The Mammoth Book of Erotica Presents The Best of Saskia Walker by Saskia Walker

Author:Saskia Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Constable & Robinson

That night he took her back to his place and told her he was going to kick it up a notch. The way he said it scared her and thrilled her at the same time.

Shortly after, she found herself naked and blindfolded, standing with her back against the wall, her hands splayed either side of her – just as he had instructed. Keyed up to the max, she shifted anxiously, unable to stay still. She’d never been blindfolded before, but the velvet covering her eyes was soft as a sigh, a shield that raised the awareness of her every other sense. Her body ached for contact, for pleasure and relief.

She could sense him moving.

The room was silent and the air was still, but she knew he was treading softly, watching her and making a plan. That was his way. Maybe she’d sensed that in him when she’d watched him across the counter. It was his curiosity, and his intensity, that had spiked her interest. Rightly so, as it turned out.

She heard a click and a fan whirred into action. A moment later the air brushed over her alert skin, tantalizingly. A whimper escaped her.

He began to hum under his breath, then he sang to her huskily. A song she loved. A song from ages ago. Breathless, aroused laughter escaped her; she felt delirious under his spell. “Dougie, please, you’re playing with me.”

“Always, sweetheart, but you love that.”

He was so right. She squeezed her thighs together, scared to say more, and scared to ruin this.

“Will it drive you mad, not being able to see where I choose to write on you?”

“I don’t know.” She swallowed. “Maybe.” She turned her face away, desperate with longing for that first touch, the pressure she craved – her skin was crawling with the need for it. Watching him write on her was half the pleasure, she thought. Not seeing it was an unknown quantity. But Doug knew and understood that, and – now – so did she.

Slowly, he drew a line around each wrist.

Her arms trembled with the sheer intensity of sensation that shot along the surface of her skin, and deeper.

“Shackles.” His voice was a murmur close to her. “Because I want you to be mine.” He kissed her throat and then, slowly, with great deliberation, he signed his name right across her breastbone.

“Oh. Oh, oh,” she cried. The intense sensation shot beneath her skin, wiring her whole body into the experience. Her nipples were hard and hurting. She shuddered with arousal, her toes curling under, her heart thudding against the wall of her chest.

His next move came out of nowhere. He drew along the crease at the top of one thigh, then the other. The sudden deep stimulation in a place so sensitive primed her for release. She longed to see his marks on her.

“The insides of your thighs are wet, right down to here.” There was admiration in his voice. Restraint, too. He touched her with the pen, briefly, between her thighs, and it made her squirm up against the wall.

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