Hunting Sunsets

Fifteen

The cool air conditioned California air made goosebumps rise on my exposed arms, hair standing up on the back of my neck. My tired eyes were devouring the shirtless man in front of me, my careful attention dipping back to the the harsh v-lines disappearing under his black skinny jeans and leather belt.

I never understood the appeal of skinny boys that looked like boyband singers. Maybe it was their femininity or their lack of controversial features that made them palatable for a variety of audiences. I, on the other hand, liked a more exotic boy. I liked a man with muscles, something others considered to be too much. I enjoyed deep, monotone eyes where others focused on unique tones. I liked a commanding presence that was equally as unfriendly in public as mine, others thought it made them an asshole. I liked when men had veins on their arms, some women found it utterly disgusting. My tastes in men were not for everyone, but I would always think I was right.

"I need to find you a girlfriend," I announced sneakily, watching Smith's reaction carefully as he glanced up from the rough rope he was wrapping around my waist.

"Trying to get rid of me?" He quipped teasingly, arching his straight black brow. Smith's knuckles brushed my lower abdomen as he tied purposeful knots.

"I feel bad leaving you hanging," I jabbed back. "I know not everyone has pussy being thrown at them like me." I would have flipped my hair, but my bound hands make that slightly more difficult.

"Mhm..." he hummed sarcastically. "Maybe you just need a girl down for a threesome," Smith joked, rubbing his right hand over my navel as the two rope ends were threaded between my legs effortlessly.

"I'm a fan of this set," he murmured in reference to the scandalous sapphire lingerie barely covering it lower body. Bras never managed to stay on my figure for long around Smith.

"I thought you would be," I breathed. Smith was a visual man and not just in the bedroom; he hunted for the aesthetic. I'm surprised he wasn't a photography major at this rate. He had an eye for beauty and elegant lingerie was one of his turn ons. "And I don't know many girls at our disposal that would be down for the type of sex we have."

"Siya?" Smit joked sarcastically, his right hand palming my firm ass as he snaked the rope over to the front of my body again.

"If she didn't pass out, she'd never look at us the same again," I laughed lightly, trying to keep my mind off of my current position.

"Vanilla is boring," Smith whispered deeply, pulling up when he finished his artful loops around my ass and my waist. A closed mouth yelp left my lungs as I stood on my toes in a reaction, attempting to relieve the sudden pressure down the center of my core. Smit smirked to himself, clearly enjoying my predicament as he tied more knots along my waist to secure his careful work. "Problem, Baby?"

"No," I breathed in an exhale, aching to rest my hands on his shoulders. I watched intently as Smith subconsciously bit the inside corner of his lip, eyeing me up and down. Carefully, he circled me like I was his prey. "Jess thinks I should admit I've been sleeping with someone by the third date," I slipped in, keeping with our relaxed theme.

"Must you always bring up the people you're involved with when we're messing around?" Smith quipped from behind me, shocking me as his hand made contact with my delicate flesh.

"It makes the sex better," I taunted upon recovering from by already bruising ass. I would still feel the sting prominently as Smith finished his circling, resting the rope below and above my breasts. The last loop was the tightest, placed over my sensitive nipples covered by my lacy lingerie.

"In all fairness, Jess is probably right."

"So tell me," he continued while looking down at me with his famous hooded gaze. Romance novels always talked about the intensity of a stare, and quite honestly that never made sense to me in a romantic sense, but I was perfectly on the same page when it came to sexual tension and subservience. That look alone would get my on my back without even trying. "Am I working with a time clock here?"