Curio Vignettes 03 Reversal Read Online Free PDF

tool set. But I will settle for being a master of the female body. No instrument feels so good in the hands or makes so fine a sound.
    But now my restless fingers have only leather and air to occupy them. I grasp the strap that links my wrists, rubbing its worn edge with my thumbs and letting the texture distract me.
    After a minute’s perusal, Caroly says, “Shut your eyes.”
    I hear and feel as things are set at the foot of the bed, near my elbow. I try to guess from the sounds what she has in store for me. Was that the clink of glass or metal? But the smoothness that touches me a moment later is merely her fingertips. Her weight joins the bed and she strokes my chest, throat, arms.
    “You can open your eyes.”
    I do. I swallow.
    The woman I love is above me, and not in any context I’ve ever experienced. Her face is half in shadow, curls lit by the flames behind her. The way she stares, she looks beautiful and dangerous, an angel gone rogue. An exciting stranger in familiar skin.
    Her fingers play along my side, drawing a line from my hip to my shoulder and back again. Her touch teases, but her gaze burns. Hot desire in those cool eyes, that huntress look she gives me so often, one that strokes my vanity and arousal equally. Finally the setting matches that stare. I’m no lesson tonight, no tour guide, not even a partner.
    I’m her plaything.
    “What will you do with me?” I ask.
    “Whatever I like.” She reclines again on her hip and elbow at my side. Her gaze and fingertips trail from my throat to my chest, my belly, down to my thigh and up again. And again. Just the lightest touch but fire rises in its wake. My cock envies the attention, stiffening, but she ignores it. It’s my mouth she wants next. She traces my lips with her thumb then slides it inside. I shut my eyes and close her in my heat, sucking. She draws her thumb away, replaces it with a finger, then two. I spoil them as if they were as sensitive as her clitoris, lavish them with my tongue, remind her what I can do.
    She takes her hand back and I open my eyes. Her hair brushes my cheek as she leans in, her warm breast settling against my chest. I’ve grown used to being the initiator of our kisses, and I have to ignore an urge to lead when her lips brush mine. She wastes no time in showing me she’s only too happy to steal the reins.
    Her kisses are exciting—deep and confident. How long has she known how to kiss this way? How long have I gone not realizing, always so busy dictating?
    The questions fade as her palm glides down my chest and belly to close over my cock, drawing a moan from my mouth into hers. She coaxes my thighs wider and I obey. Her touch roams, stroking, cupping, squeezing. My hips flex, wanting more. That firm hand pushes me flat to the mattress once more and I feel her smile through the kissing. A fond smile of amusement at my eagerness? Or the smirk of a woman keen to torture? Her hand closes around me and I lose the will to care.
    Her strokes are slow and decadent, long pulls from the root to just below the crown. I feel spoiled. And measured. Taunted. I feel hard and needy and helpless, powerless and virile at once. A predator, fettered and hungry. When my hips rise again she allows it. Faster, I tell her, thrusting into her fist, willing it to tighten. But she only indulges me for a dozen beats, then her hand is gone, my arousal left to throb in the cool air. I’m abandoned next by her mouth as she sits up. I watch her tongue trace her lower lip, imagining her servicing my cock. She kisses differently when she’s in charge. What other tricks might that mouth reveal, if allowed to keep surveying its territory?
    Alas, I’m not to find out. Not yet.
    “Turn over. On your hands and knees.”
    A shiver whisks through me. In part it’s the uncertainty, not knowing what she has planned. But more intimidating is that wide-open curtain, being made to look out across the rooftops and the glittering city.
    I do as I’m told,