Page 41 of Rebound

“Brooklyn?” he repeated.

“Yes, Elijah, it’s a?—”

“Yeah, let’s not start with that again—I know where Brooklyn is. Why do you want to move there?”

“Because I like it and Amelia offered to rent me her old house. I meant it when I said I was leaving our place. Please don’t make a big deal of it. Please… just try to be happy for me.”

He went silent for a few moments, and I pictured him googling Brooklyn crime statistics with steam coming out of his ears. “Okay,” he finally said. “I will try to be happy for you. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Me or Mrs. Smith?”

He laughed. “Oh baby, most definitely Mrs. Smith. Tell her not to bother with underwear.”

Now, I’m here, wearing a slinky, low-cut black dress and no underwear. I feel slutty as hell, especially because I’m already damp between my legs. I have no idea what he has planned for me, but I’m certain I’ll enjoy it.

Once I find the right room, I pause outside for a moment, running my fingers through my hair and taking deep breaths. It’s game time. He tells me to come in after I knock, and I step inside with more confidence than I feel and close the door behind me. I’m barely in the room when he grabs hold of me. I squeal as he spins me around and pushes me face-first against the door. He presses his chest to my back and pins my hands, palms flat above my head.

He nuzzles my neck and kisses my earlobe. “Mrs. Smith. You’re late.”

“I’m not,” I protest, struggling against him. Well, no more than a few minutes.

“If I say you’re late, then you’re late. That’s your first warning. Do you understand?” He presses his hips closer, and his hard cock pushes into me.

“I understand, Mr. Smith. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now, stay where you are. I need to check that you’ve obeyed the rules.” He slowly runs his big hands down my body, slipping and sliding on the satiny fabric of my dress, exploring every curve. Being searched like this feels incredibly sexy, and I almost wish I hadn’t obeyed the rules. I wonder what he would have done to me.

He pushes the skirt of my dress up and over my thighs, exposing my bare ass. Strong hands skim my flesh and roughly palm my breasts. I cry out when he nips my bare shoulder.

“Very good. No underwear, as instructed.”

I hear a rustling sound, and then the world goes dark. I gasp and protest, but he ignores me, tying the blindfold behind my head, the fabric cool and soft. He turns me around so I’m facing him but still trapped against the door. I reach out and lay my hand on his shoulder. “Elijah, I’m not sure about this.”

I’m even more nervous now, caught between excitement and discomfort. Being unable to see makes me feel vulnerable. He gently strokes my cheekbone, then runs his fingers along my jaw. Without any visual cues, I’m surprised when he kisses me. His tongue slides into my welcoming mouth, and his hands roam my body. He tugs down one of the straps on my dress and moves his mouth there, tracing kisses along my collarbone. I lean back against the door and moan as he works me over.

I jut my hips out slightly and rub myself against him, and I’m momentarily confused when he pulls away. “Did I tell you that you could do that?” he asks.

“No, but?—”

“No, I didn’t. Second warning.”

“How many warnings do I get?” I bleat, sounding bratty even to my own ears. I’m off-balance here, and although my body is very much enjoying this, my mind is still unsure.

“As many as I choose to give you. Now, kick off those heels and remove your dress.”

I tremble at his commanding tone. He sounds like a complete stranger, and maybe that helps. With quivering hands, I pull the dress over my head and stand naked and blindfolded before him. I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing, and it’s unnerving. I shriek when I feel his hands on my ass and his breath on my neck.

“You’re shaking. Are you scared?”

“A little bit, yes. What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet.” He slides his hand between my thighs and probes me with one long finger. My legs automatically spread wider to let him in, and I lean back against him, gasping as he circles my clit with deft strokes. “You’re absolutely fucking soaked, Amber. You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“I am, yes. Please don’t stop.”

He wraps his other hand around my throat, and not seeing it coming makes it more thrilling. Then he gently squeezes, a mild restriction that drives me crazy. Everything feels heightened because of the blindfold, like all my other senses have gone into overdrive. Keeping his fingers around my throat, he kisses my neck, all the while keeping up the perfect level of pressure on my swollen clit. “Don’t come, Amber,” he whispers darkly.

“What?” I murmur, confused and hazy and too close to the edge to pull back.

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