slipping beneath her ass at the last minute as she shuddered, hugging her
to him.
When they drifted down from the climax, he pulled out of her
and peeled off the condom, throwing it to the floor. Without a word, he got up
and went into the bathroom. Perplexed, she pulled at the red scarf, but for all
their play, he had tied it pretty tightly and her writhing had only tightened
it. Now that their lovemaking was done, though, she felt exposed and
vulnerable, and oddly unsettled about the random things he’d said to her before
and during this last bout of passion.
“Can you untie me please?” she called out over the sound of
the running water in the bathroom.
He came back in, incongruously brushing his teeth, a task he
paused in only to remark, “You know, I never went in much for kink. But I have
to admit the sight of you tied with red silk is strangely moving. I wish I had
some nipple clamps or something.”
Then he went back to brushing his teeth, wandering back into
the bathroom.
Jesus, what had she gotten herself into?
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or apprehensive when
after a moment, he came back in, sans toothbrush. Watching her from the side of
the bed, arms folded across his wide chest, he said, “How many guys have you
fucked?”
“What?”
“Okay, narrow it down to profs. How many professors have you
fucked?”
If this was some kind of variation on the student-sleeps-with-professor
fantasy, the edge of hostility in his voice kept her from enjoying it. The best
defense being a good offense, she stopped struggling against her silken binds,
and said, “I never picked up a puritanical streak in your writing, but I’ll
have to go back and look closer. Clearly, it’s there.”
He smirked and then straddled her, low on her thighs,
sitting back on his heels so she didn’t take his full weight. “If you think a
writer puts everything of himself into his work, you’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Right. Like how someone I could have admired for so long
could turn out to be such a jerk in real life.”
“I’m disappointed a student of your caliber should have such
a limited vocabulary. That’s about the tenth time you’ve used the word jerk to
describe me. Don’t you have anything more varied?”
“When you find something that works, stick with it, I always
say.”
He leaned up and untied her binds. Admiring his flat abs and
defined pecs as he did so, given the context, was so wrong. But damn it, she
couldn’t help herself. When her wrists were free, she started to use her palms
to lever herself up and out of bed, and he leaned back off her to let her do
so. Or so she mistakenly thought. Starting to scoot off of the bed, she was
startled when he yanked her back, flipping her face down, and those damn silken
ties came into play again.
Struggling didn’t do much good, so she didn’t bother as he
tied her hands behind her this time.
“Have you become a serial killer or something during your
recent sabbatical?”
“It’s not a sabbatical.” He pulled her up on her knees,
coming up behind her on his knees as well, so that she was practically sitting
on his lap, faced away from him, hands tied as securely behind her back as they
had been moments before to the bed posts. “I’m through. All washed up. Haven’t
you heard that?”
“No, I hadn’t. About the serial killer part…?”
He laughed, so close she could almost feel it in her ear.
With one knee, he kicked hers farther open, so that she straddled his lap. His
fingers came up to skim her shoulders lightly, then moved forward to run the
backs of his hands along her breasts. “I’m going to kill you with pleasure so
you can go back to your campus and give a really good accounting of yourself.”
She shook her head.
“Oh, sorry. Kill you with pleasure is kind of trite too.
See? I’ve lost my spark of genius.”
His light touch wandered down to her hip bones, then farther
in. She stirred, feeling him stir as well against