Show Me The Ropes ~ Lothario Series ~ Book 2 (5 page)

Water ran, washing his hands, she surmised, as she rested her forehead against the mirror and tried to even out her breathing. Her thighs were sticky with her own arousal. She could smell herself in the air. Yes, she would wear the new piece. One word from his lips and she’d open herself to him, anytime, anywhere.

“Get dressed. We’re going to brunch.”

“Yes, Richard.”

* * * * *

Hell. He knew the place intimately. He’d lived on it for two years. The only thing that made it bearable was the angel onboard. He couldn’t put a name to his need to torture himself and pleasure her. Today he would taste her. Wearing the labia ropes, she would be open and vulnerable. He had the place picked out, had imagined her there many times. They talked of trivial matters over brunch before he brought the conversation around to where he wanted it to be. “How do they feel?”

To her credit, she didn’t act as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. “Fine. Naughty.”

“Naughty? How?”

She glanced around, checking to see if anyone was near enough to overhear. One couple, stark naked, ate and talked as if they brunched naked in public every day, totally unselfconscious. Near the rail at the outdoor café, two men sampled brunch offerings from the naked woman sprawled across two tables. You got used to those kinds of displays on the
Lothario
. She lowered her voice so only he could hear. “Well, it feels strange I guess, to be so open. I feel like everyone should know it, sense it somehow, but then I realize only two people know, you and me.”

“Like a secret?”

“Yes, I guess that’s it.”

“All you have to do is spread your legs and our secret will be exposed. Does that turn you on, Fallon?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it if you want. We can clear the table and you can sit on the edge and open your legs and sarong and let everyone here see what I have done to you.” She ducked her head and her skin flushed with heat. “Would you like that?”

“No, Richard.”

“Spread them for me, under the table. No one can see.” Her eyes darted around again seeking assurance. He couldn’t see under the table, but he felt the air stir as she moved her legs apart a few delicious inches. “More. Open wide.” Her eyes met his, bold, as she shifted in her chair again. He smiled at her. “How does that feel?”

“Wicked.”

“Does it make you horny? I can call the waiter over and have him bring you a dildo.”

“No… please Richard, don’t.”

“I can smell you all the way over here. Your pussy is dripping, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Richard.” Her face flamed, but her eyes remained on his. He hadn’t allowed her time to clean herself before they left her cabin. He’d liked knowing this secret between them, and he’d wanted her surrender to be fresh on her mind while they ate.

He shifted, brought his foot up between her thighs, and flicked his big toe over her clit. Her eyes went wide, then closed. A little sound, a moan perhaps, escaped her parted lips before she sucked her bottom lip in and held it there with her teeth. He flicked his toe again. His eyes scanned the area to see if anyone had noticed. Assured no one had, he slid his toe down to her weeping vagina and wiggled it inside her.

“Oh God, Richard.” Her hands gripped the edge of the table. He’d gone too far, again.

“I’m getting thirsty.”
I’m past thirsty, going on dehydrated
. He dropped his foot and waited until Fallon regained some semblance of control before he rose and extended his hand. “Let’s go somewhere I can get a drink.”

 She took his hand and allowed him to guide her up several flights of stairs to a secluded deck area above the Bridge. This had been his private spot ever since the ship had first set sail. No one was allowed to use the private enclave unless he approved it. So far, he’d only approved one person to clean the deck chairs and tables once a week. Yesterday he’d made sure everything was clean and ordered a shade cloth stretched over the area.

“We won’t be disturbed here, and no one can see us. We have total privacy.” His hands went to her sarong and dropped it to the deck. “Lie down on the chaise.” She sat on the end and scooted until she rested against the slightly raised back. “Spread your legs as wide as you can.” Fallon spread her legs. Moisture glistened on her swollen folds, held open by the gold ropes he’d placed there. A flash of pain made him close his eyes and grit his teeth. The key was right there, flashing in the filtered sunlight across her chest. All he had to do was unhook it and end his torment, but not yet. Not until he proved to her how much he’d changed, and then he could tell her what he’d done, and why.

He opened his eyes against the pain and slid a few throw pillows under her hips. He drew a satin envelope from under a stack of towels and from it took three lengths of nylon rope. Her eyes went wide and she pressed her hands into the cushion as if to bolt.

“Relax. I’m going to secure your ankles and wrists to the railing.” He indicated the metal railing surrounding the small private deck. “Do you trust me, Fallon?” She was a fool if she did. He didn’t even trust himself these days.

“Yes.”

“I won’t hurt you.” That, at least, was true. “I don’t want you to have to think about staying still once I get started. This will take the decision out of your hands.” He lifted one ankle and began to wrap the rope around it in an elaborate knot. “Of course, all you have to do is say the word. You remember the word, don’t you?”

“Yes, Richard.”

He secured the first ankle, then the other and stood back to admire his work. She glistened like a fountain of honey in the desert and he wanted to fall to his knees and worship her, but he wasn’t quite through yet.

“Now your wrists, sweetheart.” He gestured for her to hold them out and she did. In a matter of minutes, he had them secured to the railing behind her head. “How does that feel?”

She tested the ropes, tugging and writhing. “I’m okay.”

“One more thing.” He reached for the satin packet one more time and pulled out a length of white satin fabric. “You need to be silent. We wouldn’t want the other passengers to hear you scream and come see what’s going on, would we?”

“No, Richard.”

“Okay, then.” He placed the gag in her mouth and tied it behind her neck. “I realize this takes away your ability to end this, so I’m going to give you this last chance to tell me to stop. I promise to bring you nothing but pleasure. Do you trust me to do that?”

She nodded.

“I promise to free you when I’m done. Do you want me to stop?”

 She shook her head and closed her eyes.

“Then let’s begin.” He dropped a kiss to her parted lips before sinking between her thighs.

The little taste he’d had yesterday had only whetted his appetite. Her alabaster skin seemed translucent in the sunlight filtering through the shade-cloth. Her exposed pussy was rosy pink and glistened with moisture. Richard placed two towels on the deck to protect his knees and dropped down, kneeling like a supplicant before the altar. A flick of his wrist freed his straining cock before he bent to his task.

* * * * *

Fallon closed her eyes against the panic setting in. Absurd, but she wasn’t at all concerned about being naked, gagged, and tied to the deck railing. The panic welling in her chest came entirely from the realization of how much she wanted to feel Richard’s mouth on her, how desperate she was for him to get on with it. Why did he insist on making sure she wanted to proceed? Any man who would truss a woman up like this surely didn’t really care one way or the other if she approved, but strangely enough, Richard did. She nodded her compliance while everything inside her screamed, begged for him to put his mouth on her.

And then he did, and the scream she’d only imagined blossomed up and caught against the gag. One swipe of his tongue, and her hips came off the pillows. She thrashed against her restraints. Before she had a chance to regain her composure, his hands gripped her thighs and he tasted her again, this time delving his tongue into her channel.

Her breath came fast and shallow, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she thanked him for the restraints, for without them she wouldn’t have been able to stand the onslaught that ensued. Everything she thought she knew, everything she’d learned about cunnilingus, had been nothing compared to what he taught her. His tongue explored, tasted, and fucked her. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, nipping when she thought she might have lost all feeling, ensuring she wouldn’t miss his next move, his next assault on her sanity. She learned the shape of his lips as he kissed her labia like a man starved for his lover’s lips. He sucked her clit, brought her to mindless orgasm, over and over again. And he only used his mouth. God help her if he touched her with any other part of his body.

Silently she begged him to end the torture, but then she’d fly into space again, secured to earth by his ropes, golden and otherwise, and that safety gave her the freedom to let loose her every inhibition. She’d never felt anything like it, had only dreamed of the shattering releases he brought her to, and even her dreams fell short of the reality. Richard Wolfe was a master of cunnilingus. He could write his own book, one ten times better than hers. The world would bow down at his feet, as she intended to do as soon as he let her loose.

* * * * *

He was risking permanent damage. If he didn’t get relief soon he might be maimed for life. One more orgasm. He needed to give her one more before he quit. Richard sucked her clit into his mouth again and bit down, hard, harder than he’d intended. He instantly soothed the hurt with his tongue and another pull of his lips. Her pussy gushed against his mouth and he plunged his tongue inside, drinking in her liquid heat.

Even while he drank from her, he managed to cover himself so she wouldn’t see. As the last tremors rocked her, he stood on weak legs and freed her. “I’ll pick you up for dinner. Be ready at eight.”

He fled as fast as he could to the private restroom he’d had built one deck below. He wrenched the door open and slid the deadbolt home before turning on the light. He kept lubricant here in case of an emergency, and this was a code red if he ever saw one. He leaned against the rosewood paneling and gently removed his sarong. His cock was purple, straining against the latticework of small gold ropes spanning it from just behind the glans to the base. The intricately wrought sleeve was locked securely to his Prince Albert piercing with a small lock, identical to the ones Fallon now wore. He could end his torment with the key, the one hanging around Fallon’s neck.

He took a moment, let his head fall back against the wall, and tried to even out his breathing. When at last he could focus, he found the tube of lubricant and squirted a generous amount into his hand. It felt cool against the angry swollen skin of his cock. He stroked the gel along the engorged length, gripping as tight as he could stand, working as quickly as possible to relieve the pressure. It took only seconds. His balls, already drawn tight, clenched, and he pitched forward. Gripping the sink with one hand, he guided his cock over the bowl and cursed through gritted teeth as he shot his pent-up need into the sink.

He staggered to the toilet and sat, bent at the waist, his elbows on his knees. He dropped his head to his hands and fisted his fingers in his hair. The doctor who fitted him with the piercing and chastity sleeve had warned him what would happen if he became too aroused. It hadn’t been too much of a problem until now. With other women, he simply remembered why he wore the cock cage and his erection withered, but with Fallon, living out his fantasies, that was a whole other story.

Fallon fumbled with the knot holding the gag in place. By the time she worked it loose and rasped out his name, Richard was gone. In the aftermath, her body trembled like an addict’s deprived of her fix. She grabbed a towel and pulled it over her body. Her pussy throbbed from his attentions. Why hadn’t he stayed? How could he do those things to her, send her into another dimension, then leave her to come back to earth alone?

One hand moved to the swollen flesh between her legs. She’d been done by a master. Nothing she’d seen or witnessed in her years of research on oral sex techniques came close to what she’d just experienced firsthand. Suddenly, her book seemed irrelevant, trivial. And she called herself an expert. What a joke. Compared to Richard she knew nothing. Clinically, her book was correct. Her research was valid, her techniques solid.

She fingered the gold ropes holding her labia major open. Naïve. She was naïve. Richard had showed her in one session where her research failed. She hadn’t taken into consideration the restraints society places on sex. When she’d seen the ropes on the mannequin, she’d wondered at why someone would want to bind another person during sex. She thought it had to do with dominance, bending someone to your will.