“Hello, Lowell. Lev says you are going to finish my tour?” Emphasizing the word “finish,” I silently laugh at his expression.
He seems to realize I’m teasing him again, and a glint comes into his eye. “You didn’t help her finish?” He turns to Lev, with a frown.
Shit. That isn’t what I meant. I mean, I did, but not to embarrass Lev...good grief.
Lev glares at Lowell. “A persistent bastard interrupted us.”
“Hmm...well, let’s see if I can take care of that for you, huh?” Lowell reaches out and pulls me towards him. With a hand on my back, he guides me out of Lev’s room. “How long until dinner?”
“About an hour,” Lev tells him. “Don’t be late.”
Laughing, Lowell waves him off. “It might be worth it.”
I look back and blow Lev a kiss as I walk away, hoping he’s not mad. He gives me a big wink. I guess not.
“So, where are we going?” Glancing up at Lowell, I see a smirk on his face.
“To finish your tour. So tell me, where haven’t you been?”
Not sure whether to take him seriously, I give him a list of the places Lev showed me.
Thinking, he tells me I’ve seen nearly all of the house except for Shaw and Thayer’s quarters and, of course, his rooms. Guiding my back, we cross over to the stairs and head up to the second floor. I might be nervous now. The only thing Lowell and I have done is kiss. Although that tango was damn sexual.
At the top of the stairs, he motions to the left and tells me those are Thayer’s rooms. Turning right, he strides to the first door and opens it. It’s an office, filled with windows and shelves of books. By the window sits a massive desk, filled with books and papers. I’m almost in shock at the clutter. This doesn’t even feel like Lowell.
“I know, it’s a mess. For some reason, I can’t work when everything is orderly. It’s like I need a messy environment to see all the different threads to a story.” His cheeks are red as he quickly pulls the door shut.
Looking up at him, I laugh. “I’m surprised you let me in on your dirty little secret.”
“The better to prepare you for more surprises.”
My eyebrows rise as I wonder what else is coming.
We walk to the next door, and he opens it to a bedroom. Everything is in shades of dark green, with black accents. This room feels like Lowell. It’s super orderly, with a recliner that has a book lying on it. His couch is more formal looking than Lev’s slouchy couch. The bed is intriguing, though, as I didn’t expect Lowell to have a four-poster bed.
Looking closer, I notice strange black loops hanging from the posts. Walking over, I lay my cardigan on the bed and reach out to grab the loops. They’re made of a soft black cord.
As Lowell comes to stand close to me, I ask, “What in the world?”
He reaches out and shows me how the loops slide up and down and lengthen and shorten. Putting my hand in one loop, he also shows me how they tighten. Slowly, I begin to comprehend the purpose of the loops. Flushing, I turn to face him, my one hand in the loop and my other at my side, waiting for him to tell me more.
Watching my face, he reads the desire to know more and reaches out to grasp my other hand. “Sometimes, it’s better to show than tell.”
Turning me around, he reaches for my looped hand and pulls it towards the top of the post. Once my arm is stretched out above me, he lifts my other hand over my head and pulls it through a loop beside the first one, then tightens it, too. When he turns me back around to face him, the loops hold my hands above my head, tied to the post. And just like that, the fire Lev started earlier comes roaring back to life.
Trailing his hands down my body, Lowell leans in and gives me one of his trademark controlled kisses. Brushing my hair back from my face, he suddenly grips it tightly in his hand and pulls my head back to deepen the kiss. He’s so tall, I have to stretch up on my toes to meet his mouth, which brings my stomach into contact with his cock. Moaning, I shift my hips, trying to press up against him. He pulls his body back until I subside, then lightly presses back into me. Rubbing his cock against my stomach, I can feel how hard he is beneath his clothes. I move my body to get closer, and he presses me back against the bedpost.
“Stay there, and don’t move unless I tell you. If anything gets to be too much, just say, ‘Tango.’”
He waits until I give him my agreement and, simultaneously, my willingness to let him do whatever he wants. Sighing, as if a huge weight is off his shoulders, he goes back to kissing me. He uses his grip in my hair to maneuver my mouth the way he wants it. Sometimes he pulls it back so he can deepen the kiss. Sometimes he pulls it to the side so he can skim his lips down my neck. As he runs across the hot spot on my neck, I shiver, and he pulls back to watch me as he lightly strokes the spot with his finger. My body pulls away from the post in an involuntary arch. In response, he bites down on my shoulder as punishment for disobeying his orders, just hard enough that an arrow of desire shoots straight down to my clit.
Fuck me! I’ve never had anyone bite me and didn’t know it would feel so good.
Soothing the bite with his tongue, he grips my hips and pushes my body back against the post. Raising his hands, he pulls up my tank top and slips it over my head, but he can’t take it off due to the restraints. He leaves it behind my neck, using it as another restraint on my body. His fingers skim over the bullet wounds. He leans down and bites softly around them, turning them from something to hide into pinpoints of desire and need.
Unclasping my bra, his fingers map my breasts, getting to know their shape before cupping them to feel their weight in his hands. Pinching the nipples, he watches my body move restlessly. I don’t make a sound, though. He takes a firmer grip, twisting and pinching. A moan slips past my lips.
“Harder, please,” breathlessly, I beg him. He twists harder. It’s not enough. “Harder, Lowell.” My pleas are demanding now.
