Chapter Eighteen

In Which We Learn Who’s The “Bad Influence” in a Fun Way

“ S ure,” I say, continuing to drag him behind me.

“I, uh, have a question for you,” Marcus says.

Now that all of his household goods have finally caught up to him, the room looks more like a bedroom and less like the first place I lived in after I quit beauty college. His furniture is all plain and solid dark wood, with a bed frame that keeps the bed off the ground but is still low enough that he has no trouble getting in and out.

“I ordered something, and it came in today.”

“That’s actually a statement,” I tease.

He shuts the door behind us to keep Freddie K. from ambling in as I pull my shirt over my head. He takes advantage of my shirtlessness, running his hands across my bare skin before I lean against him and start scratching his back. He sighs and wraps his arms around me.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat and looks down at me.

“Yes?” I say, enjoying his nervousness.

“Can I show you?”

“What you ordered?” I grin. “I’d love to see.”

He kisses me softly, then walks across the room to the bed. From under the mattress I watch him pull out one end of a black restraint, before he walks to the other end and pulls out another. It takes everything in me not to squeal like a kid getting a fancy bike at Christmas.

Marcus, the sweetest, funniest, most vanilla man I’ve ever dated, actually bought restraints for the bed. I am officially the bad influence in this relationship.

“You got restraints? For me? How did you know?” I tease.

“Well,” he starts, looking far more nervous than I’ve ever seen him.

“Was it all the hints I’ve been dropping? All the times I cum on your hand when you’ve got me pinned down? All my lame attempts at holding you down?”

He chuckles. “I didn’t think they were lame. I actually thought it was kinda hot.”

He walks around the far side of the bed and pulls out the other two restraints, then sits down to kick off his shoes. He holds out his hand to me and I take it, plopping down next to him. He presses his lips to my ear. “Can I tie you up?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” I reach for his shirt, but he stops me.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? It’s not too much–”

I stop his words with a kiss, gently nipping his bottom lip as I move to straddle him, unhooking my bra so my breasts are exposed and easily accessible. He is a boob guy, through and through. Whatever he was about to say or do immediately changes in favor of lavishing my breasts with attention.

Excitement fills my belly as I wait for him to get brave and actually tie me up. I could demand he do it now, but there’s no point in scaring him off when he’s come this far on his own. I step up off his lap and let him finish getting undressed as I kick off my shoes and socks.

I strip down to my panties and crawl to the middle of the bed, laying down, while I wait for him to make his move.

He undresses quickly, removing his prosthetic and then crawling over until he’s between my legs. I spread them out, so he has more room and he grins.

“Are you still good?” he checks in.

“More than good.”

He wraps the velcro around my first wrist, leaving the cuff very loose.

“Tighter,” I demand.

He raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

I nod, and he obliges, repeating the process with my other wrist.

“Hmmm,” he rumbles, “Even just this is fairly promising.”

I want to giggle at his formal pronouncement, but keep the thought to myself. “Feet too, please ,” I say, emphasizing the word please, knowing how it stirs him up.

“Of course,” he says, his voice getting deeper as he pulls my legs apart even further. Leisurely, he traces the outline of my panties with a finger, then slips his fingers under the fabric, pressing two fingers inside me experimentally. I’m already soaked.

“All that and we haven’t even gotten started yet,” he grins and kisses me over the cloth as his fingers slip out of me. He slides my underwear off and sets about securing the final two restraints, tightening them to the point that they match the ones on my wrists. The cuffs he creates by tightening the velcro may be tight, but his touch is the lightest, kindest, softest of brushes against my skin. It’s a giant contradiction and I think I love him even more for it. These restraints are so not him, and yet, here he is giving it a try.

“How do you feel?” he whispers in my ear.

“Horny,” I tell him and he laughs.

“Mission accomplished? We need a safe word.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need a word.”

“Everyone needs a word,” he insists.

“I want you to fuck me hard and rough and do everything you’ve been wanted to do but haven’t done yet.”

“Damn, so we just jump right to that?”

“I’ve been thinking about this since I was fifteen.”

He busts out laughing, as I hoped he would.

“That. Is. A. Lie.” He punctuates each word with a kiss down my sternum. His cock is hard against my thigh. I know he’s excited about this, but he’s so incredibly nervous. It radiates off him a way I’ve never seen before. Maybe I’m pushing too hard. Maybe this really isn’t his thing. Maybe we’re so far out of his comfort zone and he’s just here trying to please his crazy girlfriend.

“Marcus, lean down.” I tell him. He leans close, his lips inches from mine. “Turn your head. I want your ear.”

He does as I ask, and I run my tongue along the outer shell of his ear, one of his favorite spots. He groans and I whisper, “I trust you completely, Marcus. Do whatever you want to me. I know I’ll love whatever you do.”

He meets my eyes and nods, working his way down my body until he’s resting his head on my thigh.

“The safe word is donkey.”

I start to giggle, stopping only when he runs a finger up the center of me, from opening to clit, then, slowly, carefully, rolls on his belly and plants his face into my pussy. His tongue hits exactly where I want it, and I begin shaking immediately.

“That good, huh?” he says, sounding pleased with himself. He moves his tongue back into position and begins to circle the spot with his tongue. I can hardly move, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to press my clit to his mouth. He stops and tsks.

“I know you’re not moving after I made those restraints tighter. Maybe they need a bit of an adjustment.”

He leaves me and works on my feet, tightening both until my ankles are practically stuck to the mattress. Slowly, he crawls back to me and drops back down to continue his work.

“Fuck, Marcus,” I hiss as his tongue finds my clit again. I want to move, to writhe, to press against his face, but all I can do is lay still and take it. He sucks and licks as electricity builds in my belly, my lower body shaking as he works. The orgasm is so close, the need to rub myself against him so intense, that I begin to whine, the sound growing louder the longer I’m stuck in place. He works my clit, flicking, sucking, flicking, sucking until it’s so close it almost feels like too much. I suck in a deep breath, and then Marcus sits up, resting his hands on my thighs.

“Marcus!” I groan in frustration. “Why would you…”

“You said you trusted me. So trust me.” Using his hand to guide his cock, he thrusts inside me in one quick motion. Fast and hard is not Marcus’s thing. He’s more of a steady guy, but he wastes no time, rocking his hips back before slamming into me in one quick thrust.

I suck a quick breath through my teeth as he slams into me again. It’s hard not to fight against my restraints when all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and pull him even closer.

“Marcus,” I breathe, “faster, plea–”

He readjusts the weight on his arms and begins to move faster, the movement of his body and his weight pressing me into the mattress as he works.

“Harder please–” I start to beg, and he slams into me with more force than before, but still, it’s not enough. He seems to sense it and begins to drill into me at a pace I would have never called sexy before I felt Marcus start it. Somehow it’s all different being tied down, forced to take it.

Our breathing grows labored as the slap of his skin against mine becomes the only other sound in the room. I’m not a screamer, but the sounds I’m making make me grateful Marcus lives alone. I’ve never been this close to an orgasm with just a cock before.

“Fuck, keep going, Marcus. Please. I’m so close.”

And bless the man, he’s going to be sore for days, but he does, slamming into me until I’m practically screaming his name as the first orgasm I’ve ever had thanks exclusively to a cock shakes me to the core. My body refuses to let it go. I feel myself clenching around his cock and he groans, finally dropping on top of me.

I really want to wrap my arms around him, but first, I have to breathe again. I lay still, even as my entire lower body shutters over and over again.

“Can you release my arms?” I finally manage to say after a long moment. He loosens the straps until I can finally free my wrists. I wrap my arms around him and pull him close to my body.

His chest hairs tickle my bare skin in the best way. “I’ve made a mess on your bed,” I whisper in his ear.

He chuckles and whispers back. “Then this thing was worth every penny.”