Page 57 of Fighting for Her Heart
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
“Completely.” He rakes his hand through his luscious dark hair. “It is me whom I do not trust.”
I nod. “Before you take my vein, will you let me touch you?”
His head tips to the side. “You are already touching me at this moment. I am not certain why you are asking for my permission.”
My hand traces down the center of his chest and then around his belly button. His abs contract, his six-pack solidifying and growing even more structured under my touch. “I want to explore your body…your entire body—unencumbered.”
“Unencumbered?” His head tips to the side. “How are you currently encumbered?”
“I’m not.” Looking up into his eyes, I grin. “Butyoucan move.”
“If you don’t want me to move, I will not.”
I pick up one of the ropes. “I’d like to be sure of that.”
His eyes widen with interest, then go darker and his breaths grow heavier as I remove his shirt and drag the end of the rope over his torso.
“I thought you did not want to bind me,” he says, his voice thick with desire.
“I don’t. Not in a way that willhurtyou.” And not in a way that will completely restrict him either. Not like what Axe did to him at Zuben’s request. “I just want to use the ropes to help you focus.”
“I am not clear how these bindings will be diff—”
His words are cut off as I cup his balls and stroke my hand up his hardness, still hidden under his pants. Breathing heavily, he looks away, his entire body trembling.
“Can you trust me to just show you what I have in mind?”
He nods.
Moving quickly to the dresser, I pull out a long silk scarf. “Sit down,” I tell him. “I want to blindfold you.”
He quickly obeys my request, sitting on the edge of the bed, and I secure the scarf tightly over his eyes, making sure that he can’t see through.
“Take off your pants,” I tell him.
He rises from the bed, removes his trousers, and then he hands them to me. It touches my heart more than I can explain that he trusts me with the care of his clothes, and I fold them carefully, leaving them on the top of the dresser along with his shirt. Then I turn back to find him trembling, his cock at attention, his balls swollen and dark.
His trembling increases as I draw near, his muscles visibly moving even though his body is still. His ability to sense me, to know where I am at all times, is another thing I love about Zuben.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I say softly. I stroke his arm, and then lift his hand and gently kiss each of his fingers, and then draw each one into my mouth in turn, sucking them lightly.
He remains stiffly standing by the side of the bed, his jaw so tight I fear he’ll break his teeth, and I hope beyond hope that my plan will release that tension—and more. But as impatient as I am to execute this plan, I must take this slow.
I loop one of the ropes around his wrist and secure it tightly with a knot that Axe taught me, and then I move around his back, sliding my hands over the taut muscles there, marveling as they flex and tighten under my touch.
I long to let my hands travel lower, to caress the hard mounds of his ass, maybe reach around to take his hard cock and balls, but patience and control are the name of this game, and my desired outcome will be well worth my temporary restraint.
I give the same treatment to his other arm and fingers, and then tie another length of rope around that wrist.
Slowly and carefully, I get up onto the bed so I can reach to better explore his back and shoulders and his ropey neck, and I delight in the soft texture of his brown skin, relishing the hard planes and mounds of his muscles coming alive under my hands. It’s like I’m a sculptor, but I certainly can’t take any credit for the masculine perfection that is Zuben’s tall, leanly muscled body.
My hands trace his shoulders, one over each, loving their width, loving how the ridges of muscle, coming down from either side of his neck, dip as they join the mounded muscles that drape over his shoulders to join the ones in his arms. My fingers trace all his indentations and relish in the slopes and planes and curves of each part of him. I delight in how I can see and feel and hear his body’s reaction to my touch.
“You are so beautiful.” I kiss the muscles that stretch along the top of his back, delighting in the taste of his skin, marveling at how I can sense not only the flavor of his blood through my kiss, but also hear its rush beneath the surface.
Slowly descending, I lick the length of his spine, spending time over each vertebra, until I’m sitting on the bed behind him.
