Chapter 64 CHAPTER 64
Alina's POV
"Shit." I could barely get the word out, the strap on my chest clenched hard instantly from that movement. Sandwiching my girls, causing a force spill at the top.
"Stay still,” he commanded, eyes meeting mine. My boobs next, the new strap, my body and then back to my waist. The strap there. "Don't. Move."
O-okay?
But you're not the one tied up on a really soft chair that's squeezing your ass, waist, boobs and sending all sorts of signals through to your brains. If anything I felt more aware than before of my entire body. Literally everything. His gaze, closeness, the warmth from his fingers when he slightly pressed at my belly and the strap there.
What he was doing, I had no idea. I just knew he was close. Too close for comfort and mental well-being.
“Look, can you-
“Do you feel this?” he asked instead, cutting me off. Not looking up. I looked down, seeing it was the frame glued at my sides he was referring to. “Feel that?” he pressed it.
“No,”
“How about this?” he pulled it right back. I shook my head, “No.”
But again, wrong move. The frame moved. Made me move. But not around this time, my legs moved instead. My thighs. They sharply lifted higher, more straps bursting out and tying me to the frame. Holding me down, tight as I froze.
“Fuck,” I could only let out, slightly breathless as I sat. Lips parted, my eyes going down on myself and then to him.
He moved too. Pulled at the just burst out straps with his fingers, my eyes squeezing shut as he did. Teeth clenching. He pulled harder, I squeezed harder but not my fist or anything. I squeezed my insides. My pussy. Involuntarily.
The straps…they were doing something to me, making him do things to me, using him to do things to me!
“Oh my God, please just stop. You’re making it worse.” I protested,
“Hold on,” he pressed, moved his hand again. Both hands this time. Pulling from underneath the strap, right on my skin, my thighs. My naked thighs.
“C’mon…”
Shit.
Shit!
“You’re making it worse, Roman!” I snapped, breathed out like I was breathless. Moving away from him, or at least wanting to. I was trapped. Trapped and unmoving with him low before my naked thighs.
Plus, that little movement from me cost me almost immediately. More straps burst out from nowhere, cool to my skin, fast like a snake and tight like viper all around what was left of thighs, belly and finally, my neck.
I got me a choker.
Now that got his attention. Properly.
“Oh shit,” he paused, hands off. Rising slowly, eyes on me. Taking me in. “This little shit just keep getting interesting.”
Interesting, huh?
I didn't feel interesting right now. I felt hot. Hot and bothered. Highly uncomfortable in my current position, also with a sheer amount of powerlessness, openness and proper violation.
Hell, my thighs were all out on display right now!
And my dress. Oh my God, my dress! it was all torn up and ripped to allow this fucked up position the frame had placed me.
My legs were at different angles right now. One at nearly 90%, and the other at rest. Effectively tearing my ass open and wide for all to see. Or this case, for Him to see.
Have you ever being in a situation where your thighs are completely parted open, held back by firm straps right at a strange sculpture you’re sitting on, your professional dress torn, back pushed all the way out, boobs in your face, spilling, moving up and down as you try to take sharp breaths to just calm the fuck down???
Have anyone being in this situation before, and worse with a man in front of you. A man that you know, that you detest, your fucking ex. Fucking exboyfriend!
How juicy is that, huh??
That’s the situation I’m in.
“Hmm,”
I stared at him, breathing. Hard. Wanting to glare at him but not being able to, not when my entire inner thighs were itching and exposed to his eyes. A strange type of excitement buzzing on my skin.
“What?” I asked, “What are you laughing for? Why are you smiling at me?”
“Me smiling?” he cocked his head to the side, staring down at me. That stupid signature smirk dying at the edge of his lips. “I’m not smiling, brown eyes. I’m just admiring.”
“Admiring huh?” I wet my lips, swallowing gently. Not wanting to anger my choker. “What are you admiring? Stop staring at me. Stop looking at me like that, help me. Help me get out of this.”
“I will,” he said, “But now we both know nothing’s wrong with the equipment. It’s all good and functioning. Functioning really well.”
Oh my lord… this bastard. This perverted bastard.
“Help me?” I still said to him, “Help me or at least go get the lady. I want off this thing.”
“The lady?” he turned back a bit, smirking. But then he faced me again, “I’ll get you out, don’t worry. Let me do it.”
I was apprehensive of course. didn’t want him anywhere closer to me than he already was. But then again, I didn’t want to sit down on the frame like some excited slut with the torn dress rather than the creative consultant I came in here looking like.
So I kept quiet.
Let him help me.
But maybe that was the problem.
The silence. Me keeping quiet. The silence between us as he got back down to help me. Cause as he did, starting with the straps on my legs and thighs first…
It suddenly didn’t feel like he was helping me. Rather it felt like something else. Something that had me swallowing slowly, my muscles tensing, eyes pinned on his very form between my legs, my thighs. His fingers slowly creeping on there, tracing the straps of course but the straps were on my skin. My naked, exposed thighs.
And the thought, the sight of him staying there, in between the space created, checking me all out while my center laid open and waiting, gradually soaking wet as I sat there.
That undid something in me.
Something violent. Reckless, and totally un-creative consultant-like.
“What are you doing?” he asked slowly, eyes up at mine.
“What,” I simply mouthed, sitting still. Rigid. Like he’d find out.
And he did.
“You’re tense,” he said, “You hold your breath when you’re tense or uncomfortable.”
Hmm.
Back on that memorable shit?
“I’m not tense,” I looked away then. Slowly. Just with my eyes, not my head. Silence followed after. Zero movements too.
A moment passed.
Another moment.
Some more moments.
A few additional moments and I moved my eyes right back to his. Only to find him already staring.
No words from either of us. Just silence. Me strapped down all over, and him free, squatted between my thighs. Eyes green as ever.
“Roman…” I started,
“Don’t.” he halt me. Voice dropped low, eyes lower. Smirking and everything gone. “Let’s get you out of these things.”
He put back his hands on me then. Not harsh. Not soft either. Just…firm. Serious.
The air had changed. I felt it.
He paused after a few moments, “Try adjusting a little bit.”
I obeyed. Slightly skeptical, but I think I moved my waist. Feeling the pressure drop just a little, surprise in my eyes as I stared at him.
“I felt that,” I said.
He nodded. Quiet. Doing back what he just did. This time moving higher up the straps, leaving my thighs alone completely and focusing on my belly, which then led to my boobs. My very smashed out boobs.
“Feel that?” he did his thing on the strap hovering underneath my boobs. I nodded, slow. Wanting to clear my throat, make a little move, anything to somehow distract me from the warmth that was gradually reaching my boobs. My nipples.
He’d notice them for sure. Know what I was thinking, what was happening to me, what his hands were doing to me.
“I’m almost done,” his breath reached my face, adjusting to view my sides. My breath hitched, pulse spiraling out of control then. Eyes blinking as I tried to keep it together, keep still and just…
Oh God.
“Are you hurting?”
I didn’t dare look to answer that question. didn’t dare speak anything either. Could feel his gaze on me as I didn’t too.
Then without a word, he grabbed my face. My chin. Turning me right to face him, a stare and he lifted my jaw up a little, fingers taking hold of my neck, the choker there.
But that was it.
That was the breaking point.
A breath left my lips, trembling. His eyes quickly catching that, but instead of looking away or doing what he was on, he stared.
Stared at my lips.
And for more than a moment too. Long enough for me to catch it, notice he wasn’t looking away, he was really staring, and then slowly working his gaze up the rest of my face too. No words between us. Just silence. Thick silence. Thick enough that our breaths mingled in our faces, my pulse frozen at this point. His green eyes deep and dark, holding my own brown plain eyes but worse…
They held something.
They showed something, reflected an emotion, an emotion I knew all too well and had been living with for the past few months.
Lust.
Desire.
Starvation.
He was looking at me with these emotions in his eyes, and he wasn’t looking away.
He was really staring at me.
A few sounds echoed in the distance, getting closer and then-
“I’m back!” the door flew open right then. “Oh I’m so sorry ma’am that I left for so long and-
I froze.
We froze.
Our eyes on each other, then slowly turning away to look behind. The door. The lady sitting there. Staring at us. More than that, gawking at us. Speechless.
That when I remembered our position. How close we were right now, heavily inappropriate.
He seemed to remember too. Instantly springing back and away from me. Like he’d been burned. Standing back on his feet, myself still on my spot cause really…what was I to do? I was stuck.
“Welcome back, Rosey. You come finish what you started.” he simply said, normal. The lady blinking at us, speechless. Struggling to understand and place what she just walked into.
But she did.
“I err…I aplogize, sir. Ma’am.”
“No need, get her off.” he brushed off, turning away. Getting off the frame platform entirely. His back to me.
But I knew.
I knew that everything that just happened...
I felt that. All of that.
But so did he.