Amorous Goods: It Began with Bolt-Cutters

Prologue:

A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods.

 

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“HEY!” he yelled at the windows above, hoping someone could hear him. He couldn’t believe it. He was fucking trapped in some ancient skylight or chimney or something. It was dirty. And it didn’t smell great. It was too small for a prison cell. And his head fucking hurt.

A window was thrown open two stories up. Startled, a woman leaned out looking down at him.

“Help!” he called, waiving his hands, trapped in hand-cuffs above his head at her.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Please?” she called, ducking back into the building.

“Pretty please!” he called back, oddly comforted by the bemused lift to her lips and confidence she held in her bearing as she sized up the situation.

A bit of a breeze sucked her white curtains out into the bricked opening he was trapped in. A clean, woodsy, tantalizing scent tickled his nose on that breeze. When she returned, she fidgeted at the window frame, muttering to herself at a level that he couldn’t distinguish the words. The tone was business-like. Then she reappeared leaning out the window, holding a rolled up rope ladder. She frowned on the verge of dropping it, “Protect your head, okay!” Then she dropped it, letting it unroll as it fell.

It missed him, and the left over portion settled in the slushy ground. Grabbing the nearest rung, he realized there was a problem. “I can’t climb in these handcuffs,” he told her as she watched his struggle.

She groaned, and disappeared from the window again. Shortly she reemerged climbing out onto the ladder. Her cute derriere and legs wiggling out first. He inhaled in surprise. She was wearing green tights and a leotard. And a utility belt with bolt-cutters. He couldn’t help himself either, as she descended, he swallowed spying the contours of her labia. When she stopped descending, just out of reach he guiltily adjusted his gaze to her face.

“Nice bruise.” She pointed at her head in the area where his own throbbed painfully. “So what happened?”

He shifted his focus and was caught by her direct, twinkling gaze. “I, I lost a bet.”

“Go on,” she prompted, unhooking the bolt-cutters to twirl them like a baton.

He dropped his gaze to the slush that he had been laying in when he awoke which was drying on the left side of his body. “I was in this stupid store with a bunch of stupid crap, and my stupid friend..ex-friend..dared me to play some stupid card game. I lost. He knocked me out and left me here in this open air chimney or whatever it is.”

“It’s an air shaft.” Sighing, she finished climbing down, and he lifted his cuffs holding them out for her to cut. With a quick snap, the chain between the handcuffs broke, a bolt of heat stabbed into him, and his head jerked up. Without looking directly, he found himself aware of her body, everything perfect. He licked his lips fighting himself from thinking about licking her nipples visible through her leotard’s material.

“You’re a mess.” Rolling her eyes she reascended the ladder, “Wait till I’m done then come up.”

Lustful hunger wracked him as his eyes tracked her labia all the way up the ladder. “What’s your name?” he asked as he climbed up after her.

“Bridget,” she told him when he reached the window. The window accessed her bedroom.

His shoes left muddy prints on the floor, where she had pulled back the carpet for easier cleaning. “I’m so sorry about messing up your space.” He was a stinky, walking mud monster in her pristine living space.

Shrugging, Bridget backed up. “Aside from ‘sucker’, what’s your other name?” she shook her head with that bemused smile firmly in place.

“Sean.”

“Well, Sean, there’s an emergency phone out front that you can use. Okay?”

He followed her towards the apartment’s open door nodding and paused after walking through it. “I owe you Bridget.”

Shaking her head in disagreement, she shut the door in his face. He overheard, but was certain she didn’t mean for him to, “I expect I’ll end up collecting.” The tone was dark self-foreboding.

Fighting the headache, Sean made sure to memorize her apartment number and location.

 

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On getting home and cleaning up, Sean decided concussion-be-damned, he was going to pay a visit to his ex-friend’s condo…The fact that he couldn’t break the cuffs being the major factor in the decision. By the time he reached Gomer’s place, his fury had notched up to a crescendo. As soon as Gomer got to the door, Sean forced it open. Burning rage burst out. He first slammed the door into Gomer’s face, then grabbed him by the arm, and winched it into a position to force the shit face-first into the wall. Sean knew how to fight and was inherently strong from staying in shape. “You look surprised,” he growled.

“The curse was supposed to break,” Gomer gasped surprised.

And the asshole stank. Sean started tapping Gomer’s head against the wall, “How does it feel to be attacked by someone you thought was a friend?” Each dull hit just made the tearing heat in him burn higher.

“Fuck you! You won’t kill me either. I’m going to curse you for real now!”

Sean didn’t like losing his temper, and despite what Gomer thought, if Sean wasn’t careful, he was entirely capable of doing something he’d regret. A wash of freezing self-disgust filled him. Gomer was a piece of shit and wasn’t worth it. Sean gave up and threw Gomer to the ground. “If I see you, ever, we’re doing this again.” Then he kicked him in the ass. Wet ass. Apparently the source of the smell.

Shutting the door, still fuming as well as ashamed, he decided it was time to head to the clinic, get his head checked out, and see if they had something to cut the damn cuffs off.

 

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About a week later, Sean’s head was on the mend, but he was no closer to getting the remains of the cuffs removed. The doc said he’d have to break his hand to get them off after a few attempts failed. The machinists that he’d visited said that their equipment would probably be successful at taking his hand off first.

The constant presence of the cuffs initially bothered the shit out of him. Once he associated them with meeting Bridget though, he found he didn’t mind and stopped tugging on them. Both the doc and one of the machinists commented on their unusual design in the metal, some kind of knot. As soon as the next weekend arrived, Sean returned to the stupid shop where they had been purchased, Amorous Goods.

Sean wrinkled his nose at the odd mixture of scents as he entered. Under the overwhelming spices and decay was something dark, and he didn’t like it. The shopkeep smiled broadly as he entered the store, “Welcome back, slave.”

“Sean.” He must have heard him wrong. Marching up to the counter, Sean showed the man his cuffs. “Why won’t these cut off?”

“It’s called a ‘Celtic Knot’, slave.” The elliptical answer pissed him off, and calling him a slave in public made him want to break something.

“Sean. Where’s the fucking key?”

Laughing at him, the shopkeep replied, “You must go get your mistress’ permission to unlock it.”

Bridget popped unbidden into his mind. Along with the urge to protect his savior. She shouldn’t get involved in this. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The shopkeep stopped laughing. Somehow that was a lot more menacing. “I physically can’t get the key unless your mistress comes in.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You belong to her now.”

“Get. The. Fucking. Key.” Sean snarled. He was not having this conversation.

“Go. Or else I’ll call the police. She’ll collect you when she’s ready.”

The last person he wanted to see Bridget in the vicinity of was this creepy asshole. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The shopkeep picked up the phone raising his eyebrows and pointed at the exit.

Raising his hands in surrender, Sean walked out. It was an excuse to see Bridget again at least. A lousy one.

 

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Bridget was tapping at her astronomy book annoyed when the outer door buzzer blared. Getting up and gazing at the outside video, she wasn’t too surprised to recognize Sean. He was cleaned up, still vibing a strong surliness, “What do you want?”

“To thank you.” His head swiveled around, spotted the camera, then gazed at it earnestly.

“What?” Somehow he was a natural at derailing her thoughts.

“Come on down, I’ll take you out.”

Well…she was curious. “Do I get to hear more of your story?”

“Guaranteed,” his eyes sparked, and his brows resumed their initial surly expression.

Whether surly or focusing on her, he was kind of cute. “I could use a coffee.”

“You got it.” His face cleared, and a flash of some emotion quickly suppressed passed. Her heart beat a little quicker as she shut down the connection and headed out. He wanted her for something…which could be something good…or could be something bad.

As soon as she emerged, Sean, who had moved away from the door, marched up to her holding his hand out in greeting. She glanced at it nervously, but sighing inwardly, she grasped it. A tingle of awareness ran through her with the connection, and her gaze was yanked down to their mated palms. Unsettled, she held on to his hand when Sean released his fingers to let go. “What’s with the bracelets?” Then she turned his hand over, recognition dawning. “These were the handcuffs weren’t they?”

Sean held still as she inspected them. Her fingers touching him tingled.

For whatever reason, Bridget realized he couldn’t take them off. Then she spotted the Celtic Knot in their surface. “I don’t believe it.” she muttered, releasing his hand with a consoling pat. Uneasiness settled into her stomach.

Sean’s voice was soft, “What?”

“Where did you get those handcuffs?” Bridget looked off towards some of the nearby buildings thoughtfully.

Sean held out his hand. He wanted to feel her touch again. “I’ll show you.” When she didn’t take it, he converted it to a gesture towards his car in the parking lot. A couple of steps later, he stopped. She wasn’t following. He took a deep breath.

Bridget was shaking her head. “No way. I am not getting into a car with a stranger who’s obviously got problems.”

Sean returned to her, “I’m sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” He needed to follow her lead.

Bridget waved it away and pointed at the block of nearby buildings, “There’s a coffee shop right over there.”

Sean followed her as she led the way. When they entered, Bridget received warm greetings from the staff. And Sean received a silent lookover, particularly from another patron. Gazing at them both with a frown, the man approached.

“Who’s the surly bear, Bridget?” he asked. His tone was both humored and hostile.

She shrugged placing her order on the screen in the table as she started to sit. Sean moved rapidly to manage her chair. “We’re acquaintances, Bard. Thank you, Sean. Sean, Bard. Bard, Sean.” She didn’t bother looking up, and missed Bard’s look of disquiet flash across his face.

Sean moved into Bard’s personal space and settled himself at the table to her left. Narrowing his eyes, Bard moved to approach Bridget’s right side when she stopped him, “I’m very sorry, Bard, but this is a confidential conversation. May we have some privacy?”

“Fine. I’ll find out later.” he answered with a soft smile. Squeezing her shoulder companionably, he left.

Sean stifled a growl that wanted to break free. His rescuer was better than anything the smarmy shit offered.

“So, my surly bear, start at the beginning,” she ordered with a smile as soon as Bard walked away.

Sean enjoyed the possessive pronoun he’d just gotten and relaxed his hackles with Bard’s departure. He told her about the store he and Gomer discovered, the sign that for a fixed price they could play the cards and the winner would get an object. “Ah, the handcuffs” she broke in, looking off in Bard’s direction with a frown.

Sean’s surly look returned, “And a curse.”

“Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff.” she leaned back away from her initially intent pose.

“I didn’t.” Then he told her about the power outage damaging his equipment, the food poisoning incident, the mistaken identity incident with tube security that included a lashing, and how he finally called his friend when a screw driver fell out of the sky and embedded in the ground right where he was about to step but stopped when he saw a lovely pink flower.

Bridget’s eyebrows increasingly raised throughout this account, and her glances at his cuffs strayed longer and longer.

He told her about how Gomer got him in the car, took off before he’d gotten his seatbelt on, then braked suddenly making him hit his head on the dashboard. While he was clouded, Gomer commented on being cursed, and that he had to put the handcuffs on him to break it and Sean was on his own from now on. He came to consciousness in the air shaft where she found him.

She shook her head in disbelief. “What a mess. Why there of all places?”

He shrugged helplessly, “He didn’t say when I stopped by after you rescued my sorry ass.”

She paused a full 10 seconds and took in his hostile pretend-passivity, “Let’s skip that part. Do you know how he got you down there? It’s not meant for people.”

“Through one of the bottom windows I guess,” he answered slowly, puzzled.

She patted his hand, “Think about that for a minute.”

Happy endorphins sparkled around his body from her touch. At the same time he realized that there weren’t any lower windows than hers. “Oh, I have no idea then.”

Her coffee arrived. “You’re not getting anything, Sean?”

He glanced at her thinking, ‘What I want here isn’t on the menu.’ “I’m not familiar with the menu here.”

She saw the glance but still was unsure of its source. “My surly bear should have some tea.” She tapped the screen again.

“Anything you say,” popped out of his mouth. And he realized he meant it.

Her cheeks briefly blushed. Sipping her coffee, she gestured for him to go on. Tugging one of his hands closer, she rotated the cuff to get a good look at it.

Sean rotated his palm upward both in supplication and for the opportunity to idly grasp her arm. “I can’t cut them off. Went to the doctor’s, went to the machinist’s, nothing works without breaking bones. I have to use both hands for my job.”

Bridget lowered her eyebrows, “What about the shop? Do they have a key?”

Sean shifted uncomfortably. ‘Slave,’ the shopkeep kept calling him. Dropping his eyes and his voice, he murmured, “The shopkeep said I couldn’t have it and threatened to call the police if I remained.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve got the police case here,” she muttered.

He raised his eyes, “Can I depend on you for witness testimony?” His tea arrived, and its fruity essence made his mouth water in anticipation. He sipped at it. Licked his lips. It tasted as good as it smelled, clean, rich, tantalizing. “Nice choice; what is it?”

Bridget frowned. “As far as the police and myself are concerned, that whole cursing thing is certifiable. I’ll drive to the shop and talk to the shopkeeper first. At least there is a key, and he’s got it.” She petted his hand. “It’s Llewelyn berry.” Her family’s symbolic fruit.

Between the tea, her petting, and her help, he relaxed to a level he’d never experienced before. His entire being just wanted to get closer. “I should go with you.” He didn’t want her approaching the shopkeep at all, especially not alone. Through a tight jaw he added, “Or take that guy that was just in here with you.”

Bridget looked around, surprised. Sean was mollified that she’d not noticed Bard leave.

“Trust me,” she smiled confidently.

He reluctantly agreed acknowledging that women had the advantage of getting more leeway in situations like this. When they parted, his giving her the address of the shop, he took an extra drive around the neighborhood taking note of signs of vacancies. Their separation was like getting his hair petted backwards.

Bard called as soon as she climbed into her car. “Bridget, the guy’s a loon, and he’s fixated on you.”

“I’ve just got to get this key and then he’ll be gone,” she answered turning on the safety system.

“What kind of Knot Label did you find in the surface print?”

The banned Slave Knot. “I didn’t see.”

“Liar. You were staring at it.”

“I meant, I didn’t recognize it.”

“Describe it to me.”

“I’m driving.”

“Fine. Catch you later, then.”

“Yep.” She reflected that Sean urged her to be careful while Bard was relatively unconcerned.

 

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Storming into the shop, Bridget found the woman behind the desk and growled at her, “What are you doing peddling dangerous Celtic technology?” Then screwed up her face after taking a breath. Under the usual smell of such a shop was the unmistakable stench from banned technology of the extra-terrestrial sex trade.

The woman, her name tag read ‘Vikki’, was about to answer when a man came from the back storage area holding up a key between his fingers. His grin made Bridget’s teeth grind. “Here’s the item you’re looking for I believe.”

As she reached for it, she glanced up into his eyes; the contacts couldn’t hide the golden flash from her UV sensitive gaze. He was a pan-dimensional gargoyle. She gasped. Glancing at Vikki again, definitely completely human, Bridget glanced down at her swelling pregnancy. At the last fraction of a second, she hesitated. “Just put it down on the counter, thanks.”

Laughing, the gargoyle complied, turned around, then left calling over his shoulder, “Your slave has permission to enter this shop again.” His guffaws echoed darkly in her ears.

“Feel free to look around,” Vikki added as Bridget slowly backed away.

Everywhere she looked was filled with sensual traps for the naive. She pulled open the door, “Right.” And left.

 

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When she got back to her apartment, Bridget took out the family book on their ancient Celtic world from which they’d immigrated. She quickly found the Slave Knot in the pictures of their world’s shameful history. But Sean’s was subtly different. The ends of the Knot he had included smaller Knots in the individual threads. Flipping rapidly through the text, she found the purpose.

Holding up the key to Sean’s cuffs, she studied it, the sinister Teeter-Totter Trap. “Sorry, Sean.” she muttered.

 

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Sean paused a moment to run his hands through his hair and make sure he was presentable. Then he knocked on Bridget’s door.

Pulling it open, she jerked in surprise, “You. How did you…”

He smiled, contented with looking at her again. “I’m your new downstairs neighbor.” The internal apartment, without any outside windows, was perennially empty. So, Sean acquired it with no difficulty.

She stammered, “…I was going to call you tomorrow. Wait. What?” She nervously glanced at his cuffs.

She had just arrived home. He could hear it clearly through his ceiling. His happiness became a soft emotional buzz filling his head. “Can I come in?”

Like a strict teacher, she replied, “Um..yes, you MAY.” She knew without a doubt that he couldn’t harm her.

Some happiness slipped into his practiced smile, hopefully making it more suave than goofy.

She frowned. “Please have a seat.” She pointed at a chair at the small kitchen table.

Sean paused settling to see whether he could help seat her again. “How are you doing?”

She shrugged and headed to the kitchen, “I’m just studying up on a problem, trying to see if there’s an elegant solution or one you have to just suffer through.”

“I never asked what you do…” He gazed around. She had at least one bookshelf on each wall, and there was no clear organization to the topics.

She put some iced tea down on the table and a few snacks. “I’m a specialized programmer.”

Watching her closely as she settled, he commented, “So your neighborhood has a more community, more intimate feel to it…”

Bridget coughed softly.

“…and I decided that while I look around to secure something permanent…”

Her heart rate thudded.

“…being closer to my rescuer…”

She looked at his hands; one was wrapped around her mug while the other gestured his meaning with body language. The meaning of which was that the alternative interpretation of his speech was valid.

“..seemed like a good plan.”

Her eyes snapped back up to his as heat swooshed through her. Her lips tingled. She put her fingers on them as if that would push away the sensation of wanting to kiss him.

“You seem nervous, everything okay?”

Aside from realizing that Sean was a very dangerous man and that his being focused unnaturally on her was unnerving, “I’m fine. So you look like you’re planning to head out this evening?” She actually couldn’t tell if he was or wasn’t, but it seemed like a way to get her some space to deal with the attraction he was fueling.

He looked idly around her living space, “Tonight is a maker space workshop.” Pointing at her small telescope next to the coffee table, added, “I could produce a better mirror than the one in that for you with the gear there. Want to come?”

Shaking her head and smiling, Bridget agreed, “Yeah, okay, but I drive.”

Sean went from hiding his disappointment based on the head shake to straightening his back. “Great!” Then he went to the coffee table and settled next to the telescope. “Where are your tools?” He asked over his shoulder.

He caught her eyes as she looked away and busied herself. She was studying him with interest. He inhaled deeply and blinked, enjoying being exactly where he was. When she put the small toolkit down next to him, he realized that it was specific for the telescope. Gesturing at the open astronomy book nearby, he asked, “What are working on?”

Standing next to him, watching his hands deftly move at breaking down the telescope to get at the mirror. She answered, “I’m looking for something in the formation of the universe. The stars out there are only part of the story; I like to use the telescope to observe Methuselah mostly.”

“Methuselah?” he asked, carefully sliding the mirror out.

“It’s older than the universe.”

Startled, Sean reached out and grasped the calf on her leg, “What?”

She nodded, “And there are other dimensions, definitely, but when did THOSE form?”

Reluctantly letting go of her leg, Sean stood, carefully gathering up the mirror. She was comfortably standing close to him, and he paused looking into her face. Her mouth opened.

“See you in 10 minutes?” her kissable lips murmured. As he nodded, she moved away, and he exhaled relaxing the tension. As he opened the door, she reluctantly told him, “You’re allowed back in the shop.”

She then waited for him to ask about the key. “Alright, thank you,” he replied. That look flashed across his face again, then he left.

Blowing out the breath she held…he definitely wanted her for some reason…she tapped the hidden pocket in her waistband for the presence of the metal object concealed there.

 

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He insisted on opening the door for her on reaching her car. “I just realized I never asked what you do?” she prompted, trying to adjust to his mannerisms. Bard’s warning that he was fixated on her didn’t seem to do the emotion justice.

Climbing in himself on the passenger side, he answered, “I’m an architect.”

“And you didn’t know what an air shaft was?” she blurted out surprised.

He snorted, “I was concussed, my fair Green Lady.”

Bridget blushed deeply at the reference to a deity. “Fair enough.”

“For a programmer, you seemed to handle the situation I was in a lot more like a first responder.” He watched her intently.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Didn’t always do programming.”

As he gave her directions, he told her about some of the interesting details about the buildings around them. ‘And that one over there was supposed to have more floors, but the firm miscalculated the weight.’ ‘How do you know that?’ ‘I got hired to fix it.’ ‘That one had a toxic chemical spill from the tank next to the property line.’ Bridget marveled at how different the town appeared through his eyes.

Then they arrived. The parking lot was full, but Sean wasn’t worried, “I made sure to reserve the synthetic printer as soon as you said ok; don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Bridget flushed again in response. Sean smiled, noticing, and directing her to the overflow parking lot. “Stay put,” he ordered, getting out as soon as they arrived. Confused, she did, then blushed again when he opened the door for her. She accepted his hand as he offered to support her out of the car. When she did, he didn’t immediately release her hand, kissing the back of it first.

The heat washing through her from his touch hadn’t had time to dissipate before his lips, and firm display of where his thoughts were behind those suppressed facial expressions, brought her whole body to attention. She couldn’t suppress the slight increase in heart rate and breathing that he triggered. And, she admitted to herself, she didn’t want to. Letting Sean see how he affected her would hopefully encourage him to keep doing it.

Smiling, pleased with the effect he was having on her, Sean offered his elbow. Her touch accepting him, especially after he demonstrated that he wanted her, triggered the first of many physically uncomfortable yet emotionally perfect moments.

At the maker space, as the new mirror was built, Sean showed Bridget around. This included introducing her to a lot of people, most of whom were curious about her. As she talked to a woman operating the wire-cutter, one of his closer friends murmured to him, “So, you done pretending dating is something other people do?” Sean nodded in response watching Bridget as she smiled at him again, noticing his attention.

Bridget grabbed Sean’s hand as he approached, “Trudy, tell him about the part’s purpose, too!” When she released his hand, he didn’t let go, and after a beat in which his heart thudded loudly in his ears, she resumed grasping his hand. As Trudy told an entertaining tale of the ghost water leak, Sean’s happiness kept bouncing around his body hyperactively.

By the end of the evening, as he reset the synthetic printer for the next user, Sean kept staring at Bridget’s lips. He’d never seen anyone he wanted to kiss more.

When they walked back to the car, he again followed her to open her door but instead of grasping the handle, he caged her against the car in his arms. “Bridget, may I kiss you?” he rumbled like a hungry bear.

Her eyes troubled him as they clouded from their initial happy glints, but her desire was also visible. She idly played with his irremovable cuffs as she hesitated answering. For Sean, the waiting was on the verge of painful. Then she lifted her chin, ordered him to “Keep your arms in place,” raised her face to him, and kissed him.

Heat surged through him, and he locked his arms in place on the car. At least being unable to seize her into his grasp kept her penned. When her mouth opened, he pressed his tongue inside, just the tip, to lick her lips. She deepened the caress, and he became briefly insensible to anything but her mouth and his hardening interest. ‘Mine,’ rang through his head and his heart.

When Bridget pulled back, with a smile, she murmured, “No more for tonight, Sean. It’s time to go.”

He let go and opened the door for her. As she drove them back, he could smell her arousal, making him drool slightly. Following her lead, he kept the conversation neutral and let her part from him at the elevator in their building with a simple farewell.

 

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Returning from work the next day, Sean waited until he could hear Bridget’s footsteps above. When he heard footsteps in the kitchen area settle on the couch, he pictured her eating dinner. Without him.

Waiting half an hour, he pulled out a cup of ice cream from his freezer and headed up to his mistress’. Bridget was unsurprised hearing the knock when she put the dinner plate in her sink. She blinked and raised an eyebrow quizzically to see the dessert in Sean’s hands when she opened the door.

“Hungry for something sweet?” he rumbled, sexual undertones to his timbre unmistakable.

Smiling and blushing as a wash of heat hit her, Bridget pulled the unused chair away from the table, set it askew and ordered, “Sit in this chair and hang on a minute.”

Happily sitting, Sean watched her set the ice cream on the table, and could hear the clink of silverware. When she returned with only a single spoon and no bowls, he pursed his lips in confusion.

Opening up the ice cream packaging, she scooped the spoon in it, and then opened her mouth. Twitching, he was uncertain what she was about to do when she said with her tantalizing lips dancing in their motion of talking to him, “Put this in your mouth, but you’re not allowed to swallow, my hungry bear.”

His erection which had been softly aroused as soon as he opened his freezer, stood at attention. He was HER bear. He hummed happily as the cold melted against his tongue. Then her face was approaching his. Her lips were pressing against his, and he moaned as her tongue slipped inside and she claimed the melting cream from his mouth.

“This one you may swallow.” Taking another spoonful, she placed it in his mouth. He wanted to swallow her. More.

Then she settled, straddling his lap. He belatedly opened his mouth to accept the next spoonful as she pressed her vulva against him. Her eyes were twinkling with arousal and mischief, like the stars through her telescope, as she leaned in for another kiss. Taking that as his cue, he released the sides of the chair to grasp her in his arms. But was caught up short. “No, Sean. Hands on the chair,” she commanded parting from the kiss.

He didn’t like her using his name. He dropped his hands asserting, “I’m your bear.” Emphasis on ‘your’.

Bridget never could resist playing with fire. Telling him to swallow the next spoonful of ice cream, she shifted against him moving her hips sensually.

Over the next several spoonfuls, she alternated between kissing him to claim her nibbles and twerking against him as he swallowed his, leaving him hungry without being satiated.

Rendered gentlemanly-powerless, he was thoroughly aroused, concerned with nothing else except following her lead. No woman had ever made him feel this pleasurably uncomfortable. He reached his limit when the last of the ice cream was gone. He was going to lose it in his pants, when she stopped and climbed off his lap, panting softly.

“Thank you for dessert, my bear,” she murmured sensually.

He tensed as she distanced herself from him, “That makes you my mistress, I believe.” His mix of meanings in using the word ‘mistress’ filled her with nervous energy.

She knew what he needed, but it was going to cost her. The teeter-totter trap kept shifting the flow of power between them. She tilted her head accepting his claim. His face relaxed. “It’s time for you to go home though, I need to get ready for tomorrow.”

He narrowed his eyes. She spun to take the spoon and empty ice cream container to the kitchen. “We’ll have dinner tomorrow,” he suggested with finality in his tone. Not so much a suggestion, actually. “It’ll be more filling than just dessert.”

Getting the raw desire he inspired under control, she couldn’t help the swelling in her lips, nipples, and labia, but for the rest of her body language she was able to look at him appraisingly, while saying, “1830 sharp.”

“Can’t wait to come, my mistress,” he was going cover her with his claim soon.

She smiled sharply at him, amused by the double entendre, “You’re a good man, my bear.”

His heart cheered.

 

---

 

As the water from Bridget’s shower cascaded to the floor above his head, Sean grasped his erection which hadn’t calmed in the intervening time. He imagined her touching him, stroking him as he was moving his own hand. Then remembering her labia as he saw them in her leotard, he erupted.

A short while later as he dozed off, he vaguely remembered that he felt something hard in her waistband, and whenever he felt it, the power he knew she had over him would shift. The thought quickly drifted into the background as the general irrational emotions of dreams enveloped him.

 

---

 

The next evening, he realized he recognized her car door shutting. Leaning out into the hallway, the end of which had a window which looked out onto the parking lot, he smiled seeing her type into her comm as she hesitated entering the building. Then he frowned. She approached another vehicle that was pulling up next to the front door. He recognized its driver and growled. Bard was interested in HIS mistress. The man held something out for her; she looked it over briefly shaking her head. They conferred as she held her hands up in exasperation. Then another car pulled up. She stepped back and waved him on. He drove away, and she entered the building. There was enough familiarity with the interaction that Sean decided he needed to make a rule.

 

---

 

At 1830, Sean knocked. “Come in,” Bridget called. She fanned herself, the heat in the kitchen suddenly intensifying. Sean, the man himself, was addictive; she could feel the difference between him and the dark energy of his damnable cuffs. But there lay a major problem. As he shut the door, she intercepted him. “Sean. I’ve a mind for a different form of art. Please place your clothes on those hooks.” she gestured at the wall near the door. “All of your clothes,” she added returning to the kitchen.

Sean shivered in the anticipation of her touch that infused his mind. “Mistress.” Contentment involuntarily enveloped his mind as accepting her control felt so comfortable.

After some shuffling, Sean, naked and erect, entered her kitchen. Smiling, looking him over from head to toe, she paused to gaze at his erection. Licking her lips, she pointed at a chair against the wall with her spatula. “Sit there.” Then she circled the spatula, “And attach yourself to the locks. You can’t miss them.”

Sean hesitated, and she frowned. “Bridget, I want your promise first.”

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.” she burst out, worried.

He smiled, “I know that. I just want you to promise: I’m the only man you will touch and kiss.”

She lowered the spatula in surprise. He was the only person that fit that description in her life. ‘What?’ crossed her mind. “Of course.” she conceded.

“Good.” his erection twitched.

As she put the food on a plate, she watched him secure his ankles to the legs of the chair, then hook his cuffs on the latches in the wall to his sides holding his arms open wide, yet comfortably…for a time.

Approaching she smiled at the picture he presented. Setting up a side table next to him, she set the plate down and murmured, “It’s dinner time. Are you hungry, my bear?”

Sean grinned, “Famished, my mistress.”

She smiled. Gesturing to a small bowl on the plate, she commented, “This is vegetable oil.” Dipping her fingers in it, she reached towards his neck and rubbed in small, teasing circles. Sean closed his eyes enjoying the sensation. Looking down, she could see he was leaking pre-cum. Her plan to send him home again unsatisfied was going to be a challenge. Then his stomach growled.

Taking up a spoonful of meatcake, she held it to his mouth to take a bite. “Kiss first,” he growled.

“Oh, who’s an uppity bottom,” she joked.

He chuckled. When she kissed him, his tongue immediately delved into her mouth and claimed his right to be there. As she heard him tug on his arms, she knew restraining him was the right thing to do. They kissed until she grew uncomfortable from the position. Then she re-offered the meatcake, and he took a bite. She didn’t kiss him again, but in between his bites, she rubbed the oil in slow circles down his neck. “Where are you most sensitive, my bear?” she asked.

“Nipples,” he mumbled watching her with predatory intent, “Back of my neck…And anywhere you touch on my cock and balls.” He inhaled deeply as she dipped her fingers and began rubbing his chest, slowly moving closer to his nipples. Periodically pausing in her massage, she would feed him more meatcake. He chewed hungrily, but this time, his dissatisfaction was becoming more of an anticipatory contentment as his discomfort subsumed to existing in the moment.

“I have a request,” he began as she finally started teasing his nipples. It tickled while stimulating him.

She prompted, “Hmmmm?”

“If you touch my cock, I get to cum in or on you.” He saw her perfectly understand his meaning in her body’s reaction. He was going to make her smell like him…belong to him in a very primal sense…sooner or later. He pulled on his cuffs as indecision flickered across her features. If he could only get his hands on her, he knew he could persuade her to decide on having him.

Bridget dropped her gaze to his erection as she dipped her fingers in the oil. Pre-cum slipped from him in a slow flow. Resuming her massage a little lower, on his abdomen, carefully avoiding his erection, she licked her lips. Then she answered, “You’re my responsibility. It’s too soon for that, but yes, I agree.”

He inhaled deeply, seeing if he could get her to inadvertently touch his throbbing cock. When she managed to escape, he asked directly, “When can I make love to you?” and pulled on the restraints again. If only she would let him get his hands on her. He was getting better at reading her body language, and all she needed was to relax with some gentle petting.

She didn’t have an answer, so she didn’t. He didn’t know what it would do to him. And her negative would lead him to ask. Instead, she had a plan. Focusing on his safe erogenous sensitive spots, she teased them until he hummed with pleasure.

Without touching his penis, she finally stopped with a series of soft pets up and down his chest and arms. “Well, I think that was a delightful dinner,” she sighed happily. Studying his face cautiously, she unlatched his arms, massaging them as he was released. Then she released his ankles and backed up. “Time to get dressed, my bear. You’re welcome to hang out with me for a bit.”

Respecting her hesitancy at the start of their physical relationship, Sean didn’t push her. He didn’t know her full story, and life had taught him that waiting for her would be worth it. Sean glanced at her flushed features, and then at her bedroom just within sight. It was that very window through which she’d pulled him in. “What the plan is for tomorrow?” For there would be a plan for tomorrow.

She shook her head, “I’ve got a meeting to attend.”

She gave him some privacy as he got dressed. When he was done, he joined her at the table. She showed him the astronomy book open to Methuselah. He asked, “What are you looking for exactly?”

“Did you know that there are multiple dimensions?” she commented, looking at him with hesitant worry.

He hurried to assure her that he didn’t think that was crazy, misunderstanding her concern, “I never thought about it, but it seems reasonable.”

Nodding, she glanced at his cuffs and then explained that she was looking for something that would be left over when separate dimensions formed.

“Why?” he wondered. It was a tough question for most people, explaining to him why he should care. He had no doubt that Bridget was formidable enough to deal with answering him.

She glanced sharply at another book on the coffee table drawing his eye to it as she murmured, “I don’t believe in magic. You…I mean people in general will come across phenomena that they don’t understand…” She trailed off.

Sean’s gaze remained on the other book; it looked very old.

“Go ahead and look at it, Sean,” she softly commented. She moved towards her entertainment system as he sat next to it and carefully opened it.

“What is the writing?” he’d seen it before somewhere.

“Celtic,” she replied without looking.

As he flipped through the pages, he jerked recognizing the knot style on his cuffs in a drawing. The subservient status of those wearing them was undeniable. Glancing at Bridget, who was clicking through the display screen looking for some music to play, he smiled. Belonging to his mistress wasn’t bad. Wasn’t bad at all. As he stared at the pictures, he realized that none of the people shown had the exact design he wore. He couldn’t find the exact style.

“The cuffs you are wearing should be banned,” Bridget softly commented joining him.

He couldn’t keep the hopeful tone out of his voice, asking, “You can’t get them off?”

“Not without causing a lot of other problems,” she haltingly replied, rubbing her neck.

He spent the rest of the evening flipping through the book, sipping some more of her wonderful tea, chatting with her about astronomy, and glancing at her lips.

When it was time to go he said, “Give me a hug,” adding, “And when can I see you again?”

As she hugged him, he pulled her tight letting her feel his still stiff hard-on. Again he felt the hard small object tucked in her waistband somewhere. Sensing it shifted the power between them, pulling her under his control. He could feel it.

“Give me the weekend, okay?” she haltingly replied.

When he released her, her fingers covered her lips as if she said something she didn’t mean to. “Just dream of me and remember you promised,” he rumbled.

Nervously, she smiled.

 

---

 

As she showered, he rubbed himself. He shuddered simply touching himself, releasing a pressurized jet, but as her shower continued, lasting longer, he felt a larger orgasm loom. For a moment, when her feet paused and all he could hear was water, he erupted a second time. He had no idea what she had planned for the weekend, but he was looking forward to it.

 

---

 

The next evening Sean listened to her come home. When she shortly left again, he went to the hallway window to watch her as she walked out of their building. With surprise, he saw her simply walk towards the coffee shop instead of her car. Wherever she was going was local. Back inside his apartment listening for her return, he grew more disturbed as the evening slowly set in. Finally, he left to follow her steps in the reddish light.

Frowning, he stopped at the building next to the coffee shop recognizing Bard’s car. Worried, he walked around the building in the twilight. Several voices could be heard on one side of the building. He couldn’t understand their words, but he distinguished his mistress’ tones among them.

“Ei losgi i lawr,” [1] a male voice urged.

“…pan-dimensional Gargoyles, ffŵl,” [2] replied his Bridget.

“Ddal…” [3] began Bard.

Sean stepped away and scanned the building again. One set of doors was more frequently used than another, so he moved to sit in a hedge nearby to wait for Bridget’s emergence. She was the last to leave. And it was because Bard was holding her back.

Once alone as far as they knew, Bard pausing talking and moved to kiss Bridget. Sean furiously watched the attempt, but didn’t want them to know he’d found their secret meeting location.

She blocked Bard with a hand across his mouth, saying “No.” Then in their language, “Mae gan fy anifail anwes a fi gytundeb.” [4]

“Mae’n gymaint o anifail anwes ag arth, Bridget,” [5] Bard snapped back.

“I don’t want a boyfriend,” she said.

“You don’t want me.” he swore and stormed off. At the last moment he yelled, “A all eich anifail anwes fod yn berchen arnoch!” [6]

Bridget shuddered as a burst of air fluttered her hair blowing Sean’s direction, bringing her scent to him. Which triggered an instant orgasm.

Sean waited until she had left and then returned home reflecting that he really, really needed to fuck her. No, it was more than that. He wasn’t comfortable until he paused on entering his apartment and could hear her move above. Then he quickly showered and listened as she moved. He was furious that Bard had tried to take her from him. She hadn’t told him everything. She’d obviously gone to the stupid shop and gotten the stupid key, but she hadn’t offered to free him and he hadn’t asked liking her having that power over him a little too much. She said it would cause more problems. She didn’t want a boyfriend. So she wasn’t thinking of him long term. That really irked and wasn’t going to stand. With two days before his weekend with her, he decided to go revisit the stupid shop.

 

---

 

Sean walked into Amorous Goods scowling. The shopkeep was gone but an attractive female was behind the counter instead. Shifting his expression to a more neutral look, he asked her, “Where’s the guy that works here?” Looking down, he spotted her pregnant bulge. Picturing his Bridget in the same state triggered an answering bulge in his pants. She would then be his. An idea formed for his plans.

“Damon?” she called.

The irritatingly smiling shopkeeper appeared. “Ah! Expected you back, slave. Interested in perusing our stock perhaps?” Divided between punching his face over the ‘slave’ comment or demanding an accounting, Sean was on the verge of saying ‘no’ when the jerk continued, “We have more Celtic artifacts that you might particularly enjoy.” His eyes were on his wife’s baby bump as he spoke the last part.

Time momentarily stopped for Sean, electrical anticipation drew up just out of reach. “Sure.” he replied. Chuckling, Damon opened a cabinet and lifted out a velvet shelf, setting it on the counter. A bracelet, female sized, caught Sean’s eye. When he reached out and touched it, the air around him shifted, and he could distinctly scent his mistress’ arousal. Snagging it, he held it reverently in his hand.

Damon laughed and rang up the charge. Passing the bracelet’s key to Vikki, he had her hand it to Sean inside an envelope. “The young man you were with before was not very smart,” she murmured to him. Sean paused, the question on his lips, but then decided that he really didn’t care. Bridget was his. That was all that mattered.

When he closed his mouth, Damon, smirking, observed, “Very wise of you, slave.”

Sean sneered at him briefly then headed out. When he was just short of the door, Damon called, “Your mistress is lovely. Melt the keys together if you want to keep her; impregnating her alone doesn’t do it.”

Sean paused. Then looked back at Damon. His arm was possessively around Vikki, who was waving at him.

On his way back home, Sean stopped at the maker space to check out a microfurnace. As he waited for the equipment to be packed up, he practiced locking the bracelet around Bridget-wrist-sized items one-handed.

 

---

 

Sean arrived home to find a note on his door. ‘Come up when you return.’

Frowning, he put down his materials, palmed the bracelet, and then practiced one more time securing it one-handed around a nearby pole. Content that he could do it with ease now, he slipped it into his pocket, and then headed upstairs.

On knocking, he didn’t wait long for Bridget to appear and usher him in. Her facial expression shifted between a spectrum of emotions so fast, he could only tell that she was perturbed.

“I was thinking about this weekend,” she began, “How about if you just come by for a few hours on Saturday and a few hours on Sunday?”

Sean didn’t answer her until she lifted her eyes from his chest letting him read her. She was conflicted, nervous, strongly attracted to him, worried, a little scared, and uncertain. Sensing through their odd connection that the argument with Bard had deeply unsettled her, he asked, “When are you planning to let me go?”

Bridget inhaled sharply, and hesitated.

“Bridget,” he growled, letting her know he wasn’t going to stop neither the inquiry nor his pursuit.

She stumbled over her words, “Um..the, the woman possessing the key to your cuffs who, who, um..makes love to you..will, will own you.”

Sean’s eyes flashed, registering that no one else would own him…only HIS Bridget, “What is your role in all of this?” He slipped his hands in his pockets.

She sensed danger, but with his hands secured, she felt safe enough. “I’m trying to teach you, to um, distinguish what a woman possessing the key can do to you.”

“Are you giving me the key, when you tire of me?” His hand concealed in his pocket, he carressed the bracelet it held. Not yet.

Not answering immediately, realizing HOW she answered was critical, Bridget was starting to think that the weekend plan was not a good idea when Sean’s arms came out of his pockets and penned her against the nearby wall. “I can’t..I would have to give it to your, your chosen woman,” she blurted.

Sean narrowed his eyes as he slowly lowered his hands. He then grasped each of her hands in his own and rumbled, “What if my chosen woman is right here?”

Bridget’s heart was beating rapidly. Heat suffused her frame. She started to shake her head when Sean leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. As she kissed him back, he pressed into her, a sensation that never failed to weaken her. Secured against him with the wall against her back, he lifted her arms above her head. She didn’t resist, the power between them somehow reversing, but she was impressed by how much stronger he was than her. Slipping his tongue into her mouth, he claimed her, distracting her from the fact that her arms were now held up by one of his hands instead of both.

Sean broke the kiss when he pulled the key free from the lock to her bracelet. HIS bracelet was now locked around HER wrist. The sensation of his success sent him close to bursting, and he reveled as his woman shuddered with her own orgasm, the first of many he would give her, as he stared into her eyes.

Bridget inhaled sharply realizing she’d lost control. “Sean,” she couldn’t help the arousal coloring her tone, “Release me.” As he followed her request, she began, “I think maybe we should cancel…” Sean’s expression looked unaccountably pleased. Then she registered the change. Looking down, she spotted a bracelet around her own wrist. “What did you do?” Her orgasm…it had been triggered.

“I don’t know,” he rumbled slipping the key to her bracelet into his pocket. “I just know you’re mine.”

She stared at the bracelet he’d put on her. It was a marriage knot on a tree…children. Irked, she gazed back up at him narrowing her eyes. “Take a seat against the wall, my surly bear. It’s time I taught you a few things.” she ordered.

Sean’s eyes flashed. “I need to shower,” he argued.

She needed to martial her thoughts. “Hurry back then.”

Sean spun, leaving her apartment abruptly, ignoring her sharp intake of breath. Quickly showering, he rapidly returned…with his microfurnace in hand.

On his return, Bridget ignored the package he brought assuming it would be more food. Instead of offering to make another ‘meal’ of him, she ordered him to strip and sit in his chair. Hoping she didn’t recognize the furnace, he argued again, “We need to lock our keys in this safe first.” He pulled it free from its packaging.

With a shaking hand, she carefully withdrew the key to his cuffs from her waistband. “I need to put it in there, myself. You can’t touch it.”

Sean held out the furnace accepting the key. Then pulling out his key to her bracelet from his own pocket, he dropped it inside with hers, secured the top, then set the cycle to begin.

Sean happily stripped, handing his clothes to Bridget as he did so. Her eyes were wide watching him. Walking to the chair, he sat. “You secure me, my mistress.” He rumbled. Putting his clothes down on the couch, Bridget approached cautiously. Kneeling down, she gazed as his erection. Sean smiled as she secured his legs licking her lips unconsciously. Taking his arm and latching up the cuff, Bridget briefly brushed her lips against his. As she secured his other arm, she allowed her breast to hover in reach of his mouth. Sean took the opportunity, and latched his mouth on her breast tonguing through her clothing. Bridget pulled away and kissed him. Tingles surged through him as her mouth opened to him. “You need to get naked,” Sean suggested.

Pausing, Bridget murmured, “Your fixation was made when I cut the chain between your cuffs that day when we first met.”

Sean shook his head. “It was when you came down the ladder.”

Bridget looked at him surprised.

“Get naked, and you’ll hear more.”

“I need to shower,” she murmured.

“I can help with that,” Sean offered, tugging on his restraints.

Bridget shook her head. “I know where your head is, Sean. I’ll be quick.”

And she was. His erection throbbed watching her strip. Then watching her emerge in a towel, he growled, “Take it off, my mistress.”

Bridget’s eyebrows shot up. “You need to earn it, my bear.”

Sean growled and pulled on his restraints testing them.

Bridget humphed, and pulled down a scarf from one of the nearby hooks.

Sean relaxed, in a sense. As his mistress took control, he could sense it, everything right settling inside. Then he felt her lips on his neck. He inhaled deeply, smiling. Her lips brushed his own whispering, “If the fixation didn’t begin with my breaking the chain, then what was it you fixated on?”

Lips shifted to his nipple. He gasped. “I saw the outline of your vulva as you climbed down.” Her teeth pinched. “Was going to come back to you regardless.”

“Hmmm. Hold that thought.” Her touch disappeared for a bit. Steps. A clink. Some pouring. He sniffed. A faint scent of smoke drifted by. The non-metal coatings on the keys was carbonized.

Then she returned. Her soft fingers rubbed vegetable oil into his aroused nipple. “The nature of your cuffs is called a teeter-totter. If I have sex with you, then I will own you.” Her touch switched to his other nipple, “If I give you the key to unlock the cuffs, then you will own me.”

“Ah, ha.” He shifted uncomfortably when her fingers dropped to his inner thigh, just brushing his testicle so gently he thought he imagined it. Tugging on his arms, he checked to see if he could get free. Not that way. “Tell me about the store.” And touch me.

Her fingers shifted to caressing up and down his form, from his feet to his head and back down. “That store you degenerates found is…hmm…been taken over by pan-…”

“…dimensional gargoyles” he finished with her.

Her fingers stilled and she whispered, “Like this?” Then they swept up his erection. “Tell me how you knew.”

“Goddess, yes,” he answered as her fingers, touched his erection, “I followed you.” And she kept on touching. He twitched under her caress. “To your meeting.” Her finger swept into the pre-cum easing from the tip. “It was getting too late.”

“Ceiling of the apartment downstairs too quiet?” she surmised how he knew.

He nodded and shifted his hips. The teasing touch was making him crazy. He pulled on his restraints again, this time checking how they were installed. Load bearing. Nuts. “When that friend of yours tried to kiss you, I’d never been so mad in my life.”

Bridget’s fingers involuntarily grasped his girth. He thrust into her grip. This teasing, keeping him on edge, was making him crazy. He wanted his arms free. He wanted to thrust into her, erupt, and then do it again, and again and again. “That emotional buzzing in your head is the Celtic technology.”

The microfurnace announced its complete cycle. He rumbled, “My head’s buzzing, because I’m not letting you go.”

“That’s supposed to be my line.” Bridget was breathing harder and took some oil to massage his feet. The sensation only served to leave him on a plateau of anticipation.

He smiled, the victorious predator. “Our keys are in a melted pool of slag right now. I had us put them in a microfurnace and turned it on.” The squeak of surprise she made was priceless. “You might have me restrained this way, right now, but I’ve got you locked down in my own way.” The need to take her intensified. Somewhere in the back of his head he remembered there was something important about the latches she was using to secure his cuffs to the wall.

“I was joking about the uppity-bottom thing. Sean…” she sighed, “I want you to know that I will cherish and protect you.” Then the contoured texture of her tongue swept across his glans. A tiny orgasm bubbled coating the tip with sperm.

“And that’s my line,” he murmured.

With a slight amount of rustling, he sensed her touching his lips. Slipping his tongue against her finger, he discovered it wasn’t a finger. It was her nipple. Opening his mouth, he sucked the protruding flesh into his mouth and caressed it with his tongue.

His mistress’ voice from above his head infused with lust, “The bracelet you put on me is one for weddings. That damn gargoyle sealed your fate. And mine.” She panted.

With a soft pop, she pulled back. “Take me,” he pleaded. He needed to bind her more, she had resisted too much to keeping him. “No condom. Bare.” He was shaking with tiny orgasms. A tiny fountain of ejaculate was coming out of him.

“You’re so slick,” she commented descending. He didn’t correct her. Her labia touched the tip, and Sean gritted his teeth, grasping the edges of this state of arousal. “Tell me when you’re about to burst.”

Sean nodded breaching her core as she lowered, sweet, soul-snatching, pressure squeezed and surrounded him. Heat and joy suffused him. With his new, discovered, orgasmic state, he locked on to the sensation and maintained the regular release from his testicles into her. He tugged on his cuffs for leverage to thrust into her, for that extra sensation of all the wonderful flexing moving down his length.

“Mistress mine,” he declared as she moved on him. Slowly, the small fountain of ejaculate strengthened. When she bottomed out, he made sure to thrust slightly to kiss her cervix with the tip, fighting the urge to jet into her. After a small eternity, he sensed the fountain ease, yet he was still powerfully aroused. “Faster,” he moaned. She complied. Her fingers caressed his skin between them as she began to rub herself. A few minutes later he realized that he was ready to orgasm again. “I’m close again,” he murmured.

“That’s my line,” she panted. “Can you hold on a little longer?”

He chuckled, “I meant, I already came. But this time am ready to really burst.”

She stopped moving on him. Then after a bit of heavy breathing she started rubbing herself and swore, “You diabolical..now I don’t regret refusing to give you the key at all.”

Sean grunted, “Owned.” Whether he meant her or himself didn’t matter. As she approached the brink, her muscles squeezed him beautifully, her breathing shot through his body, then he was in mindless bliss. As she tightened on him, released, tightened, released, he melted into space and time and jetted as he pressed deeper into her as her muscles loosened. The last release let him lock into place against her cervix where he erupted in an orgasm that washed through him rendering him insensible of anything but the pleasure conquering his system.

His awareness returned with a burst of physical light entering his white-out space. He squinted his eyes to see his precious Bridget’s chagrin. “Apparently, I need to teach you more control, my pet.”

Sean smiled, he felt like a content, lumbering bear, desirous of nothing more than a back scratch, some food, and another session of mind-blowing sex. “I’ll consider cooperating, so long as you stay in my den.”