Page 70 of Wild Fire

“Just like we practiced.”

Right. Practice.

Carefully, I remove my clothes while he works on checking the rope strength, the clamps, and the rig itself. I assume my position—I kneel with my hands on my thighs, back straight, and head held high and wait until he is satisfied with his work.

“Come,” he orders, and I don’t hesitate to do so. I stand before him, the cool air kissing my skin as he unravels his rope, looking me over with warmth and awe. Even when we play these games, he can’t hide how he feels. And neither can I.

“I love you,” I whisper as he carefully lifts my arm and places it behind my back. He gently ties my wrists back, then fixes the ropes to the rig.

“How’s that?” he asks.

“Good.”

“Nothing going numb?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

We’ve done this enough times that I know the safety protocols by heart, because we never skip them. It’s part of the prep for the scene, but it’s also something AJ likes to do to draw out the whole experience. He’s far more patient than me when it comes to this sort of thing.

Though, if I’m patient, I’ll get exactly what I want—what we both want—so I focus on my breathing. I think about what’s to come, and how good it’s going to feel later.

AJ carefully pulls on my strings like a marionette, putting me into a myriad of positions, each one more intricate than the last. By the time we get to the end of the scene, I’m so tightly wound from his touch, from the ropes digging into my skin, that I feel like I’m going to explode.

“Master August, please…” I cry, my dick aching to be stroked, sucked, something…

I can’t move, not without help, so there’s no way I could even reach my dick in this position.

“Please what?” he asks, his voice smooth and strong.

I love that voice. I know when I hear it everything is going to be okay.

“Please fuck me already,” I gripe.

He twists his lips.

“Are you close?”

“Yes,” I say. It’s not a lie.

AJ was right—waiting does make the orgasm more intense, but he’s been edging me for weeks, and I’m pretty sure if he doesn’t fuck me soon, I will murder him and haunt our house—well my house slash bed and breakfast—so he never forgets it.

AJ adjusts my suspension so that I can lift my legs, but my arms and wrists remain bound. The pink rope marks on my thighs stand out against my pale skin, and AJ wastes no time pulling my legs around his hips.

“Open,” he orders, and I open my mouth. AJ slips two fingers into my mouth.

“Suck. Get them nice and wet.”

I do as he asks, laving my tongue around his thick fingers.

“Good boy,” he whispers, as he takes them out of my mouth.

The minute he slips his fingers inside me, I shudder. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to hold off for him.

“Master…” I cry.

“What do you need?” he asks, two fingers slowly pumping in and out of my sensitive hole.

“You,” I whine.