She had no idea why she’d done it—other than maybe in an attempt to displace—replace—the unsatisfactory Christmas she’d had in Chicago. Fire lit? Check. And why had she taken care in how she dressed? The guy was just delivering her lost bag. Why had she felt so thrilled yesterday when he’d called and said he could deliver it this evening—New Year’s Eve—unless she wouldn’t be home. Of course she’d be home. She’d invested her whole social life in Neal for the last two years. Every night a phone call to check on each other. That should have been a clue—how rarely he’d been able to talk for long when she called him, if he answered the phone at all. Where did she have to go now that he was gone? It was too soon to have picked up her life again. More to the point, why did she let him become the center of her life at all? But why did she feel so spaced out and giddy just to receive her lost bag. Over the past two days, she’d had time and opportunity to question whether she even wanted the. Pulling it out of me, he sees the glistening toy dripping with my juices and licks my liquid essence off of it and puts it aside. Spying my overnight bag, he finds the handcuffs and silk ties. Looking at me with an evil grin, he says, “I know you had a plan last night. Judging from the pink outfit you wore, you were up to no good as usual. Last night, I came by your door to punish you for interrupting me and heard you masturbating and saying my name over and over again. Ebony Girl, you got me so hard, I had to take care of myself. Twenty minutes ago, I heard you moaning and saying my name when I came up to change out of my sweaty clothing. I stood here watching you pleasure yourself as I jerked myself. The sheen on your body just made me hotter and I’ve yet to come inside of that tight pussy of yours.” Straddling my body, he ties my hands to the brass headboard with the silk scarves. He unhooks my bra, peeling it off as though it weighs as much as a feather. Licking his lips, he.
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