*52 - Want & Promises

Cassidy would be mortified to admit how arousing she found it to have his belt lecherously imprisoning her.  Normal people didn’t enjoy seduction with a strap of leather.  Did they?  She had access to a man as drop-dead gorgeous and sexy as Jon, yet it was his belt that put her in high gear?

What is it with you and this daggone belt, girl? 

She had no idea, but it was certainly her newest and most potent fetish. 

“Here’s the deal,” he murmured as his hands lightly curved around her waist, prompting Cassidy tuck trussed hands beneath her chin.  “You’re gonna get on that bed and put your hands above your head.  There’s nothing to tie you to, so this is an honor thing.  I’m depending on you to maintain the illusion.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Hot hands barely grazed her ribcage as he pushed the shirt and her elbows apart to execute a slow, upward journey that ended with lust-heavy breasts resting comfortably in his palms.  Industrious thumbs extended to simultaneously scrape nipples that had beaded in anticipation of that very action, and Cassidy’s nostrils flared with her deeply drawn breath.

“Then you’ll be very disappointed, beautiful fortune cookie.”

While his thumbs continued their provoking tactics, artful fingertips dexterously traced swirls on the underside of her breasts with a lightness that could easily have been imagined.  She might have believed her subconscious was playing tricks on her, but the ethereal motion tickled, and plump raspberry nipples were converted to stiff peaks.

“Mmmmm…”  The erotic pressure of the binding at her wrists, the bit of leather that she’d managed to work into her fingertips, his gradual ministrations…  They came together in a lewd flash mob, pushing Cassidy to a point where disappointment would not be acceptable, and she breathily vowed, “I’ll maintain that illusion better than David Copperfield.”

The warmth of his chuckle at her ear had tingles sprinting down her spine and, when he turned to press heated lips to her jaw, she angled shamelessly into the touch.

“You turn me on,” he stated quietly, while restless hands crawled around to stroke those spinal tingles and drift lower.  As gently as a butterfly, his fingertips fluttered along the cleft of her bottom before parting to caress the roundness that he seemed to favor.  “In so many goddamn ways.”

The naked confession had a more profound effect on Cassidy than the butterfly wings he steered over her ribcage.  Maybe it was because he didn’t particularly like sharing what went on in his head, but Jon certainly knew how to make the most impact with the fewest words, and her heart thumped painfully with the reward.

Raising bound hands straight up in the air, she stepped in to press their bodies together from chest to hip and threaded his head through the circle of her arms.  Triceps came to rest on his shoulders and Cassidy sloped her forearms so that she might stroke his hair. 

“Show me,” she whispered against an exquisitely sculpted cheekbone while swiveling her hips with seductive intent.  The subsequent twitch beneath his shorts was a good start, but it wasn’t enough to suit her.  Cassidy wanted to bear the full brunt of his uncensored passion.  Rough and tumble, fierce and desperate or just all-consuming, she’d take any and all as long as it was all Jon – no holds barred.

“No.”  His hands slipped behind his neck and latched onto leather roped wrists.  His grasp wasn’t harsh, but it was purposeful when lifting them high to step out of the embrace.  “Get on the bed and start maintaining the illusion.”

“Kiss me first.”

Goddammit, she was so feisty and stubborn.  Was this idea going to backfire on him?  Would he be the one to end up making promises in exchange for satisfaction? 

No.  Hell no.

“Last time I checked, you’re the one all tied up.  That puts me in charge.”  With deliberate fingers, he scraped the hair away from her face to the top of her head, tunneling through it to hold her for a single hard kiss.  “Go.”

Get your shit together.  You have better control than this. 

He did.  He was the epitome of control when the situation called for it.  The secret was to focus on one part at a time.  Viewing the whole package created a complete and incomparable Cassidy, who aroused his eyes, hands, mind and…emotions.  Viewed individually, her parts could belong to any run-of-the-mill woman. 

That’s what he had to tell himself.

Jealousy spiked when she turned to do just as he requested – jealousy of a fucking shirt.  The rumpled white cotton was wickedly fondling curves that begged Jon to molest them when, restricted by self-imposed mandates, he could only watch. 

But damn if he didn’t examine every muscle flexing as she crawl across the expanse of mattress to collapse submissively on her back.  She clutched the pillow above her head and the shirt flowed to each side, exposing breasts that sat proudly at attention while the tails sheathed invitingly parted thighs. 

Yeah.  The shirt is hers.

“What are you waitin’ for?” the stunning belle drawled in her sexy-as-fuck Southern accent. 

He mentally detached and set his sights on the task at hand.

”Not a damn thing.” 

Jon, staying fully dressed, joined her on the bed and deliberately maintained a distance that prevented him from physically touching her.  He sat alongside, tucking one leg beneath him and stretching the other toward the end of the bed.  It was the perfect position in which to visually fondle each spectacular body part, one at a painstaking-time.

Pale pink toes became pixie feet with curvaceous arches that flowed into delicate ankles, then shapely calves and toned thighs that spoke of routine physical activity.  Her hips, though, spoke of something else entirely.  Its conversational partners included the subtle mound veiled by her panties, the finely concave plane of her stomach, the indentation of her waist, the swell of her ribs, and the even greater swell of her breasts…  They all articulated an irresistible femininity. 

Common sense told him not to dwell on the voluptuous portion of the landscape, and Jon forced himself to go higher.  He progressed on to the fragile collarbone that lay visible between the shirt plackets, the seemingly frail structure of her neck and shoulders, slender arms encased in cotton and…

The stunning facial features that were as dangerous as her womanly curves.

“You gonna do anything besides stare?”

He met ocean blue eyes with a subdued smile.  “Eventually.”

The perfect bow of her mouth contorted into a dissatisfied pucker and Cassidy piously informed him, “Lest you forget, I am not incapable of satisfyin’ of my own desires.”

“I haven’t forgotten a damn thing,” he assured, skimming the very tip of his finger along her jaw’s edge.  “You can make yourself come, but it won’t be satisfying.”

A motion at the corner of his eye caught Jon’s attention and he flicked his gaze toward the headboard where her tied wrists lay.  That’s when he discovered her fondling the leather as she would a lover.  As she would him. 

“I don’t know ‘bout that,” she disagreed.  “The thought of humpin’ this belt is mighty appealin’.”

“You just think away, because that’s as far as it’s gonna go.” 

That wasn’t going to happen.  Not when he was sitting right here with his dick at half-mast, trying to make her crazy without losing control over his libido. 

He tucked his legs under him and pushed to his knees, reaching for the buckle.  Two efficient movements had it unfastened, a twirl of his wrist had her liberated from its confines and a quick toss had it bouncing from the wall to the floor with a dull, metal clank.  He used one hand to enclose the now-free wrists and bent forward until his face hung close to hers.

“I’ll leave the motherfucking thing when I go.  Masturbate with it every day for all I care, but you won’t touch it again while I’m in the same goddamn bed with you.  Got it?”

“My, my, my.”  Her lazy grin said that she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by his badassery, and he hated that it was one more thing that turned him on about her.  “I haven’t had the pleasure of your domineerin’ voice since that first mornin’.  I’d almost forgotten how very panty meltin’ it could be.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

“I was just sayin’ to myself a moment ago that I’d like bein’ subjected to your full, unbridled passion.  Pardon the cliché term, but you think I might get lucky on that?”

He blinked down into her face.  “What the hell does that even mean?”

“’Bout what it sounds like,” she answered vaguely and mimed a shrug with the tilt of her head. 

It sounded like she wanted him to fuck her senseless.  Take her for his own pleasure like a caveman and all that bullshit.  That couldn’t possibly be right. 

“I’m a man, baby.  Dumb it down for me.”

Cassidy puckered her lips and lifted her head in an effort to kiss him, but Jon withdrew before she made contact, causing her to sigh.  “It’d be nice to have you so wound up in wantin’ me that you can’t do anything but take me.”

Well, hell.  I think I was right?

Resuming his former position with only inches separating their noses, he posed, “Maybe I want the same thing from you.”

This time the tilt of her head was accompanied by a curious drawing of her eyebrows.  “You don’t know that I want you?  Hell, honey, everybody wants you.”

“I don’t give a shit about everybody, I give a shit about you.”

Her giggle had the mattress shaking.  “There’s your next great love song title.  ‘I Give a Shit About You’.”

Jon wasn’t amused.  She had started this and they were damn-sure going to finish it. 

“Tell me you want me,” he demanded, his ego swelling when she went doe-eyed and dialed her smile back from amusement to affection. 

“I want you.”

It was a start.  Maybe his plan wasn’t turning out the way he expected it to, but he could use this to his advantage.  He was sure of it.

“What would you do to have me?”

The smile wiped into a frown.  “That’s an awful deep foreplay conversation, don’t ya think?”

“No, no.”  He offered a slight shake of the head.  “I’m not talking in the grand scheme of life, I’m talking right here, right now.  How far would you go to have me slide between your legs and own you?”

“As far as it takes,” was her confident reply. 

That was exactly the answer he wanted to hear. 

“So you’re telling me…”  Jon rose to his knees, kicking one leg over to straddle her hips and, when she arched up to meet him, he used his free hand to sharply tug at one of her nipples.  “… that I could ask anything of you?  You could be so desperate to have my cock buried balls-deep inside you, that you’d agree to anything?”

“Within reason,” she ground out, her eyes falling closed on a groan when he tugged harder. 

“No.”  He rocked his hips forward, using the friction against her stomach to resurrect his hard-on.  One hand continued to forcibly hold her wrists in the pillows while the other pinched and pulled rosy peaks into full bloom.  “You said you’d go as far it takes.  Yes or no?”

“Mmmnnhhh.” 

His girl liked nipple play.  Her cheeks were almost as red as the over-ripe raspberries he was plucking and, when he raked his thumbnail over one of them, she nearly came off the bed. 

Jon’s cock swelled with immediate approval.

“You want me?  You wanna see how much I want you?”

“Yes,” she moaned. 

“Then answer me, goddammit.”  He abandoned her chest to lick his thumb and glide it along her full bottom lip while propelling his hardness into her belly.  With that iron poker searing into her, she couldn’t mistake his desire.  “Promise me the world, Dixie, and I’ll show you fucking passion.”

For the first time, she struggled against the hand that held her captive, but he was stronger and exceptionally motivated.

“I want to touch you,” was her complaint upon realizing she couldn’t break free.

“No.  Not until you tell me what I want to hear.”

Lifting her head, she sucked his thumb into her mouth and the velvet sandpaper of her tongue sent another shock to his groin.  Jon grunted and temporarily extracted both of his hands to whip his shirt off and throw it.  She was just about to lay her palms against his bare chest when he corralled and pinned them again.  He wanted to be touched as badly as she wanted to touch, but he wanted her promise more. 

“Tell me what you want,” she beseeched, squirming beneath him as she discovered that the edge of the button-down could be coerced into teasing her nipple.  “I don’t make blind promises.”

Smart move.  Smart girl.  It was one more thing to admire. 

“Trust me enough to make this one, and I won’t ask you to make another.  I swear.” 

The way her hips wiggled had his balls drawing tight against him and there was a major tent pole in his shorts.  They needed to come off soon, but he didn’t dare release her long enough to do it.  Not yet.

“I can’t stay in Nashville,” she grunted when he pushed the shirt out of the way.  He didn’t need the competition right now. 

“I’m not asking you to.”  Jon leaned forward until he was nearly lying on top of her, then swayed back and forth to tickle her breasts with his chest hair.  “C’mon, baby.  I’m dying to skewer that hot pussy but I can’t until you promise.”

He laved the hollow of her collarbone and swept his tongue up her neck as she writhed and mewled pitifully.  The texture of his chest against hers mingled with his hot, wet mouth were mounting an assault against her willpower – he hoped. 

“Ohhhh, Lord a’mercy!” 

Her head came off the pillow, mouth vainly seeking to connect with his, but he wouldn’t give her that satisfaction either.  She would get nothing more until he secured her promise.

“I want you,” he rasped heavily into her ear.  “Do you hear me?  I want you.”

“Snazzlefratzin’ duckfeathers!”

He had no idea what that meant, but if the pithy growl that came with it was any indication, it loosely translated into Jersey dialect as “motherfuckin’ sonofoabitch”. 

Creative cursing was good.  It indicated that she was nearing the end of her rope and he gently pulled her earlobe between his lips in an effort to make her release it altogether.  He suckled and teased it, but she remained stoically silent other than a soft whimper.

“Say it.”  His nose flattened against her jaw as he bathed the underside with his tongue.  “Say it and I’ll make you come.”

“Twice.”

“Twice,” he readily agreed, moving around her chin to the other side of her jaw.  “I’ll suck your clit… until you turn inside out… then pound… until you’re so wrung out… you can’t move.”

He purposefully breathed hot and heavy against the pulse-point in her neck before sucking the skin between his teeth.  It wasn’t hard enough to make a new mark, just hard enough to persuade.

“Yesss,” she broke down on the release of a pent-up breath.  “Yes.  Whatever you want is yours, but please… Give me my hands and stuff me full of you.  Hoo-ha kissin’ can wait.”

That he had no problem with, even with the colorful Dixie-ism thrown in there. 

Relieved that he no longer had to hold himself in check, Jon immediately slid off her and out of his shorts.  He gave his cock a couple of hard pulls as he returned to the bed and crudely tore off her little white panties.  The time for being a gentleman had passed.  The scoundrel was on deck and ready to take action.

“You want to know how bad I want you?” 

His tone was demanding as he grabbed both of her ankles in one hand and shoved them toward her right shoulder.  When her derriere lifted high, the white cotton of the shirt fell away and left him with unimpeded access to the glossy pink intimacy that he had come to crave – the tightly compressed pink folds that were his favorite source of sanity. 

“Don’t tell me.  Show me.”

Damn if that breathless begging from the woman whom he couldn’t intimidate wasn’t enough to add another inch to his hard-on.  Jon gave the swollen head a final stroke before mercilessly driving it into the woman that may never truly belong to him, yet whom he had claimed for his own. 

She was a hot, wet, carnal vise that had him digging his toes into the mattress to push harder.  Deeper.  To entrench himself.  To embed himself in her. 

“Ohhhh, baby doll…”

Fuck if that pet name didn’t add another inch to the erection that already felt a foot long. 

Jon released her ankles to plant his palms on the bed and wedge his shoulder into the crook of her knees, leaving her feet to dangle behind him.  She was essentially on her back in a fetal position, completely vulnerable and accepting to the hammering that he couldn’t gentle if he wanted to.   Wouldn’t gentle if he could, because she wanted to experience his “unbridled passion” and she was damn-well going to experience it.

There was a fierce and repetitive slap of flash, ragged breathing, hoarse moans, agonized groans, and needy whimpers.  It was a pornographic soundtrack filled with real emotion and he lost himself in it as surely as he lost himself in the passion that was being stoked like a fire, making him sweat.  Making him move faster, harder.  Making him plunge, thrust and drive to feed the fiery friction that incinerated his dwindling fuse.

He thought she cried his name, or maybe he shouted hers.  Either was debatable, but there was one thing he was certain of.  The rumble that started as a vibration in the soles of his feet before branching out to his ankles and sizzling up the backs of his legs…  It was going to be a volcanic eruption of Pompeiian proportions.

“Unnnhhhh!!!”

The proof of his desire spewed forth just as violently as he’d anticipated, but there was something he hadn’t anticipated – his ability to breathe.  Every… single… muscle… seized so violently that he was forced to go completely and utterly still.  He was, in effect, paralyzed.  There was nothing Jon could do but inventory every drop that her convulsing body milked from him while the blood rushed deafeningly through his veins.

And pray.

God, I don’t know why you brought her into my life, but thank you.