Page 171 of Terms of Exposure
"How do you feel?"
I swallowed, my throat bobbing against the stiff angle of my neck. "Exposed."
A dark laugh rumbled from deep in his chest.
"Good." He stepped closer. "That is exactly how I want you."
He circled behind me, disappearing from view.
And just like that, I felt it—a telltale release, dripping onto the floor below. Little droplets betraying exactly how much my body wanted this.
His footsteps stopped.
A sharp intake of breath.
"Oh, Emma. You should see yourself."
He gripped my hips from behind, steadying me as I swayed gently in the ropes. The touch was electric—every nerve ending amplified, every sensation magnified tenfold.
"You're so beautiful like this," he said, voice rough with want.
His fingers traced the curve of my spine, following the line of rope down my back. Lower. Lower still.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
I couldn't answer. Words had become impossible. There was only sensation—the ropes, his hands, the ache building between my legs.
A whimper escaped my throat as his fingers found my core, sliding through the wetness gathered there.
Then he moved.
Footsteps circled until he stopped in front of me again. He dropped to his haunches, bringing himself to my eye level. Proof of my need glistened on the fingers he lifted before my face.
He sucked his ring finger into his mouth. Tasting me.
His head tipped back with a groan, the digit popping free. "You taste so fucking good. Sweet like a nectarine."
His free hand cupped my jaw—gentle, mindful of the rope still securing my head—as he brought his wet fingers to my lips.
I didn't break his gaze as I opened for him. Accepting them.
His pupils blew wide. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as I sucked, twirling my tongue around his fingertips, hollowing my cheeks.
He withdrew them with a growl.
Then he was gone—straightening, disappearing behind me. I heard the snap of a belt. The rustle of fabric hitting the floor.
His hands gripped my hips and pulled me back toward him, the ropes swaying with the motion.
His knees hit the sheepskin rug with a dull thud.
Then his lips brushed against my aching pussy.
"I've been thinking about this." The words vibrated against my inner thigh. "About having you like this. Spread open above me. Unable to move. Unable to do anything but take what I give you."
A whimper escaped me.
"So wet," he breathed. "Dripping for me."
