Tied with Me (With Me in Seattle #6)(32)
Author: Kristen Proby

Matt shakes his head and laughs, rubs his hand over his mouth and watches me carefully. “Jealousy doesn’t become you. I think I might have to teach you a lesson about who is in control here, little one.”

He takes my hand and leads me over to an empty platform that has suspension chains hanging from the ceiling. He approaches one of the dungeon masters and murmurs in his ear, then turns to me with shining eyes.

“I’m going to undress you.”

My mouth drops open in surprise, but when his eyes travel the length of me, undressing me with his gaze, I bite my lip and almost strip out of my clothes myself. I start to look around the room, but he grips my chin in his fingers and holds my gaze steady.

“You’ll watch me and only me. There is no one else here but you and I, do you understand?”

I nod, but he pushes his face closer to mine.

“Words, Nic.”

“I understand.”

“What is your safe word?”

“Red.” I swallow and watch his lips as he licks them. His thumb is tracing circles on my cheek, soothing me.

“Trust me.”

“I do,” I reply and know that I feel it, to my bones. He won’t hurt me, and won’t do anything to embarrass me. I can feel eyes on me around the room, but I focus on his voice and his blue gaze.

Focus solely on him.

A man drops a large black duffel bag at Matt’s feet and discreetly backs away. Matt tucks one finger in my red, strapless top and pulls me to him, kissing me deeply, firmly. His tongue slips between my lips and laps at my mouth, exploring every inch, as his hands travel around to my back to unzip my shirt then discard it to the floor.

I’m not wearing a bra, so the cool air and Matt’s kisses, the intensity of this crazy evening, have puckered my nipples to hard points. Matt drags his hands down my chest to cup my breasts, teasing the sensitive nubs with his fingers. I’m squirming where I stand, rubbing my legs together to try to ease the ache there.

Matt nibbles his way across my jaw and whispers in my ear, “Stay still.”

My legs still, earning a grin from my demanding man.

He gently trails his fingertips along the waist of my short denim skirt, unzips it and lets it fall around my ankles, leaving me standing before him completely nude.

He sucks in a breath as his eyes roam down my body, curses under his breath and then chuckles ruefully.

“I think I’m pissed at myself for allowing these men to see what’s mine. I want to punch them all for the thoughts that I know are running through their perverted heads.”

His words warm me, make me feel sexy and strong, and I grin back at him.

“You like that, don’t you, little one?” He kisses my forehead, my nose, and then my lips. “There might be an exhibitionist in you yet.”

I swallow and gape at him. Me? No way!

“I want you to sit with your legs bent and ankles together.” He helps me to the floor and kneels before me, my toes tucked between his knees. He unzips his duffel and pulls out long lengths of red ropes.

“I like red on you,” he murmurs as he begins to loop the rope around my ankles and feet. “You can touch me while I work.”

I smile and push my fingers into his light brown hair as he bends his head over my feet, working intently.

“May I speak?” I ask softly so only he can hear me. The music is too loud for anyone else to hear us.

“Of course,” he replies.

“This is sexy.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” he says. “I’ll be checking in with you to make sure you’re comfortable. Got it?”

“Got it,” I reply. “I love how soft your hair is.”

He snickers and continues to work, looping the cord between each of my toes and back up to my ankles. When each toe is done, he twines the rope around my ankles and halfway up my calf, and then takes my hands and helps me stand.

“Bend your knees again.”

I comply, and Matt runs his hand up my inner thigh to cup my center in his hand. “Good, it’s not too tight.”

My hands are braced on his shoulders, but he grabs two loops that are hanging shoulder-width apart from the ceiling and pulls until they’re at shoulder height.

“Hold on to these so you don’t fall.”

I grip on to the loops and watch him intently. He’s begun to sweat, so he unbuttons his shirt and discards it without a thought, giving me a prime view of his gorgeous chest and abdomen.

I wish he’d turn around so I can see his firm ass in those pants.

But I know he won’t.

He won’t take his eyes off me, not while he’s got me in his ropes.

He crisscrosses the ropes, tying intricate knots, over my belly and around my back. When he walks behind me, I close my eyes, soaking in the feel of his fingers on my skin, the sound of his breaths, tuning out the eyes watching around the room.

Only him and me.

From behind me, he lays kisses across my shoulders and down my spine to my ass, where he presses kisses above each cheek, making me shiver in pleasure.

God, I want him.

I want him to make me come right here, in this room, in front of all of these people.

I want him.

The ropes loop around my breasts and over my shoulders but not around my neck.

“How do you feel?” he whispers in my ear, pressing his body along my length.

“Turned on,” I answer honestly.

“Good.”

He circles me twice, checking over his work, and when he’s satisfied that it’s not too tight and the pattern is to his liking, he approaches me and again presses his body to mine, his naked torso against my own.

“I’m going to tie your hands now,” he whispers against my lips. “If you start to lose balance, just say ‘stop,’ and I’ll readjust. You won’t fall.”

I smile softly and press a kiss to his lips. “I won’t fall.”

“God, I love this with you,” he whispers as he traces the ropes with his fingertips. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He raises my hands up over my head, and the loops I’m holding on to tighten, as though they’re on a pulley. My hands are pulled over my head, but my feet are still comfortably flat on the ground, so I’m not suspended, I’m simply stretched long. When my wrists are touching, he takes one of the loops away and has me clasp my hands together, fingers laced, holding on to just one loop, and begins to thread the ropes around my arms and hands and wrists, making his knots, watching my face. My eyes are trained on his face, enjoying the way his breath has quickened, the slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip, the way he bites his lower lip when he’s working a particularly difficult knot.