Page 100 of Dance for Me

“Better, Sir, thank you.”

Braun retrieved the cushion and, carefully cupping her knee to raise it, slid the soft padding under her. This time, he settled the top half of her cast onto it so the stool took the weight. “And that?”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” she murmured.

“Excellent. Moving onto the next stage,” he told her, brushing his hand over her shoulder, then—unable to resist temptation—trailed his fingers down to tweak one budded nipple. Her moan nearly brought him to ruin.

Taking the second rope, he started again. Circle, knot. Circle, knot. From above her elbow, he worked his way up her biceps, over the tops of her shoulders and back down her other arm, encasing her breasts as he went. Painstakingly, he connected rope to rope, knot by knot, until her upper body wore a silken tapestry.

For his own entertainment, he settled hard bumps of soft material against her nipples, teasing them to painfully sensitive peaks as she breathed. Her moans were coming faster now, mewling little cries of pleasure.

And begin.

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Chapter Seventeen

This isn’t as bad as I expected.

Hovering blissfully in her happy place, Bodie smiled. Having her hands tied made her uneasy, but Braun kept his word. If she opened her eyes, she could see him. When he murmured to her, she could hear him. His scent filled her lungs with every breath she took.

It was weird, this place she found herself in.

Light, floaty, other.

Cocooned in a web of the smoothest, softest silk, there was no room for fear. Errant thoughts of panic passed by without pause, and not once did she feel the need to reach out and latch onto one. She was safe here, wrapped in Braun’s ropes while she...she just bobbed along on a slow river, in tune with her body down to the surge of blood pulsing through her veins.

For the first time in six months, she wasn’t a broken shell of the woman she’d been. Here, her leg wasn’t ruined, pinned and plated together. Here, she was whole, dancing to the rhythm of her Master’s words and the slide and tug of rope.

Frissons of bliss assaulted her with every breath. Warmth banked between her thighs, ready for a gentle breath to ignite the furnace. Her breasts, caught in Braun’s silken trap, ached and yearned for his touch to replace the sweet torment of the knots.

Damn, he was good.

“Still overwhelmed, little one?”