Make Me Say It by Beth Kery Read Free Book Online

don’t need to move,” he said when she started to rise to a sitting position in order to assist him. “I’ll get it on you.”
    He spoke truly. The contraption looked pretty confusing to her, but he manipulated it with an easy, sure mastery that amazed. It made her wary, too, to witness his expert handling of the positioner. He clearly had a lot of experience with it.
    He clearly had a lot of experience with other women.
    But his expertise also excited her, and that’s the emotion that trumped her doubt above all else.
    First, he secured a thick, padded primary strap around her back and ribs, just above her waist. Various other straps—and she realized, cuffs—came off this main strap.
    “Spread your legs, bend your knees, and lift your feet into the air,” he instructed. He moved between her open legs, still on his knees. He palmed the back of one of her thighs, his warm touch making her skin pebble. “Wider, Harper. Let your legs fall open wide to the side.” His gaze dipped between her thighs. “Let me see that gorgeous pussy. All of it. That’s right,” he murmured thickly when she had done as he requested.
    He attached a pair of thick, padded cuffs midthigh with a grim sense of purpose.
    “Oh,” she murmured in dawning wonder when he’d finished. The thigh cuffs were attached to the primary restraint that circled her torso. When her legs were in them, it kept her bent, spread thighs open, her feet suspended in the air, with no effort on her part.
    “Comfortable?”
    “Yes,” she replied, giving her weight experimentally to the leg restraints. It held secure.
    Next, he took her hands and slid them through a pair of thick shoulder straps. These were also attached to the primary restraint around her middle. He placed the straps around the outer curves of her breasts. When he snugly tightened both clasps on the strap, they plumped her breasts between them. A low, rough growl resounded from his throat, and Harper saw that his gaze was fixed on her straining breasts. He ripped his stare off her to continue with his task. She thought she understood his reaction. Even
she
thought her breasts looked like a sexy decadence, plumped as they were by the shoulder straps, the pink nipples poking upward, the pale delicacy of the globes highlighted by the stark black restraints. His rigid stare had made her recall all too vividly how excited he’d gotten on the yacht as he played with her breasts, how he’d teased and pleasured her until she wanted to scream. How much more focused would he be, given the positioner and the freedom of his skilled hands, not to mention her helplessness to move?
    She was finding this almost ridiculously exciting.
    “Now we just need to restrain your wrists,” he said, interrupting her unfurling fantasies.
    He lifted another cuff that was attached, again, to the primary torso restraint. She lifted her head, watching him. He slid the padded cuff around her wrist, tightening it snugly. When he was finished, her elbows were bent, her arms resting comfortably on the mattress. Her wrists were restrained on each side of her body just above her waist. She tugged at them experimentally and shifted her body, her breasts heaving between the shoulder straps. Heat swept through her chest and cheeks at the graphic realization that she was trussed up . . . and good.
    He caught her stare.
    “You okay?” he asked quietly. He knelt between her suspended, spread legs.
    “I think so.”
    His gaze coasted over her.
    “You look stunning. More amazing than I’d imagined.”
    His stare between her spread thighs was like a physical touch. She couldn’t hide her arousal. Her wetness. It was almost unbearable, her vulnerability to him. Her mounting excitement.
    “What now?” she asked shakily.
    “You tell me that you’re comfortable. And promise me that if at any point, your position grows uncomfortable, you’ll let me know.”
    “I’m comfortable,” she assured. “And I will. I