being?’
‘I hadn’t made any plans at all,’ says Marc. ‘Except to fuck you in the back of this limo.’
‘Here?’ I whisper.
‘You had no complaints before.’
‘I did, if you remember.’
‘Ah yes.’ Marc slides my hair behind my shoulder and starts running his lips along my neck.
I shiver.
‘Our first argument,’ Marc murmurs against my skin. ‘I remember it fondly.’
‘What else d o you remember?’ I whisper, melting as his lips do their work.
‘F ucking you that night, even though I swore I wouldn’t. Being amazed by how irresistible you were. How you broke down my self control.’
‘You were pretty tough to break ,’ I say, feeling shivers run down my neck as Marc works around it, grazing the skin with his lips. He pushes his lips firmly against my throat and sucks gently.
I give a little unexpected ‘ oh ’ as the pressure does its work.
Marc sucks harder, running his tongu e back and forth. Then he slides my coat from my shoulders until it’s bunched up behind my back.
Underneath I’m wearing a long red sweater and my usual skinny jeans – dark black today. I’m not wearing Converse, though. It’s too cold. Instead, I’ve chosen scrunched up grey ankle boots in suede leather.
Marc works both hands under my buttocks and pulls me too him, kneeling higher so the hardness at his groin presses between my legs.
H e pulls off his tie in one elegant movement and holds it up in front of me. ‘Hold out your wrists.’
21
‘Marc, really? Here?’
‘Now,’ Marc barks .
Oh god. It’s such a turn on when he takes charge of me.
Obli gingly, I hold my wrists out, and Marc takes them in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the delicate white skin. He presses his thumbs tight against my pulse points until I let out a little moan.
His eyes hold me, watching me with such intensi ty that my insides are turning softer and softer.
Still looking straight into my eyes , Marc presses the insides of my wrists together and holds them tight with one strong hand. Then he strokes the tie back and forth over the backs of my hands, teasing me.
‘Are you going to tie me up?’ I whisper , feeling hot to the point of exploding.
‘Do you want me to?’ Marc asks, with a quirky tilt of his lips.
‘Yes.’
‘Then tell me .’
‘ I want you to tie me up.’
M arc groans, and his eyes cloud over, going all soft and carnal. His lips drop open. ‘God, I love hearing you say that…’
He looks down at my wrists and wraps the tie tight around them, pulling the two ends hard so my wrists snap against each other. Then he ties a complicated knot with a long, loose end.
‘Another quick re lease knot?’ I say, my voice hoarser than ever.
‘Of course ’
‘You must have been a great boy scout.’
‘Funnily enough, I never joined.’
‘So wh ere did you learn to tie knots?’ I ask.
‘Someone taught me.’
‘Who?’
‘A woman.’
‘Oh.’
Marc runs his fingers up and under the sleeves of my red sweater, slowly and gently. ‘It’s okay. It’s not what you think. I worked backstage when I was a teenager. Between acting jobs. I’d help set up the stage and move equipment. There are a lot of knots backstage. The stage manager gave me a first class course in knot tying.’
He moves his han ds back down to my wrists. ‘It was very useful training.’
‘I guess it would be ,’ I murmur, feeling his fingers through the cool silk of his tie.
‘God,’ Marc moans, gazing at my bound wrists. ‘You look so good tied up like that.’
I feel him throb between my legs.
He fixes those deadly blue eyes on me, then in one swift movement he lifts my arms high above my head.
‘Oh!’
He’s bound my wrists in just the right way, so when they’re above my head they feel like they belong there.
T here must be a suit hook in this part of the car, because when Marc lifts my wrists they catch on something, and when he lets them go, I’m held in place.
I pull my wrists left and right
‘I hadn’t made any plans at all,’ says Marc. ‘Except to fuck you in the back of this limo.’
‘Here?’ I whisper.
‘You had no complaints before.’
‘I did, if you remember.’
‘Ah yes.’ Marc slides my hair behind my shoulder and starts running his lips along my neck.
I shiver.
‘Our first argument,’ Marc murmurs against my skin. ‘I remember it fondly.’
‘What else d o you remember?’ I whisper, melting as his lips do their work.
‘F ucking you that night, even though I swore I wouldn’t. Being amazed by how irresistible you were. How you broke down my self control.’
‘You were pretty tough to break ,’ I say, feeling shivers run down my neck as Marc works around it, grazing the skin with his lips. He pushes his lips firmly against my throat and sucks gently.
I give a little unexpected ‘ oh ’ as the pressure does its work.
Marc sucks harder, running his tongu e back and forth. Then he slides my coat from my shoulders until it’s bunched up behind my back.
Underneath I’m wearing a long red sweater and my usual skinny jeans – dark black today. I’m not wearing Converse, though. It’s too cold. Instead, I’ve chosen scrunched up grey ankle boots in suede leather.
Marc works both hands under my buttocks and pulls me too him, kneeling higher so the hardness at his groin presses between my legs.
H e pulls off his tie in one elegant movement and holds it up in front of me. ‘Hold out your wrists.’
21
‘Marc, really? Here?’
‘Now,’ Marc barks .
Oh god. It’s such a turn on when he takes charge of me.
Obli gingly, I hold my wrists out, and Marc takes them in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the delicate white skin. He presses his thumbs tight against my pulse points until I let out a little moan.
His eyes hold me, watching me with such intensi ty that my insides are turning softer and softer.
Still looking straight into my eyes , Marc presses the insides of my wrists together and holds them tight with one strong hand. Then he strokes the tie back and forth over the backs of my hands, teasing me.
‘Are you going to tie me up?’ I whisper , feeling hot to the point of exploding.
‘Do you want me to?’ Marc asks, with a quirky tilt of his lips.
‘Yes.’
‘Then tell me .’
‘ I want you to tie me up.’
M arc groans, and his eyes cloud over, going all soft and carnal. His lips drop open. ‘God, I love hearing you say that…’
He looks down at my wrists and wraps the tie tight around them, pulling the two ends hard so my wrists snap against each other. Then he ties a complicated knot with a long, loose end.
‘Another quick re lease knot?’ I say, my voice hoarser than ever.
‘Of course ’
‘You must have been a great boy scout.’
‘Funnily enough, I never joined.’
‘So wh ere did you learn to tie knots?’ I ask.
‘Someone taught me.’
‘Who?’
‘A woman.’
‘Oh.’
Marc runs his fingers up and under the sleeves of my red sweater, slowly and gently. ‘It’s okay. It’s not what you think. I worked backstage when I was a teenager. Between acting jobs. I’d help set up the stage and move equipment. There are a lot of knots backstage. The stage manager gave me a first class course in knot tying.’
He moves his han ds back down to my wrists. ‘It was very useful training.’
‘I guess it would be ,’ I murmur, feeling his fingers through the cool silk of his tie.
‘God,’ Marc moans, gazing at my bound wrists. ‘You look so good tied up like that.’
I feel him throb between my legs.
He fixes those deadly blue eyes on me, then in one swift movement he lifts my arms high above my head.
‘Oh!’
He’s bound my wrists in just the right way, so when they’re above my head they feel like they belong there.
T here must be a suit hook in this part of the car, because when Marc lifts my wrists they catch on something, and when he lets them go, I’m held in place.
I pull my wrists left and right
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