Page 26 of Floored (Frenched 3)
“Yes. Does that surprise you?”
“Actually,” he said slowly, “it scares me a little.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what I would have done to you if the lights hadn’t come back on.”
My stomach cartwheeled. “Turn off the lights and do it now.”
He inhaled and exhaled, deep and controlled. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
For a few seconds, neither of us moved. I imagined that in his mind he was debating the wisdom of subjecting me to more coercion. I’d said I liked things dirty, but he must have recognized that I hadn’t had much experience. It had probably been obvious by my stunned, faltering reactions to his words and his hands. But it had also been obvious that I enjoyed it, right?
What was he afraid of?
Confession: I was afraid too. Of being rejected, of being in over my head, of being wrong about my inclinations.
But mostly I was turned on. And curious. And bored with the Naughty Rabbit.
Bring on the Naughty Cop.
“Charlie.” I set my beer bottle down and got on my hands and knees. “Show me.”
He looked down at my wrists and circled one with his fingers. “Don’t. Move.”
With powerful agility, he popped to his feet and moved for the door, covering the distance in three huge strides. Left on my hands and knees at the back of the room, I felt caged but poised to escape, as if something trapped inside me was about to be set free. Insane energy radiated throughout my limbs, and my breaths were loud, louder even than my heartbeat.
A moment later, I heard the deadbolt on the front door thrown shut, and Charlie appeared again in the doorway. Glancing at the light panel just inside the room, he flipped down all the switches but one—a row of spotlights along the mirror. Then he walked slowly to a back corner of the room, about ten feet from me.
“Come here,” he said quietly. “On your hands and knees.”
Pulse racing, I crawled toward him, my eyes on his. When I reached his feet, I sat back on my heels. And saw the handcuffs dangling from his fingers.
Two sets.
And they weren’t pink.
“Put your hands up.”
I raised my bare arms over my head, my lower lip trembling when he came at me.
He moved so fast.
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In three heartbeats he had me cuffed to the barre, wrists still crossed over my head, so that I couldn’t move my arms at all. I was on my knees, my back to the wall.
Charlie stood in front of me, and for a moment I thought he was going to unzip his pants and put in a request for that blowjob he’d mentioned at my house. I’d have done it, but it dismayed me a little not to have my hands free. My blowjob choreography is pretty good, I think, but it does require the use of my hands and fingers.
But Charlie had other ideas.
First, he pulled my hair free from the knot at the back of my head, letting it tumble down over my shoulders. Next, he knelt in front of me and ran his fingertips slowly from my wrists to my elbows, down my triceps to my ribcage, down my waist to my hips. I shivered in anticipation, my nipples tingling. What was he going to do to me? Sliding his palms back up my sides, he pushed the thin black cotton tank up over my breasts, letting his thumbs linger on the hard pink tips peeking through black lace.
Oh my God. I shivered so hard the cuffs rattled above my head.
“Sensitive?” He rubbed his thumbs over them in tiny, toe-curling circles.
“Yes.”
