Page 22 of Reindeer and Restraints
"I'm yours." Surrender washes through me as I admit how deeply I want to be with him.
I can't make out what he says because I gasp as he thrusts deep, filling me, his rhythm building fast.
Our bodies intertwine. He rolls me on top of him. His leg bumps into the tree, ornaments jingle, and for a split second we freeze, making sure it's not going to topple onto us.
"You drive me wild," he mutters, his pace unrelenting even from below.
Sweat slicks our bodies, the pop music playing in the background. In this exact moment, my life is perfect. I cry out, shattering around him, and he follows, rolling us back so he's on top.
We lie there, tangled on the floor, eventually rolling onto our sides, tree lights casting colorful patterns across his body.
"We have time for another round." I can't let this opportunity go to waste.
"I unwrapped my present. I think it's time you open yours." He fishes the gift out from under the tree, and I don't question why he'd rather swap presents than cum.
I prop myself on an elbow and tear the wrapping paper off. From my awkward position, I fumble the plain white box while trying to open it. He grabs it, opens the lid, and shows me…black leather cuffs lined with soft fur and studded with silver stars.
I sit up, stunned by the custom design. How did he know I love stars? "Handcuffs? They're so beautiful."
But why are there four?
"Ankles too."
Heat rushes through me. I'm giddy. “And the stars?”
“Seemed perfect for you.”
“They are.”
"I know you love your freedom, but you also seem to love restraints."
I wrap one of the cuffs around my wrist. "You want to tie me up and fuck me, and you're worried it'll cramp my style? Let me assure you—it won't be a problem."
He gets that feral look again and fastens the buckle on the cuff I tried on.
He leans me onto my back and fastens the other end on the foot of the couch.
I test the cuff—firm, unyielding. He scoots me to the side so my head is between the two couches and he fastens my other arm to the second couch.
The vulnerability hits differently, exposed like this, but it ignites something raw. His hands roam over my entire body, teasing until I'm writhing and tugging at the restraints.
I'm at his mercy, surrendering control to him. Escaping responsibilities. Embracing my sexuality as he explores every inch of me with licks and kisses.
I have a sensitive spot behind my knee that I didn't know about. My stomach does somersaults as he kisses over my belly. My nipples are rock-hard and then some as he teases with his tongue. And my fingers. I had no idea how much I would like him sucking on my fingers.
This is what I dreamed of and it's mine. All I have to do is trust that he wants me. That shouldn't be so difficult.
Then he lines his body up with mine and slides his cock inside. We feel so right together. I'm his, and I mean it.
Ecstasy builds, coiling until it can't be contained any longer. I fracture into a million pieces. I'm glitter floating on the breeze. And I'm his.
He rides through my release, giving me a chance to catch my breath before his cock swells, pushing me right into another orgasm with him.
I hug his body against mine, shocked by how free I feel with him. A million questions should be flooding my brain but there's only one I can't shake… Hudson being a part of this.
Have I fantasized about my stepbrother so many times, I can't accept reality? Guilt niggles at me for where my mind wanders while in these strong arms. I should be happy. I am. I'm more than happy.
Yet, my mind morphs Hudson's kind actions into those of a loving husband. Why can't I just be happy, brain? Should I have snuck into his bedroom one of the many times I heard him masturbating? Could this have all been solved long ago?
