Deviant Desires

by Sophie Graymont

Chaper 1

Yes, Baby

“What… here?”

“Why not?”

“I’m self-conscious.”

“We’re in the shadows, nobody’s watching. Nobody cares. Do you know you’re even cuter when you blush?”

The scarf was mulberry purple. Whorehouse purple. She’d popped it in her pocket rather than the handcuffs. Steel was too overt. Too risky for so early on.

He pushed her busy hands aside.

“Is this the same colour as your knickers?”

That made her smile. “Wouldn’t you love to know, cheeky boy,” she whispered hotly.

Pressing against him, pinning him to the wall with her bodyweight, she spread the silk scarf between her hands and tried to loop it around one of his wrists.

He slipped his hand out each time, deftly, playfully, without making it a big thing. Still, she could feel her competitive juices rising.

They were both panting a little with excitement and exhilaration. Dancing had made them warm.

She loved the way he moved. And the way he looked at her on the dance floor. She was sexy as fuck in the reflected glory of his clear frank blue eyes. Oh, yes baby, he smiled. No words, She knew it just from the way he shaped his mouth.

The dance floor was a fabulous place to flirt, to play tease and retreat. The come hither, the sensuous side-step.

He was equally good at it. She liked that. They made eyes at each other and did subtle, suggestive things with their tongues.

And it was perfect. Just the right kind of playful, just the right kind of sexy. Nothing lewd.

It was late, the place was pumping. A thumping track had the dance floor heaving. Laser beams intertwined above them like coloured searchlights, illuminating softly, momentarily, then plunging them back into deeper shadow.

They were in a back corner, where they could more-or-less hear each other. Even so, the music was loud, they had to put lips close to each other’s ears. Every word a hot breath.

Without using any real force, he tried to take possession of the scarf.

“Lemme tie you up, rather.”

They wrestled with their hands without looking down, watching each other’s eyes. And then she suddenly decided to let it happen.

She released her grip on the scarf.

“Show me what you’ve got, baby.”

Hot words growled huskily into his ear. A challenge.

He grinned fetchingly and wound the scarf around her wrists, which she held together in front of her, the heels of her hands together.

It wasn’t his first time, she could tell.

He made two loops, barely snug, but then drew them tight by cinching between her wrists, tying a good knot on the elbow side of the lashing and on the outside of her wrists where she couldn’t reach it with her teeth.

He did it all without even looking down, holding her gaze.

Off to the side she was aware that a girl with blue spiky hair was watching them. She didn’t care. It added spice.

She was breathing hard now, pressing against him. Her hands were firmly but comfortably bound. She twisted her wrists and found herself captive. He had done a good job.

She wanted to tell him that she was wet. They didn’t know each other well enough yet. Pressing against him, pushing a knee between his thighs, rubbing her pelvis against his, she could feel his erection inside his jeans.

She said, “Can we have our first kiss now?”