He undid his tie, with quick, practiced fingers.
"Kneel," he said, a little breathless. I did, facing him, but he shook his head. With his
finger, made the gesture to turn.
I shuffled around, turning my back to him. Crouched down on the floor behind me, he
wound the tie around my wrists, binding it just tight enough to be sure I couldn't slip out. As
if I would. Then, he walked around so we were facing each other.
Already I ached, the air tense and thick with need, and my thighs were pressed together
hard enough to make me hotter, but not hard enough to bring any relief. I needed. Urgently.
What, it didn't matter. His fingers, his tongue, his thick length buried inside me, whatever it
took to douse this fire before it drove me insane.
He unzipped, inches from my face. My mouth watered at the sight of him, and if I'd
been capable of being embarrassed in that moment, I would have been. But we were far past
that now. I tilted forward, my neck curving back a little, exposing my throat. Trying to reach
him.
He made a soft noise. A scold, I thought. I froze, staring up at him. His eyes glittered
dark.
"Beg," he whispered.
His whole body was one long taut need. I knew the feeling. But he was holding back,
just to gratify something in him that needed, even more, to see me humbled before him. To
know that I was choosing this. To thrill at my coy submission, though at any moment I could
choose to stand up and demand to be treated as an equal.