Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
A redo.
I picture the outfit I’ll wear. Well, after I shower since…sweat is gross. I imagine what I’ll say. How it might feel.
But when I open the door to get ready for Banks, he’s already here. And it looks like he’s paid a visit to quite a number of local shops to satisfy our DIY sex toy habit.
37
A SMORGASBORD
RIPLEY
It’s a sex toy buffet. “Can I have one of everything?” I ask as I survey the offerings on the coffee table.
“You can have everything,” Banks says, standing by like a proud…charcuterist creator? Potluck purveyor? Who knows, but the man has outdone himself with his selection of unconventional toys. I pick up the first one, inspecting it, then dangling the stick with the stuffed fake blue bird at the end. “You stopped by a pet store?”
“Don’t knock it. Those fake feathers look pretty soft,” he says.
I run the baby-blue faux feathers over my palm. “Cats have the right idea,” I say, but there’s one issue. “Though I might feel a little weird using a pet toy in bed.”
“Fair enough.”
I set it down and pick up the next option. A silky pink ribbon, long and curling. “Paid a visit to the craft store?”
“I was a busy boy.”
I rub my fingers against the material, then hum approvingly. “It’s silky,” I say, then drag it over the top of my chest. “Very silky.”
His eyes widen as I demonstrate.
Next, I pick up the synthetic feather duster and run it down my arm. My breath catches. But I frown. “I’m not sure I’m ready to come to terms with getting aroused by a cleaning tool. But I would definitely love to watch you do dishes and fold laundry someday because that sounds unspeakably hot.”
He leans in, cups my cheek, and plants a quick, firm kiss to my lips. “Just wait till you see what I can do with fitted sheets.”
“You can fold fitted sheets?” I ask breathily, my chest already heaving.
“Perfectly,” he says in a husky promise.
I nibble on the corner of my lips. “I’m not sure we need toys then. Knowing that is foreplay enough.”
He grabs my ass, then hauls me against him for a deeper kiss. When he breaks it, he says, “Get on the bed, sweetheart.”
I have a feeling I know which one’s coming. In a flash, I shed my clothes, leaving on my white lace bra and panties.
I settle onto the bed on my back, as he prowls over to me. He’s wearing jeans and nothing else. My mouth waters at the sight of him—broad chest, thick shoulders, carved abs, and all that ink on his muscular arm. The symbols of who he is, what he believes in. As he returns to the table, picking up the ribbon, he regards me with wild heat in his dark eyes. Passion, too, as he returns to me, his gaze journeying up and down me. He dangles the pink ribbon over my chest, the soft end of it teasing against my left breast, tickling me. “Still want to skip foreplay?”
The rush of heat shooting down my body makes me a liar as I arch into the ribbon’s touch. “No.”
He stands by the side of the bed, teasing the ribbon down my body, between my breasts, over my belly. It’s soft, and I shudder as he drags it over me, like it’s a feather.
And yes, apparently I’m into flower ticklers, headband bondage, and now ribbon play. Who knew? Maybe Banks did. Maybe he sensed this about me all along. I stretch my neck, a sign for him to keep going. He takes my cue and runs with it, dangling the silky material over me, then coasting the end down my arm. I’m aching. He’s not even touching me with his body, not his hands, not his mouth, not his cock, and still my skin is tingling, my thighs shaking.
He continues his erotic torture, unfurling the ribbon down my body, over my legs, then back up, along the inside of my thighs. I part my legs for him.
He stares wantonly at my white panties. “You look so fucking beautiful,” he says, and he sounds filthy and adoring.
He drops the ribbon and bends to run his knuckles along the side of my face, tracing my jawline.
Funny how I thought I’d come back to the cottage and demand a spanking, like I wanted the night I met him, but when he showed me the table of toys, I wanted that more.
Because of how he uses whatever sex toys he MacGyvers—he uses them to turn me on. That’s his sole mission—me. And with Banks, I’m learning I don’t have to solve a thing. I get to fix…nothing. I don’t have to think at all, and I like not having a to-do list.
Or perhaps I like that I’m his to-do list.
Banks takes each item on it very seriously, leaning down and starting with tugging down the cup of the bra on my right breast. Giving me a kiss on my nipple. Then sucking.