Forbidden Fruit

24. Why talk when you can play with ropes instead?

TWENTY-FOUR

WHY TALK WHEN YOU CAN PLAY WITH ROPES INSTEAD?

I t must be close to midnight a week later when I decide to do something about the anxiety spiking through my bloodstream.

I’ve already done my evening yoga and tried breathing exercises, but I’m still thinking about Lino. About that kiss. Again. And I want to feel connected to him somehow.

I pull the ropes I had delivered from the drawer I hid them in. Not that anyone would come sniffing around my stuff, but I guess I felt self-conscious about having them.

The new red hemp feels rough against my fingers as I untangle the two ropes, then fold both of them in half like Milo showed us.

Maybe I’ve been practising yoga for too long and don’t realise when I dissociate during my sequences anymore because this level of focus as I tie myself from the hips down feels different. I can’t let my mind go; every pass of the rope against my skin heightens my senses. The smell of the new threads evokes excitement. I anticipate the tugs I give them on my thighs with trepidation. I’m proud of myself as I recall how to tie the ends of my first rope with the ‘bite’ of my second and continue on my way down to my ankles.

When I’m done and the flesh expands above the strands of hemp, I do my best to sit back down on the couch, with my legs straight and just feel. I bring awareness to every single inch of my legs and let myself just be.

Nothing else matters in this moment but how my blood pounds in my veins and how the pressure makes me mellow, relaxing my muscles.

I continue like this for a while, letting my attention drift from my right hip to my knee all the way down to my right ankle, then up through my left side all the way to my hip. Like a continuous circle.

I startle and let out a scream as a knock comes on my door.

“Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.”

“Vanessa? Can we talk?” Lino’s voice comes from behind the door, almost anxious and pleading.

“Ugh, right now isn’t a good time, Lino.” I hesitate, then hold my breath, hoping he will leave. How can this week get more fucked? First the orgasm, then the kiss and now this?

“Please,” he breathes and even with the walls between us, I hear him loud and clear. My heart clenches as I imagine him, forehead to the door, hoping I’ll just say yes and remove the physical barrier between us.

“Okay, give me a minute.”

As fast as I can for a newbie, I untie everything and slide the ropes under the couch, then run to the door and open it with a whoosh of air.

Lino frowns as he takes me in. He’s still wearing the same clothes as earlier, the wide linen beige pants cinching his waist almost indecently. He’s discarded the jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his strong forearms dusted with dark brown hair. The first two buttons of his dark green shirt are open to reveal his chest and I can’t help the flashback from the other night, making my mouth go dry.

“What were you doing?” he asks, like he expects someone to come out of the closet.

Somehow, that makes me furious.

“None of your business. What are you doing here? I’m off the clock.”

His eyes darken, and he advances on me. I take a step back into the flat. The sound of the door closing as Lino invades my space is deafening, and I swallow, all too aware of his presence and of the way the fabric of his clothes shift as he moves.

“Do you think because we kissed, you can be mouthy with me, Vanessa?” he asks darkly.

The back of my legs hit the couch and once again, I’m trapped and exactly where he wants me. With one finger, he lifts my chin and I meet his hungry gaze. “Answer me, zitella .”

My intake of breath is sharp as I close my eyes to savour his voice and the nickname he keeps using for me. Not only does it set my skin on fire and definitely makes me wet, but it awakens something deep inside my soul. It reminds me that it’s okay to be taken care of, sometimes. I’ve never had that and Lino makes me want to surrender and just let him.

I must keep my eyes closed for too long because Lino’s fingers glide around my throat and give a tentative squeeze. My lids fly open and I answer him. “No, Daddy.”

“ Goddamn ,” he says on a heavy exhale. “If you keep calling me that, I’m going to bend you over and fuck that weeping pussy until you can’t walk.”

I moan loudly, then flush crimson. “I still work for you,” I say in an effort to create space between us.

As much as my heart rate kicked up at his promise, and my underwear got ruined, I’m not sure what we’re doing and I can’t take the tension. I need to know why he’s here, why I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff, and why I couldn’t just fall in lust with anyone but my boss.

He takes a step back and burying his fingers in his hair, pulling at his roots with both hands, turning his back to me. When he turns around, it’s like another man is in my flat and my heart falls to my feet.

“We should talk about the kiss.”

He avoids looking at me below my face and I just wish he’d take a very good look at my tiny sleep shorts and just fall to his knees and beg to bend me over like he just said he would.

My mind and body are at war and I’m not sure which one I want to win.

I swallow and cross my arms over my chest to bring a modicum of comfort into this awkward as hell situation. I’m horny, embarrassed and most of all, I feel exposed. Naked. I just want this conversation to be over already.

“We can pretend nothing happened,” I say, like it’s a question.

Lino sighs. “No, Vanessa. We can’t. I crossed a line last week when I…” He swallows thickly then squares his shoulders and hides any real reaction under a mask of indifference but I know better. I’ve seen the lust on his face. He couldn’t take his hands off me. And he kissed me again after that first time. I was a willing participant, but still. “I crossed a line when I touched you.”

“And when you kissed me. Twice,” I sass. I know he doesn’t like it but hell, it’s not like this is a one-time thing that can be blamed on the intensity of the workshop or the spur of the moment.

“And when I kissed you twice,” he concedes. “I apologise. Our relationship is purely professional, and I got carried away. I’m older than you and I’m your boss, we can’t keep… I was…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but I can fill in the blank by the expression on his chiselled face.

Sad. Lonely. Defeated. Confused. All of it.

I can’t speak, so I just nod.

Then his eyes drop to my legs before they come back up to meet mine. “Vanessa,” he growls my name and the shivers are back. “Did you tie yourself up tonight?”

I look down to follow where he’s looking and sure enough, the ropes left deep angry red marks all over my legs, criss-crossing in a tantalising design.

“It helped with my anxiety,” I say lamely and truthfully because I’ve lost the capacity for rational thought. Not knowing how he will react sends prickles of excitement through my entire body. My nerves feel like live wires ready to ignite with a touch, a word, anything he’ll give me.

His face softens, and he walks to the front of the couch, bending his knees to drop low. I turn to see what he’s doing. The ropes I hid there are now in his hands. They look like they belong there. He touches them reverently, like they speak to him of secrets and passion and carnal desires.

“Do you need me to help you with anxiety, Vanessa?”

A ridiculous squeak leaves my lips as I nod.

Lino stands back up. He looks between me and the ropes a few times, obviously battling with a decision. Then, he holds out a hand. “Come here.” His voice carries the command of someone who’s not used to being denied. I don’t want to refuse him, anyway. Not when he looks at me like I’m the centre of his solar system.

I take his hand but ask, “What about Anton and Livia? You can’t…”

His hand flies to my mouth just like it did before, eliciting a wave of wetness to pool at my centre. “My father is keeping watch, and I have the baby monitors in my pockets. Now, hush. Kneel on the sofa, legs apart.”

Goosebumps erupt as he controls me. The ropes aren’t even on my skin and already, my mind feels emptier. Like the chatter of what ifs and shoulds or should-nots just turn to white noise. I obey and position myself, gulping and letting my hands fall on my thighs.

“I’d need more than two ropes for what I have in mind for you, but this will do.” I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself or me. “Where are the sheers?”

“Coffee table.”

Lino nods, then shocks me and drops to his knees on the carpet. My breath hitches as I take in the best view of him. He immediately gets to work and ties the first rope around my waist with a knot I can’t help but get jealous of and admire. It’s nothing like the simplistic one I know.

He starts with my left leg, tying the back of my thigh to my calf before coming back up and creating intricate knots at the apex of my thighs that rest on each side of my pussy. His deft fingers are so close to where I’m wet and aching, the barely there touch absolute torture, and I clamp my lips tightly shut to suppress a moan.

It’s the smallest twitch of his mouth, but I’m watching Lino so closely, I don’t miss it. His fingers keep grazing against where I’m leaving a wet spot on my shorts and I can read the satisfaction on his handsome face. His clear grey eyes behind the glasses land on mine and don’t leave as he binds my right leg.

I observe him, but this time, I don’t get lost in him. I watch and search. His shoulders are tilted back with what looks like pride. His brow has softened and holds something akin to relief, a sentiment my whole body echoes.

Despite the heat of this moment, my desperation so thick I can taste it, Lino’s touch anchors me to the here and now. My erratic heartbeat is only a result of the current of tension and electricity between us, but anxiety is a feeling of the past.

When I’m all tied up, my wrists pinned to my thighs, legs open and pussy dripping, Lino rests on his haunches. He admires his work, a hint of awe glinting in the irises that have turned the colour of a stormy sky at sea, holding years of secret and history.

“How are you feeling? Any numbness?” he asks softly.

“No. I feel… free,” I giggle and Lino grins. His smile could light up the world if only he’d let it show. It makes me smile even wider, taking him in, so carefree and peaceful, on his knees in front of me. I might be the one bound by ropes with no way to escape, but we share that thread.

He leans forward and kisses my temple before whispering in my ear, “Good. Now, beg me to take care of that aching little pussy.”

I whine and bite my lip. “Oh, please , Daddy.”

Neither of us comment on what we’ve called each other every time we’ve let our inhibitions drop. It feels natural, genuine, and I know with how much his cock strains against his pants that he loves it.

“Goddamn, zitella ,” he swears under his breath.

Lino glides a finger over the fabric of my shorts and my face flushes with how wet I feel. Even if I wanted to hide my reaction, I wouldn’t be able to.

“Oh, baby. Is this all for me? Did you get all wet when Daddy tied you up like his perfect little doll?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

His touch is too soft and I whine again, trying to move my hips and seeking fiction but getting nothing. His laughter is dark when it reaches my ears. “You look so pretty when you’re needy and writhing. Will you beg me to make you come?”

“Anything for you, Daddy, just please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he counters playfully.

“More,” I beg. I don’t even care how that sounds. I need his fingers on me, inside me. I need anything he’s willing to give.

Lino stands up abruptly, but I don’t have time to feel disappointment. With one hand on the ropes at my lower stomach, he lifts me up. His forearm bunch, muscles swelling and straining. For a second, I’m suspended in the air and it’s the most liberating feeling I’ve ever experienced. I’m not in this space, yet I’m fully conscious of where the ropes bite into my skin. I feel floaty and grounded all at once.

And then my back hits the sofa.

Now I know why he bound me like he did. My legs are held wide open, the ropes doing the work for me. My fabric-covered pussy is fully exposed to Lino as he lowers back down to his knees and caresses the back of my legs. With control, he moves the fabric of my shorts aside and opens me up with two fingers. “Such a pretty sight, zitella . You have no clue how much I’m starving for your cum.” And then, his head lowers and his tongue swipes at my cunt from entrance to clit in a lavish stroke that has me seeing stars. He groans against my pussy. “You taste so good, zitella .”

I’ve received oral before, but this is a man making a proper meal out of me. This is someone desperate to taste me. His hands reach under my ass and lift me up to his mouth. His tongue enters me and I cry out. “Oh God, Daddy!”

Lino lifts his head and replaces his tongue with his thumb, never stopping the maddening little circles and figure eights.

“That’s it, get loud for me. No one can hear you but me.”

His encouragement fuels my need. My entire skin buzzes as my orgasm inches closer to the surface.

Lino gathers saliva at the tip of his tongue and I watch, riveted, as he spits on my clit. Wetness pools between my ass cheeks until I soak the couch underneath us. Lino’s tongue is back on me and swirls at my swollen clit.

“More, more, more,” I chant. “Please, Daddy, give me your fingers.”

I don’t know where the confidence comes from. Maybe it’s from the utter desire for the man between my thighs, the feeling of being everything he needs at this moment. Without delay, a thick digit enters me and I climax, my walls clenching around him, my whole body spasming with the strength of my release.

Lino keeps his finger inside me and inserts another, the come hither movement prolonging my orgasm for what feels like eternity.

I float. I let go.

And when I’m done, aftershocks have my pussy clenching around the fingers still buried deep in my cunt. Meanwhile, Lino still licks me leisurely, like he has all the time in the world and there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

With the rush of blood to my pussy, my legs start to feel numb and I tell him.

After one last kiss to my core, he withdraws and straightens up, untying the ropes methodically. Then, he rubs my legs and brings the blood flow back. It’s vigorous, yet tender and everything I need.

He hasn’t wiped at his face, and his mouth shines with the essence of me. I don’t think. I just act and wrap my arms around him before landing my lips on his. I taste myself and it makes me moan again.

My hips bracket his waist, where he still kneels in front of me. Lino holds me close to his body and my core lines up with his hard cock, making us both gasp. I drift a hand between us, but he stops me with a hand on my wrist.

“I didn’t come here for this.”

“But I want to make you feel good.”

“You did,” he says. “Tasting you was like being reborn. And before we go any further, we really need to talk. I keep getting carried away every time I’m too close.”

His forehead drops to mine, and he closes his eyes like speaking is hard, like his control is fraying. In other circumstances, I might revel in it, but he looks pained, and I want him to remain carefree and open. At least with me. If I can give him that, I will.

“What about I call you?” I ask. He frowns, not understanding my meaning. “You go back to your place and in fifteen minutes, I call you. Then we can talk without getting carried away.”

His lips press against my forehead, my entire body melting into him. Then he kisses my cheek and my mouth in a feather-light touch. “Okay.” He nods. “I’ll call you in fifteen minutes.”