Free Best Bondage Erotica 2012 by Rachel Kramer Bussel Page B

across my boyish chest makes me hold back a whimper.
    â€œDon’t you dare let those little trembling fingers stop your progress or I’ll have to punish you.” She laughs and it zings up my spine until I shudder. She turns her back on me and walks to the bed. “But I know you’d enjoy that too much. So I’ll wait
until you can’t take it anymore, and then you’ll be so very, very sorry.”
    My throat tightens and I swallow past the lump. My shirt falls off my shoulders to the floor. This slow reveal keeps me from boiling over but the slow simmer makes my muscles taut with possibility. She gives me one glance over her shoulder. Her tiny pink tongue slips across her lips—the ones that should be locked on my clit until I scream—and she winks at me. That small gesture holds all the promise in my world. When my fingers start in on the button of my pants, my lover puts her foot up on the bedspread and the line of her ass—her perfectly rounded, tight ass—against her clinging dress makes me clamp down on a moan.
    When she bends over, the shadow under her short skirt hints at her smooth pussy. The sight is practically mouthwatering. There’s no way to wiggle out of my pants with dignity when I’m not supposed to stand up. But the clothing scraping against my skin only makes my obscured view of her pussy that much more tempting. Two solid thumps hit the floor—her shoes on the carpet. I arch back, naked, into my submissive stance to watch my lover reveal her body with a lingering greed that makes my pussy clench.
    One leg is revealed when Marley’s thigh-high stocking slips to the floor. Another leg and I know what her flesh would be like under my fingers: bare smooth skin with scented apricot lotion, and the city’s smog. If only I could touch.
    â€œI’ve never seen you more beautiful than you are now.” Her voice is melodious in its sincerity.
    I can’t look up, and my vision pinpricks as the light blurs. It’s not my place to answer. Yet I bite down on my tongue and stifle the urge to contradict her opinion. Her rough grip tilts up my chin, forces me to look into her tender gaze. So much that
goes unsaid rests in her eyes. Her hand cups the side of my face so I have to fight the urge to press harder into her warm palm.
    Quicker than I can gasp, her fingers tighten through my hair and she pulls back until shocks of pain switch to pleasure along my scalp, a little harsh rewriting of my synapses. My neck’s at a harsh angle and I’m sure she can see the quickening of my pulse against my flesh, an erotic beat that hits all my sexual hot spots. God, she always knows what to do to me.
    â€œYou are not to take your eyes off me.”
    â€œYes, Mistress.” My reply barely makes it out of my mouth, half strangled by urgency.
    â€œGood.”
    When she lets me go, I’m loose like an overstretched rubber band. Is she going to reverse this little striptease? I expect her to unzip the back of her dress and slip it off so I can see her expensive, see-through lingerie. Instead, she hikes it up and lies back on the bed. No expensive lingerie to be found, only her glistening juices for adornment: gorgeous.
    Marley spreads her legs and her long fingers explore across her clit as she throws her head back. She works herself with abandon, breasts heaving beneath her dress. Two fingers shift across her slick pebble in smooth circles as her hips undulate on the comforter. Forced to watch, my brain spins with longing—at war with a hope that I’ll have to hold on just a little bit longer for release.
    But her skin’s flushed like a ripe strawberry and her chorus of unburdened moans echo in her Soho loft. Three thick fingers push into her pussy, starting up a quick rhythm that matches her other hand on her hard bud and she arches into her rough strokes to take her fingers in deeper. I mentally writhe with the need to be filled like