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Handcuffed

   
     

I drank in the view as he climbed onto the bed with me. The anticipation of that fit, powerful body and those endless brown eyes took over any thoughts in my head. I wanted him naked, right now, at that moment, no questions, no discussion. His shirt was in my hands and over his head before he knew what had happened. He laughed at me while I pulled it over his shoulders, but he let me remove it. His grin disarmed me.

He was enjoying himself. The jeans would have to go next, but for now I allowed it. His half-stripped state was surprisingly erotic to me. I thought to myself that he had perhaps the most knee-weakening, amazing smile I had ever seen. Add to that his bad reputation and Harley Davidson, and I was toast. It made me feel girlish and perhaps silly to see him stretched out on my bed, half clothed and managing to look sharp in blue jeans. He really seemed to have absolutely no idea how handsome he was, although he was all man in that biker jacket. That fact added to his subtle charm. I pounced upon him, tickling him until he laughed, in one smooth motion bringing himself to a superior position above me. Before I could act, he was planting small kisses on the tender, sensitive part of my belly until the hairs there stood on end. His hand trailed lightly over my abdomen, making me tingle and tighten my stomach muscles involuntarily. Sensual ripples followed his fingers up and down the skin there. But if I thought that this would be the last surprise, I was mistaken.

"Got plans for you, girl." The lights went out, accompanied by a quick brush of something light and satiny brushing down around my neck and over my breasts. My scarf. It had been my last little touch of femininity before I went out at the beginning of the night. I'd known that he would be there, so I'd dressed my best. It paid off.

"You are such a badass, Chris. I don't know if I should have let you in this time."

He chuckled while he continued to work the scarf over my skin, then tied both of my wrists to the center of the headboard. I was extremely content with that. I could say whatever I wanted, but every time I saw Chris at the billiard table in those blue jeans and those boots, I didn't bother to delude myself- he could rock my bed all through the night if he was so inclined. He had that not-so-subtle effect on me, the ability to bring out sheer lust with just a glance. His walk had a swing and his voice had a wicked Southern drawl to it I couldn't resist.

"I'll just stay right here, then," I said. I watched Chris walk all around the bed in the semi-darkness, crossing his arms, taking in the view. I relished his enjoyment of my nakedness. His tattoos did the same for me. There would be always be something about him that made me want to strip off all of my clothes and lie at his feet.

"I'm thinking I should keep you prisoner here in your own home. I could find a lot of uses for you." Chris's mouth was next to my ear so that I could feel the vibration of his voice there. His hot breath tickled at my earlobe when he spoke.

"Yeah? What if I want to use your body too?"

"Seems to me babe, I'm not the one tied down to the bed." I could hear the quick sound of a zipper as his jeans came off. I couldn't see very well in the darkness, but the thought that he was naked and most likely erect there in the room with me made me swoon like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Every woman in my small town wanted him, but he was in my bedroom. Naked. I smiled again. His rough hands were slowly, sensuously stroking my inner thighs, a place where I love to be touched. I moaned, sighed his name when he straddled me and introduced his tongue into my mouth. I itched to slide my hands down his back and grab his firm ass, but of course I was tied still and at the mercy of his every whim. His warm hardness and dark pubic hair rubbed in a very delightful way back and forth over my midsection. He was half kissing me, half grinning wickedly as if he was getting away with something. I shuddered as Chris used all of that thick black hair on his head to graze the tips of my nipples. His day's growth of beard stubble and the heaviness of his body above me excited my already aching body to a fevered pitch. I was sweating, breathing hard, wanting him to give me what I craved. He grew slick against me as he moved back and forth on my belly, tightening his muscles with each sliding stroke.

The sound of a light snick and the clasp of cold metal made me open my eyes in surprise. With his deft, skilled hands Chris had undone my scarf and instead handcuffed one of my hands to his own wrist. He had a cat-that-ate-the-canary look on his face as he bent down and bit me on the nipple. Then without warning, he had pushed inside of me, deep and sudden and very fulfilling. He nipped at the skin of my throat and shoulder with his lips and teeth as he began to ride me with abandon. We were slick, hot, panting, groaning in pleasure together, locked wrist to wrist and closer than sin.

I begged for him to go faster, then slower, then faster again, beat at his chest with my fists as I begged, and he laughed and sped up the pace again. He reached down with his free hand and gripped me underneath him with that same mischief in his eyes, using the strength of his arm to pull me closer to him. The slow, intense rhythm of our bodies working against each other must have gone on for over an hour, but I concentrated on the feel of each filling stroke until I started to buck and spasm against him. He responded with a full-body shudder of his own, something near pain on his face until his orgasm overcame him and he moaned openly. I quivered below him, my own body reaching climax again as he thrust forcefully into me. Then, mutual pleasure subsiding into a warm glow, Chris grinned in his playful way as he reached down and tweaked my ass.

"Where's the key to the cuffs?" I asked him.

"Who said I'm leaving? You did invite me."

I nodded, blowing at the damp skin on his hairy chest. "Um...stay."

 

     

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