Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
She pulls at the cuffs and looks at me with wide eyes. I don’t know if it’s panic or if she realizes she likes this. Either way, I’ve never been more turned on in my life.
Regret is something I don’t want to live with, so instead of telling her how I feel, I’m going to take full advantage of this situation. I will not look back and regret not touching her while I had the chance. I will think back to the time I had Hartford handcuffed to her bed and touched her. Made her feel things that I may never again make her feel. Was able to soak in her beauty, her scent, her sounds. I won’t allow myself to regret burying my feelings because I’m going to live in these moments. The moments of passion, sexual desire, and need.
My eyes lift to hers, heavy with arousal. “I’m going to start at your ankles and work my way up.” I pick up the feather and run it through my fingers. “Ready?”
She nods, biting her bottom lip as she looks at me. I touch the feather to her skin and she shivers. My heart races as I drag the feather up her leg, hitting her inner thigh. She lets out a sigh as I graze it across her covered pussy and down the other leg. My cock presses against the zipper of my jeans as I move it back up her leg and brush the feather over her panty-clad clit. Her hips lift slightly and I want to ditch the feather and replace it with my fingers. Or my tongue.
“Fuck, Hart, you’re making it hard.”
My dick, the situation—take your pick.
I stroke the feather back and forth over her exposed stomach, and her silky skin erupts in goosebumps from the delicate touch.
“You like this, don’t you?” I ask, gliding the feather up toward her tits.
Her eyes lock with mine, and the heat in them forces me to suppress a growl. It’s erotic as hell. “Yes.”
I move the feather, brushing along the bottom of her tits, and she lets out a soft moan, pulling against the handcuffs. “What do you want me to touch, Hartford?”
Am I pushing it? Maybe. Do I care? Hell no. I’m ready to rip the thin fabric and use my lips to make her squirm.
“I…um…I don’t know,” she whispers.
I trail the feather over her hard nipples, and she lifts her hips off the bed. It’s a powerful feeling, so I do it again and again, evoking a loud moan from her.
“You should see how fucking sexy you look right now.” I move the feather along each arm. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
Her half-closed eyes soften as she looks at me, a small blush creeping up her neck. “I do?”
I drag the feather up her neck, tracing the blush. She flinches, pulling against her restraints again, but never breaks eye contact with me.
“Yes, you have no idea what you’re capable of doing to someone. You could bring a man to his knees with a simple look, Hart.”
“Even you?”
I move closer to her lips, too close, and search her eyes. “Especially me.”
My heart races in my chest as I hear her quick, shallow breaths, causing her chest to rise rapidly. Her hard nipples graze my chest, and I might explode.
I brush the feather against her throat, up her jawline, across her lips. She swallows hard and squirms, shifting her legs, probably trying to ease the ache between them. If she’s half as turned on as I am, she’s dripping wet.
“Oh god, Paxton.”
“I know.”
“No, wait.” There’s clear panic in her voice, so I move away from her and search her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think because I can’t use my hands, I’m suddenly extremely itchy.”
I glance down at her body and my eyes widen. That’s when I realize she wasn’t squeezing her legs together. She was trying to scratch herself. “Oh fuck, Hart.”
“What?” She lifts her head and sees the small red bumps covering her body. “Oh my god.”
“Are you allergic to feathers?”
Her eyes snap to mine and narrow. “I think I might be. Get these cuffs off, Paxton. Stop looking at it and free my hands,” she squeals out, her body twisting and turning, trying to break free.
“Fuck.” I snatch the key off the dresser and quickly unlock the handcuffs, setting her free.
She scratches various spots on her body. “Oh God, this itches so bad.” She lifts her eyes to me and the heat is long gone, replaced by fear. “What the hell do I do?”
“Do you have Cortisone cream?”
“Yes, in the bathroom. Top drawer.”
“Really? You just have it?”
She lets out a frustrated groan and narrows her eyes at me. “I bought it when you touched poison ivy last year. Who the fuck cares why I have it? Get it.”
I rush out of the bedroom and grab the cream from the bathroom. When I return, she’s still scratching herself.