The Bound Heart (12 page)

“That was just to start.” Jamie whispered, slowly straightening her and stepping away from her back.

Her eyes were half closed and her skin felt alive, as if every part of her was awake and could feel everything, even the movement of air. The soft touches he gave her as he moved past her. The rope, a second lover, as it lay heavy over her shoulders.

Her body hummed, and her sex throbbed in the aftermath of pleasure.

Jamie stood in front of her, naked, legs slightly apart his cock, hard and erect. There was no modesty, no embarrassment at his state. He was comfortable like this was his world.

Desire etched deep in his face. No reserved and moody Mr. Edwards. No, this man was crackling with forces that spoke of possession, want, and sex.

Her fingers curled around her rope.

“Stretch your arms out in front of you. Hold them two inches apart, palms facing.”

Sluggish limbs responded as she lifted then.

He stepped forward; bound her wrists and up her forearms forming a thick, soft, cuff. A sheath of rope holding her arms together.

The sensation was comfortable. Comforting. And something else… something deeply pleasurable. Maybe because it was like a lovers clasp, like hands holding her arms immobile. Possessive. Controlling.

Her shoulders relaxed and her nipples pebbled as his finger ran over her skin.

The rope was curled around her legs from the small circles he had danced her in. As he gently drew the rope, it wrapped around her feet, snaked up her legs and thighs, up her back and over her shoulder as he very slowly pulled it to glide over her skin.

Its path was a soft silken caress, a slide of a lover’s hand as it circled her body.

The rope drew near her shoulder and his hand reached out and clasped the end.

Then quickly he threaded the rope through his hands till he got to the middle and tied a knot so the middle was a loop. He slipped it over her head,

“Put your arms behind your head. Rest the cuff against the back of your neck.”

Jamie helped her. The position straightened her posture so her breasts were proudly displayed.

Pleasure marked his face as he looked at her.

He cupped her breast, squeezed, tugged at her nipple.

“Do your wrists feel all right? Any pinching?” his voice was a counter to the raw beauty of him as he work the rope, worked her.

His body’s hot touches and presses as he moved around her.

“No. No pinching.” No, she wanted more, wanted to feel that soft cuff of rope over her body, around her chest, her belly, and between her legs again.

The rope was an unexpected feel. It spoke to a deep part of her deep, somewhere very basic that liked the surety of the ropes guidance, its hug, its unrelenting hold.

“Fall into it, let it shape you.”

She nodded.

His eyes softened.

Jamie walked around behind her, and put the center of the loop in her hands to hold.

Then he came back and lifted the knot so it came down just above her breasts. He tied another knot a couple of inches down, right between her breasts then another, two more, the second over her belly button then another two; the last, he tugged to be right over her sex.

But instead of placing the rope he dropped down on his knee, then bent so his face was at her sex. His fingers touched her mound, a finger slid over her tight, sensitive peak. He pressed the knotted rope over her sex, pulsed it at her entrance.

All the tight tension rushed back into her muscles, the languid after haze of pleasure receded as need took over again.

Each pulse of the rope as it pressed into her, pushed at the lips of her sex making her ache, making her want whatever was coming next.

His breath brushed against her belly, her sex, in soft puffs of heat.

Around them her musky fragrance washed the air.

He breathed in then rubbed his face against her, a deep intimate press as his nose, his cheek pressed between her legs. A hot, thick, heat touched her as the flat of his tongue licked firmly over her, up the length of her sex. And then he did it again.

Her flesh, already so sensitive, pulsed under his mouth.

“Open your legs.” His voice was muffled by her flesh as he licked again.

Her heart beat faster.

She moved her legs apart.

“Wider.”

Her breathing wavered but she moved them wider.

His tongue pressed between her lips. Then up around her peak sending shivers of need through her body.

“Rock your hips into my face, Olive.”

Her chest rose and fell faster.

She tilted her hips and his tongue moved up and down over her. She moved her hips. Moved them over his face as he pressed closer, as his hands came between her legs and his fingers pulled her lips open for his tongue.

The pressure built, her legs started to quiver as her muscles tightened.

Olive lifted her bound hands back up over her head and brought them to rest on his head to steady herself. Her fingers clutched into his hair as her hips flexed faster against his face.

A growl rumbled out into the air as his hands pushed her thighs wider again.

Her breath hitched as he placed the knot at her entrance and pulsed it. Flicked her burning flesh with his tongue at the same time. Her whole body tightened, her sex throbbing as the rope pressed intimately into her; as the heat of his tongue, the hot press pushed her over.

Nearly there, she arched her hips against him. Nearly… there, his tongue pushed into her, the ridges of his face against her fold, his tongue moved up over her peak and his teeth nip it.

She screamed.

Pleasure shattered through her, ran out over her whole body, her back arching, her fingers clench with her release.

She couldn’t stand any longer.

In seconds Jamie was up and lowering her to the mat.

“Can you kneel?” His voice was soft.

She could barely nod.

Her body was drowning in hazy pleasure. Soft waves of pleasure washed through her body. Every touch of his skin against her was heightened. The rope pressing into her, a lover in its own right.

Jamie lifted her hands back over her head so the cuff rested on her neck.

He kneeled with her as he worked; the rope threaded between her legs then up her back to the top of the loop she was holding, his fingers pulled the rope through the opening. The soft fibrous cord scuttled up her back as he drew it tighter, vibrating the chain of knots as the rope traveled over itself. It sent the most delicate and powerful vibrations through the knots pressed against her over-sensitized skin.

“Now sit down.”

Olive sat down on the tatami mats; the cool weave pushed against her bottom. Jamie sat behind her, his arms coming from behind. His body so close, so hot. His cock hard and erect brushed her lower back as he moved his legs on either side of her, wrapping her with his body as he wrapped her with the rope.

He pulled and threaded the rope through the loops between the knots that ran down the center of her body. Each time, he wrapped an end of the rope around her back and then to the front forming a diamond pattern down the front of her and encasing her in the rope.

Every movement eased her deeper into a dream like feeling.

Relaxed.

Safe.

Like her body was in a soft brace created by the rope and by his body.

His arms brushed her breasts. He stroked her flesh as he handled the rope, fingers slid under the rope, deftly tugged and drew ropes around them. His movements, sure, gentle, and firm, guided the rope; tugged it, testing the tension, making sure it was tight, but not too tight.

Had her body ever felt so light, so full of pleasure and desire at the same time.

Men had never made her feel like this before. Men had never taken so much time to ensure her pleasure, to touch her to hold her. The rope became a language for something else, for a deeper communication. As if thought and feelings were coming from him through the rope. She heard them, felt them and her heart ached at their beauty.

The soft hairs on his chest brushed her shoulders. His breath tickled as he leaned over her to see what he was doing in the front, and then on her back as he leaned away slightly to work on the rope behind her.

A part of her said she shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t want a man to tie her like he did; but she didn’t feel that. Instead, she was floating. Dizzy in the rope’s embrace, in the feel of him as he touched her. As that language hidden in the rope wooed her.

“Jamie,” she pleaded as he leaned in again.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” His voice echoed from far away.

“Jamie.”

Her heart pounded, with excitement, with need and a touch of fear. He was too close to everything she ever wanted. He could break her and never know it.

His lips brushed over her cheek as he pulled the rope through a loop. “Just breathe, Olive. I have you.”

A ragged sound enfolded them.

It was her dragging in the air deeply, intensely.

“You’re safe. I have you.”

The rope hugged her and every muscle relaxed into it. It held her in its comforting squeeze. Her head was light. The world lifted away.

“Breathe, focus on my touch; focus on the rope.”

The words, his voice were deep and sure. Something to hold onto.

She wanted to say something; but speech was no longer possible, just the ability to focus on the sensations. The feel of the rope, of him, of her own body singing with relaxed pleasure.

All the time his voice crooned. He murmured praise as she moved with all of the small directions of his hands and fingers moving her as he worked.

“That’s it. Have a look, Olive.”

Olive looked down her body. It resembled a tortoise shell pattern wrapped around her body, a lattice of diamonds. The knots pressed into her, the last knot right over her sex. As he moved her, rocked her, the rope rubbed and pressed making sure she never lost the edge of desire, that the pleasure she had already experienced was kept in her body and in her mind.

“I think it really is my turn, Olive.”

At his words, her muscles tightened. Her heart beat faster.

“Do you want to change your mind? We can stop here?”

He wanted her. The press of his cock at her back told her that.

“No, no, I want you to keep going.”

Behind her, she felt the tension ease out of him. Then he moved from behind her; and immediately, she felt the loss of his heat from around her. But the rope was still there hugging her, holding her, giving her confidence.

She wanted to be the one to hold his need, have her body take his desire, wrap around him with each thrust.

In fast sure movements. He bound her legs, each separately, kneed bent, calf to thigh, tight tugs, that warranted no movement, not give.

Jamie lifted her hands over her head, guided her to lie on her stomach and placed a small, red cushion for her to rest her cheek on.

Her legs tied as they were, made her knees touch the matting and her bottom up in the air. He positioned her so her legs were out wide from her body.

He move to where her hands lay above her head, a rope in his hand. He took her cuffed hands and tied the new rope through them pulled her hands out in front of her and tied the long rope to the upright at the end of the matting.

She was face down, arms tied out in front of her, rope tied around her body in a tortoise shell pattern with a knot pressed against her sex, her thighs and calves tied together making her half kneel with her hips in the air.

She was exposed to his gaze, bound, her body already saturated with the heaviness of pleasure soaking every muscle making her lose open. The rope as it held her the soft squeeze as she breath, the press at her sex meant she had never come off the edge, had felt the pleasure and never suck down and cooled off. Instead she was hungrier for him, wanted what would come next despite the uncertainty.

Her heart pounded, her sex ached her skin was burning t feel his touch.

The touches, the knots, the rope built her need all she wanted was him, to feel him slip into her and move.

Jamie moved over to the tray. Picked up a sheath and rolled it on. He lifted a small jar and rubbed some of the contents over the sheath making his cock glisten.

She really didn’t care where he would penetrate her body now, only that he do it. Her skin was on fire, her legs ached with the tight bonds, all thoughts down to them and her sex.

Then she felt he was kneeling down between her legs. Tension began creeping into her body as she looked back at him. His eyes dark, his mouth a soft sensuous curl as he looked at her tied in his ropes.

Her heart beat rapidly. His fingers slid over her dark place and circled round and round.

Her blood pounded in her ears. Cool liquid trickled between the folds of her bottom.

Her head spun.

“Trust me, Olive. Trust me to make it good for us both.”

His hair tickled her shoulder as he leaned over her back and his lips settled next to her ear.

She whimpered. The feel of his fingers was waking a dark, forbidden longing.

All her focus was on his fingers, his soft wonderful voice whispering for her to relax. The warmth between her legs waking her up again in a deeper, scarier way.

“That’s it, Olive, relax.”

His finger slid in. And just like the first time in the parlor her body rippled.

It felt…strange…but good as he slid it, in and out, and then, in again.

He pulled back his hand resting on her back as a second finger joined the first.

Her sex throbbed, neglected and hungry at the attention elsewhere.

He moved his fingers in and out, until she started to rock into his hand wanting more.

A third finger pressed in and continued his motions as she pushed her knees out wider lifting her hips high.

She was panting, as he pulled out.

His hand rubbed over her bottom cheeks and the thick head of him, slick with the ointment he had covered over the sheath pressed at her entrance. And he started to push in.

Slowly, she pushed back and easily he glided in. Thick and hard, he moved in, inched in deeper. A full, deep, stretching.