He Bought My Nights in the Dark, and I Hated Him by Day novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Twine

I tied his left wrist to the bunk rail before he understood what I was doing.

I had carried a length of tarred twine down the dock in my coat pocket.

I had decided in the car that I would use it or throw it in the lake.

"Don't move your hand," I said.

He had been about to turn me onto my back, and he stopped, one knee on the mattress.

"What's that?" he said.

"A cod-end knot. It holds a ton of fish. It will hold you."

I felt him flex against the cord, testing, and the rail did not give.

His breath changed.

"Try to get loose," I said. "I dare you."

"Don't you dare."

I found his right hand in the dark and tied that wrist to the other rail.

I pulled the knot snug and kissed the inside of his arm.

I ran my mouth up the underside of it, over the hard muscle and the pulse that was pounding.

I felt him lift against the twine.

I pushed him down flat on the bed.

He lay there with his arms stretched above his head, naked and trussed and breathing hard.

I got to my knees between his legs and put my hands on his thighs.

I had not decided to do what I did next.

I bent down and took his cock into my mouth.

He swore, loud and low, and his hips jerked up off the sheet.

He was heavy on my tongue and salt and warm.

I took the head first and sucked.

I flicked my tongue underneath where the skin was softest, and he shuddered all the way down his body.

"Jesus. Wait."

I did not wait.

I slid my mouth down, taking as much of him as I could.

I wrapped my fist around the part I couldn't, and I began to move.

I went slowly, up and down, with my cheeks hollowed and my tongue pressing the vein beneath, and I listened to what he did.

He groaned when I went deep.

He cursed when I pulled off and licked the tip.

His thighs shook under my hands, and the twine creaked on the bunk rail.

"You're going to kill me," he said. "Fuck, that's good. That's so good."

I took him deep again and held, and my eyes watered, and I hummed around him.

He made a sound I had never heard a man make.

"Stop. Stop, or I'll come, and I want to be inside you."

I let him slide out of my mouth, wet and shining with spit, and I sat up on my heels, breathing hard.

My own thighs were slick.

I was so turned on by his helplessness that I was ashamed, and I did not stop.

I crawled up his body and straddled his hips and held his cock against my stomach.

"I want to hear you say what you want," I said.

"I want to be inside you."

"Ask me nicely."

"Please," he said, rough as gravel. "Please, Christ, let me fuck you."

I rose on my knees and lowered myself, an inch at a time, and in the black I felt every one of them.

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