Page 52 of Blow Me Down
I thought for a moment. I disliked being out of control of any situation, but this was different. This wasn’t real, it was just… well, basically mind sex.
Although Corbin’s hands on my naked legs sure felt real. I shivered again. “No, I don’t think you should stop. I’d be just as turned on without it, you know, because you’re incredibly sexy, but… well, I see your point about doing something totally different. It makes us unique, in a way. So it’s all right. Just don’t get too wild on me, okay?”
His smile returned, this time with extra wickedness as he slid his hands up my thighs. “No promises, my sweet. Now, shall we get down to business?”
Chapter 13
Take heart, fair days will shine;
Take any heart—take mine!
—Ibid, Act I
“Business?” I all but shrieked as Corbin caressed my thighs. “This is business to you? You have no real idea what business is, do you? Business is—oh, my God!
That is not business! That’s a very sharp knife! This is payback from when I held a knife to your noogies, isn’t it?”
Corbin had pulled a dagger from beneath the mattress, the corners of his mouth curving as he bent down over one bound leg. His tongue snaked out and flicked across the crease at the back of my knee. I sat straight up and grabbed his head. “Oh!”
“Oh?”
“Oh! It means… oooooh, baby!”
He chuckled and used one hand to free his head from my grasp. “Do I need to tie your hands, too? I thought you’d like them unbound. I know I was looking forward to you touching me. But if you can’t control yourself, I’ll have to tie them, as well.”
I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do with his plans, then thought better of it. We were playing a game. A very sexy, erotic game, but still, it was a game, and I’d come to see the light as far as a little play went. I lay back down.
“All right. Hands down. For a while, anyway. But I reserve the right to gasp whenever I feel moved to do so. What are you going to do with that knife? I’m not at all into pain, you know.”
“Good. Neither am I.” His head dipped again, and he licked the back of my other knee. A tremor of desire shook me at the simple touch. Who knew backs of knees could be so sensitive?
“So then what are you going to do with it?”
His hand slid up my thigh, pushing my skirt up before it, his mouth trailing a line of steamy kisses. He stopped long enough to quickly undo the line of buttons that held the skirt together, tossing it on a nearby chair. “I know it’s a traditionally romantic belief that women like to have their underwear ripped off them, but I’ve always thought it sounded painful. I figured you’d prefer to remove yours in a less brutal manner.” He glanced down at the cotton and lace underwear I had fashioned from leftover bits of cloth and dress trimmings.
“You don’t mind if I slice them off, do you?”
“Actually, I do. This is my only pair, you see. I wash them out every night, and pray they’re dry by morning.”
He looked up at me. “But you live with a bunch of women. Don’t any of them have panties you can borrow?”
“Okay, first of all, borrowed undies? No. Not done. And second, the group of women I live with specialize in activities conducted sans underwear, thus they aren’t articles in high demand. Last, but not least, you did your research a bit too well. Most of the women don’t even wear underwear, which, I gather from their surprised looks when they saw what I was sewing, is the norm. So, long story short: yes, I mind. Can I just take them off, and you pretend you cut them off me in a manly act of rampant desire?”
“Sweetheart, my manly desire is more than rampant, as you can plainly see,” he answered, untying my ankles. I smiled at the rampant parts and quickly stood to shuck my underwear.
“Er… I don’t have a bad self-image or anything. I mean, men don’t barf upon seeing me naked. But I’m not in any way perfect, and I’m afraid that if all you have to go with regarding my appearance is my image of myself, then my flaws are bound to be exaggerated.”
Corbin spun the knife upward, impressively snatching it out of midair to point it at me. “Lose them, or I’ll cut them off and you’ll be spending the rest of your time here going commando.”
“Pushy is not sexy,” I pointed out.
He looked down at the rampant bits.
“Well, all right, some forms of pushy are, but you know what I mean. And yes, I’m taking them off. But you got to have a disclaimer before you took off your clothes, so I think it’s only fair that I get to, as well.”
I hurried off with the underwear, my bodice, and my blouse, then stood feeling extremely awkward while his gaze roamed over my (flawed) naked body. “I’m sorry. I told you my breasts were too small, and my grandmother always said I had hips that could bear a dozen children with ease, and I swear the cellulite fairy has been making nightly visits—”
Corbin tossed the knife onto the desk, then scooped me up again and deposited me on the bed with a laugh and a lascivious grin. “We’re quite a pair. Here’s me with my beer gut and you being silly about absolutely nothing. Your breasts are perfect, pert little morsels just waiting for more resuscitating, and I happen to like your hips. They arouse me like nothing else does.”
