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Authors: Cindy Jacks
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muscular form moved between her legs. Bare skin at his waist touched the inside of her thighs, a pulse of arousal tugged at her core. A lush, tropical scent filled her nostrils and he pressed something sweet to her mouth. Fiona parted her lips and bit into the fruit. Juices streamed down her chin and her neck. Marcelo’s tongue laved the droplets from her skin.
She took a shaky breath, her voice faltering, but managed to say, “Passion fruit?” The golden delicacy had become one of her favorite treats. He had introduced her to a rare variety over dinner one night, feeding her from his plate.
“Mmm…that’s right.” He covered her mouth with his, tasting more than kissing. Fiona longed to touch him, to run her hands over his strong shoulders; the denial of this delight sparked a flash of desperation. When he broke away, she pulled against the ropes holding her wrists.
Marcelo chuckled, not in a cruel way, but clearly amused at her reflex to reach out for him. “It’s difficult having no control over when or how I touch you, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“But exciting?”
At this, Fiona smiled. “Yes.”
His warm laughter filled the space between them. Moving closer, he dabbed something creamy onto her lips. Licking at the substance, she moved the rich flavor over her tongue. “Chocolate frosting?”
“I can’t stump you, can I?” He peppered her with kisses, cleaning away the sticky residue.
Entwining a hand in her hair, he pulled her closer and pressed his mouth against her lips. The kiss deepened, their breath caught between them. Fiona yielded to his tongue as it searched out hers. He strayed to edge of her jaw, down the curve of her neck and settled at the cleavage that peeked out the top of her slip. One hand skipped its way along her thigh to her already wet cunt. Though she wanted to give herself over to however the night progressed, instinctively she stiffened against the intimate touch.
He didn’t speak, though she half expected a reproach. Instead his hand retreated, moving up her body to her breasts, the caresses gentle and unhurried. Finally, the kisses tapered off and he backed away from her again.
Marcelo worked the knot that held the blindfold in place.
“No,” she murmured. “The mirrors…”
“What about them?”
The black fabric fell away from her eyes and once again she saw herself, her body opened, vulnerable. Faced with her dusky pink cunt, legs spread akimbo, she flushed with both arousal and shame. He stood next to her, watching her try not to look at herself.
“I’ll be right back,” Marcelo said.
Fiona thought to object, but his retreating form gave her no opportunity to do so. She let her gaze wander around the room. The austere space gave her little distraction. A king size four-poster bed of a simple design sat off to the side, leaving most of the room as empty space except the small table next to the barstool.
She sneaked looks at her reflection. Working up the courage, she finally stared straight ahead. The sight of her own arms and legs trussed up like a marionette sent a wave of heat through her core, need drawing her pussy tight. Marcelo could do anything to her and she would be powerless to stop it. He could even ignore the safe word if he wanted to, but Fiona knew he wouldn’t. She trusted him. Still, the edge of uncertainty added to the adventure.
He returned with a bucket of ice and large candle. Once he had set them on the table, Marcelo drew a lighter from the pocket of his linen slacks. Fiona’s pulse quickened.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
Offering no explanation, he lit the candle and put the lighter away. His hands reached inside the neckline of her slip and scooped out her breasts. Stroking and nibbling at them, he worked each nipple until they drew into taut, sensitive buds.
A plume of gray smoke rose from the candle once Marcelo blew out the flame. Holding the candle several inches above, he dripped the melted wax onto her skin. At
She took a shaky breath, her voice faltering, but managed to say, “Passion fruit?” The golden delicacy had become one of her favorite treats. He had introduced her to a rare variety over dinner one night, feeding her from his plate.
“Mmm…that’s right.” He covered her mouth with his, tasting more than kissing. Fiona longed to touch him, to run her hands over his strong shoulders; the denial of this delight sparked a flash of desperation. When he broke away, she pulled against the ropes holding her wrists.
Marcelo chuckled, not in a cruel way, but clearly amused at her reflex to reach out for him. “It’s difficult having no control over when or how I touch you, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“But exciting?”
At this, Fiona smiled. “Yes.”
His warm laughter filled the space between them. Moving closer, he dabbed something creamy onto her lips. Licking at the substance, she moved the rich flavor over her tongue. “Chocolate frosting?”
“I can’t stump you, can I?” He peppered her with kisses, cleaning away the sticky residue.
Entwining a hand in her hair, he pulled her closer and pressed his mouth against her lips. The kiss deepened, their breath caught between them. Fiona yielded to his tongue as it searched out hers. He strayed to edge of her jaw, down the curve of her neck and settled at the cleavage that peeked out the top of her slip. One hand skipped its way along her thigh to her already wet cunt. Though she wanted to give herself over to however the night progressed, instinctively she stiffened against the intimate touch.
He didn’t speak, though she half expected a reproach. Instead his hand retreated, moving up her body to her breasts, the caresses gentle and unhurried. Finally, the kisses tapered off and he backed away from her again.
Marcelo worked the knot that held the blindfold in place.
“No,” she murmured. “The mirrors…”
“What about them?”
The black fabric fell away from her eyes and once again she saw herself, her body opened, vulnerable. Faced with her dusky pink cunt, legs spread akimbo, she flushed with both arousal and shame. He stood next to her, watching her try not to look at herself.
“I’ll be right back,” Marcelo said.
Fiona thought to object, but his retreating form gave her no opportunity to do so. She let her gaze wander around the room. The austere space gave her little distraction. A king size four-poster bed of a simple design sat off to the side, leaving most of the room as empty space except the small table next to the barstool.
She sneaked looks at her reflection. Working up the courage, she finally stared straight ahead. The sight of her own arms and legs trussed up like a marionette sent a wave of heat through her core, need drawing her pussy tight. Marcelo could do anything to her and she would be powerless to stop it. He could even ignore the safe word if he wanted to, but Fiona knew he wouldn’t. She trusted him. Still, the edge of uncertainty added to the adventure.
He returned with a bucket of ice and large candle. Once he had set them on the table, Marcelo drew a lighter from the pocket of his linen slacks. Fiona’s pulse quickened.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
Offering no explanation, he lit the candle and put the lighter away. His hands reached inside the neckline of her slip and scooped out her breasts. Stroking and nibbling at them, he worked each nipple until they drew into taut, sensitive buds.
A plume of gray smoke rose from the candle once Marcelo blew out the flame. Holding the candle several inches above, he dripped the melted wax onto her skin. At
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