I was primping and Elliot was digging for cufflinks. Who the hell wears cufflinks anymore, you ask? My man. That’s who.
“I told your mother you’d come and meet her new beau this weekend,” I said, chewing my lip to keep from laughing.
He stilled and my pulse picked up. His fingers that had been tickling through his nightstand debris stopped and he looked up at me. His cool green eyes were curious and starting to darken a bit with approaching annoyance. “You what?”
“She calls me all the time!” I said, trying not to smile. I knew it was cruel, but I’d done it anyway. A bit of a payback for his constant overtime as of late. I felt neglected and lonely and my revenge had been to toss him to his mom and her new boyfriend Bob like tossing a wounded antelope to a particularly hungry lion.
“So?” He started to move his hands again, but I felt him watching me.
“So, why doesn’t she call you and ask you to meet Bob? Bob who boats, Bob who golfs, Bob who collects vintage beer cans.” I put my earrings in, spritzed myself with perfume and straightened my necklace.
When I turned to him, he was watching me. Fiercely. Now I felt like the antelope.
“So you tell her that. Mother June, call Elliot yourself.”
“Mother June,” I snorted. “What is this, the fifties?”
He almost smiled.
“Now you ruined my plans for the weekend,” he said. Something in his voice made me hesitate.
“What do you mean?”
Elliot shrugged. “Nothing. Can you help me, Lex?”
He called me Lex instead of Alexis, he couldn’t be too mad.
“What are we looking for?” I hovered over the drawer and sighed when his hand came up to stroke me behind my knee. His hand whispered across my nylons and the touch was perfect. Not too hard, not too soft. Not too innocent but not too rough.
“The small TARDIS cufflinks,” he said, grinning.
“God. The Doctor at dinner, even,” I said, but I laughed. “I don’t see them…”
“Here, sit. Maybe I left them in the bathroom.”
Elliott stood and I sat, pushing around the stuff in his top dresser drawer. Antacids, pens, a small travel packet of aspirin, lube, a pair of fur lined handcuffs…I laughed at that and wondered where the plain steel pair was. I pushed back a book on cocktails, a cigar catalog and a pair of nail clippers. No cufflinks.
I felt him take my hand, and I smiled. Until I felt him take the other and heard the missing plain steel cuffs make their clinky ratcheting sound. “Elliott!” I yelped.
His lips were pressed in a tight line and in his eyes danced a glimmer of amusement. But there was also annoyance there, I wasn’t so self-delusional as to miss that. “You ruined my plans,” he said again, tsking softly and shaking his head.
I watched him pull off his tie and my mouth opened and closed on its own. “I…what…Elliot!”
“I know I’ve been working a lot lately,” he said. He grabbed the handcuffs by the short bit of connecting chain and raised my arms up. The motion made my breasts jut out and press fully into the black bodice of my dress. His eyes danced over the modest but enticing bit of cleavage there. He tugged and I watched transfixed, my normally big mouth not moving a bit.
Elliot stretched my arms back just a hair more and hooked my cuffed hands over the knob of our bedpost. Gravity and the fact that the bedpost was just a bit higher than my arms meant I was stuck like this until he let me out. I felt instantly claustrophobic and…wet. A thrill coursed through the center of me and moisture pooled in my fancy silk panties. I’d dressed up to go out and now I was tethered to my own bed.
“Well…you have,” he said. I was mortified to find that my eyes were tearing up.
Elliot studied me and nodded once, briskly. “I’m sorry. I had planned, this weekend, to keep you in bed for the duration. Eating and lounging and reading the paper.” He idly pushed my bodice down just a bit and pulled my breast free so it rested on the crushed, bunched up fabric. His thumb swept back and forth over my tender pink nipple and I watched, transfixed, as it pebbled, puckered, and beaded up into a knot under his soft touch. It was like a magic trick and if it weren’t for the spears of pleasure working their way under my skin and inching down to settle between my thighs, I’d wonder if he was actually touching me. It felt more like being mesmerized by a trick of the eye.
“Oh,” I said. Because it was the most intelligent thing I could think to say.
“I was going to touch you,” Elliot said, his voice a soft, sensual caress. The other breast was positioned to his liking and he proceeded to tease that nipple to attention as well.
My pulse was now pounding in my chest, my temples, my throat…my cunt.
“And taste you…” Elliot squatted and quickly—with his deft surgeon hands—shimmied the skirt of my dress up my thighs and over my hips. Above my thigh high stockings my bare thighs prickled with goose bumps.
“And fuck you,” he said, leaning in to place a chaste kiss right on the gusset of my black panties.
My breath caught and I noticed the sting and ache in my shoulders. But more than that, I noticed the thump and bang of arousal in my pussy. Elliot pinned me with his gaze, his bright green eyes brilliant and amused. He slid a single finger under the elastic of my panties and found the center of me, my wetness. He slid that finger in slow and easy, never looking away from me. When I tried to swallow, my throat clicked. I realized I was holding my breath.
His finger curled inside of me, triggering a cascade of pleasant spasms in my pussy. I tried to move against his hand but he withdrew his finger and pressed the slick digit to my clitoris. I whimpered.
“But now,” he sighed, sitting back on our pristine white carpet. “I have to meet Bob.”
“I…oh, God. Elliot! Don’t—” I was shaking my head, babbling. He’d brought me down to desire and sensation. I couldn’t even form a fucking sentence.
“Hold that thought, lover,” he said and got to his feet. He kissed my forehead and left the room. Left me there. Arms bound, stomach turning, panties soaked, breasts bared. I’d never been more turned on, or more frustrated.