My breathing picks up, and I take another drink. “What would you be doing to keep me busy?” I ask.
“Well, for starters, I’d rip that shirt off you along with that underwear. And I’d take that bottle of wine away from you.”
I look up, forgetting he has cameras in this place. I still have no clue where they are in the apartment. But I have a feeling that they’re in more places than just my bedroom. Something about knowing he watches me turns me on. I sink further into the bed, getting comfortable. “And?”
“I’d cuff your hands behind your back and then flip you over, pinning them underneath you.” I groan at the image he gives me. “I’d then drag you across the bed where your head hangs off the side. I would order you to open your mouth so I could fuck it.”
“Ryat,” I moan his name as I lick my lips, imagining him in my mouth. I’ve only given him head that night during the vow ceremony.
“You’d have your legs spread wide open for me while I used a vibrator on your wet cunt. You’d come with my cock down your throat.”
He’s so vulgar with what he wants and how he wants it. I like that about him. I wish I was as open as him. It takes a lot for me to tell him what I want. I think that’s due to so much rejection Matt gave me. He always made me feel dirty. Not just about my fantasies but anytime I showed him any kind of sexual desire. I think that’s why I like the way Ryat takes control without me even having to ask.
Reaching up, I grab my breast over my shirt, knowing my nipples are hard.
“Blake,” he warns. “Do not touch yourself.”
I bang my head on the headboard. “No fair. You’re getting me worked up on purpose. What time Sunday will you be back?” I change the subject.
“Not until Monday night,” he answers.
“What? You said Sunday.” It’s only Friday. He left first thing this morning but never gave me a return time for Sunday. I was hoping for early morning.
“Something came up,” he says vaguely.
That seems to happen a lot in his life. “Well, then I guess I’ll see you Monday.” I try not to sound sad or desperate. I went twenty years without sex. I can last three days.
We say our goodbyes, and I lie down, getting comfortable and turning the movie up.
RYAT
I UNLOCK THE door and enter. A quick look at my watch tells me it’s almost one in the morning. I walk into the bedroom to find her lying on her left side, sound asleep. The popcorn still on the bed next to her with the TV on the Netflix home screen and empty wine bottle on the nightstand.
I drop the bag next to her and open it up. Reaching in, I pull out everything that I’m going to need. Then I go over to her dresser drawer and pull out a see-through thong. Walking back over to her, I grip the covers and rip them off her. She stirs, moving onto her stomach.
Perfect.
I get on the bed and grab her arms, gently pulling them behind her back and crossing her wrists. She moans, her head moving. I grab the zip tie and wrap it around them, securing it tightly.
“What …？” she mumbles sleepily.
Then I reach up, grab a handful of her hair, and yank her face off the pillow. She screams, fully awake now. Sitting on her back, I reach around and shove the thong into her mouth and immediately grab the duct tape. Snapping a piece off with my teeth, I place it over her mouth, securing them inside, all the while she’s kicking and mumbling into the gag.
I shove her face into the pillow while my free hand grabs the black drawstring bag. Letting go of her hair just for a second, she lifts her head to suck in a breath through her nose, and I shove the bag over her head and pull the drawstring, tying it off at the back of her neck to keep it in place, but loose enough where she can still breathe in fresh air through the bottom.
Getting off her, she’s flopping around trying to free herself when I grab her legs and place another zip tie around her ankles. Then I throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of the apartment.
I take her out the side exit where I’ve already got my SUV parked. Opening the back, I place her on her stomach. I pick up the rope that I already had sitting in the back and quickly slide it between her tied wrists and then also slide it between her tied ankles, pulling it tight—hog-tying her.
Stepping back, I watch her fight the restraints, wearing herself down. She’s mumbling nonsense through her gag, and her body is shaking. She can’t see me through the bag over her head. I’ve taken all but her hearing away from her. And even that has to be limited by the rush of adrenaline—the blood rushing in her ears.