. “Just trust me. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. I’ll help, and if you decide it’s too much we’ll stop. But I don’t think you’ll want to.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
He takes my silence as acquiescence and places our hands on my stomach with mine on top and caresses me with feather-light touches. He moves our joined hands down and massages my most sensitive parts. After a few minutes he slips his fingers inside me. So far he’s doing all of the work. I relax because I think maybe I’m off the hook. But then he switches our hands so mine is on the bottom. But he’s still in charge. I follow his movements as he guides my hand. He knows just where to touch me—the feeling is pure ecstasy. The blindfold helps because it’s blocking out everything else, heightening my other senses, like he said. He’s relentless, moving our fingers in small circles, stroking me with increasing pressure. I’m getting so close. It’s hard to know where he begins and I end. I lose my sense of rational thought and focus on his touch, my touch, and the slow burn that’s beginning to build between my legs.
He makes a noise and I turn my head but can’t see through my blindfold. I listen and realize it’s the sound of him stroking himself, which means his hands are no longer on me. I pause and he’s instantly aware of my hesitation.
“Baby, keep going.” His voice is thick with need.
So I do. I rub myself with one hand while the other goes to my breast. I pretend my hands are his and mirror his actions from earlier. I pinch my nipple and it hardens from my touch.
“Oh yeah,” he breathes.
I love knowing that I’m turning him on.
“Pretend that I’m fucking you.”
Again I hesitate. “I’ve never done that before.”
He guides my hand where he wants me. I slip a finger inside, surprised by how ready I am.
“How does it feel?”
“Warm. And wet. So, so wet.”
He groans. “Keep going. I’m not going to last much longer.”
I pull out and insert two, then three fingers. A small whimper meets my lips and I buck my hips forward. His breathing grows more ragged, his movements become more vigorous. I can hear the sounds his hand makes as he strokes himself. I get a thrill knowing watching me turns him on.
My movements become faster and more urgent. A pulsating heat spreads between my legs. With a tremble I find my release and cry out.
“I want to see you,” I tell him as I catch my breath. He takes off the blindfold. I watch as his fist pumps the length of his shaft, the tip glistening with his arousal.
“I need to be inside of you. Now.”
He quickly puts on a condom then pins me down on the bed. He rides me. Hard. His fingers are digging into my skin from the force of his hold, but I like it. He grunts as he thrusts deep inside me. I twist my fingers in his hair, frantic to pull him closer. It’s as if we have this insane need to possess one another. He jerks his hips forward and with a sharp hiss lets go. His head falls against my chest as he catches his breath. After a few minutes he pulls out then rolls the condom off and adds it to the growing pile in my trash can. I’m about to sit up but he pushes me back down.
“Place your hands above your head. I won’t tie you up this time. But don’t move them.”
“What are you doing?”
“Fulfilling my promise.”
He puts his head between my legs and explores me with his tongue. My body is already so sensitized, it only takes minutes for me to orgasm. But he doesn’t stop.
“OK,” I pant. But he keeps going. The feeling is getting so intense. I need him to stop. He ignores my feeble protests. He teases me, alternating between his hands and mouth. I try to close my legs, but he won’t let me. My mind and body are at odds. I don’t know why I’m fighting it. I guess I’m scared to completely surrender myself to him. I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff, but I keep one foot rooted in place, scared to fall over the edge. Then I hear a buzzing sound. It looks like the scarves aren’t the only thing he’s found in my drawer. He inserts my mini massager and when it touches my G spot I swear it’s as if he’s lit an inferno.
“Come for me, baby.”
I let go. I cry out as an intense orgasm washes over me. My body throbs from the force of my release. But he keeps on, relentless, pushing through my orgasm. The vibrations against my pulsating heat overwhelm me and I completely lose control. My body spasms and spots of light dance before my eyes. Then I’m falling. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me and my body turns to liquid. It’s an intensity like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
He moves my wrists down to my sides then lies next to me while I slowly find my way back to reality. If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.