Blind Carnival

Bold Faced Proposition

Author's Note:

My darlings, as I was editing this chapter to post, I decided it might need a small disclaimed, namely a reminder that this story is of the mature nature. I'm also posting a DOUBLE update today, and these two chapters are the most risqué of this whole story. Also, there is a signature Katya Kolmakov KA-BOOM! at the end of the second part of today's update, and I can almost hear your screams of indignation regarding my love for cliff hangers.

Hope you enjoy!

Love,

Katya xx

***

"So how is it?" she asks, settling more comfortably on his raging erection. Straining length? Organ of pleasure? Shag rod?

She giggles at her own mental antics. This word game in her head isn't her - often unwanted - obligatory narration. It's her being giddily happy and having lashings of fun.

"How's fulfilling my long time sex fantasy, with a gorgeous woman sitting on my cock? Quite good, thank you very much."

He's grinning from ear to ear.

"Are you enjoying the design?" She points at the black fur on the handcuffs around his wrists. "I have light purple ones too, but thought you'd like to go for something more macho."

"I'm quite comfortable in my masculinity, thank you very much."

His rightful indignation is almost convincing, and then he snorts, ruining the illusion. She smiles so widely that her cheeks hurt. That was a cliché. Olivia's beaming? Her loving smile is radiant?

"Liv, are you writing in your head when I'm all spread to your consumption here?"

He makes big eyes in fake terror, and she laughs out loud.

"I can share the narration if you want. How's 'she could feel his member swell under her yearning centre?'"

He starts shaking with laughter.

"Liv, I'm in handcuffs, we are both almost naked. Shouldn't we be shagging, passionately, with all possible determination, maybe even with somber faces?"

"Why? We do that anyway. And right now it's somehow funny. Is it bad?" She has a moment of doubt, but his grin is indeed mischievous, sparks dancing in his glacial eyes.

"OK, tell me more." He probably wanted to wave his hand in an inviting gesture, but all he managed was to wiggle his fingers.

She places her hands on the insides of his wrists and rakes her nails gently along his forearms, onto his biceps, and then she presses her right palm into his pectoral muscle, supporting herself on a straight arm, while her other hand splays on his stomach.

She leans, and her eyes are right in front of his. She sincerely hopes they're burning with greedy lust.

"I can do whatever I want with you right now. Bring you to the brink of ecstasy and leave you craving completion. There are so many ways of doing it. It's called edging, or surfing, or peaking."

She's whispering, he's not smiling anymore. She doesn't know how about her eyes, but his are definitely burning.

"And when you finally reach the peak of pleasure, you might experience a pleasurable, almost euphoric state, and if I do it right, such a climax can create changes within an individual's perceived consciousness."

He gulps. Like a cartoon character. The way his throat moves makes her shift on his cock. Her knickers are wet, and she thinks his underwear underneath her probably is too. She considers taking off her soft Myla bralette. She might be feeling like a goddess of sex right now, and not a skinny ginger shy about her physique.