Don't forget to read my next collection, Eden's Garden, a collection of all four stories from the series. You'll get Addicted, Sharing Sabina, Scissors & Fruit, and Girl Talk (in and of itself a collection of four short stories!).

 

Here's an excerpt from the book, from the Scissors & Fruit story:

 

**********

 

So now here I am, laying on my back on his bed, still fully clothed, wrists and ankles tied to his four poster bed, leather blindfold on the nightstand, while he excuses himself from the room, telling me to relax, while I think to myself, 'I'm the psychiatrist, I'm the one who graduated top of her class from one of the best universities in the country. I'm the one who should be telling you to relax.'

 

That's how the fuck I got into this situation.

 

And then the doorbell rings. I strain against my restraints to lift myself from his bed, to see who's at the door, until the muscles burn in my abs, but I can't see a thing. There are voices, muffled, I think it's another man but I can't be sure. Then nothing, quiet, and I hear the door latch shut and the lights dim in the living room that we were in only a short while ago.

 

Mark comes back into the bedroom and again I lift, strain and feel my abs burn, trying and failing to sit upright. The bed posts are solid and do not creak at all.

 

"Who was that?"

 

"Sorry?" Mark gives me a quizzical look.

 

"Who was at the door?" Now I'm starting to get just a little pissed, not really at him, but at myself for letting me lose control of our situation. Mark stands over me, gazing at me as if I am a still life painting and not a living, breathing woman.

 

"Oh that! Nobody, just someone trying to find the neighbor. I told him where to go." He replies, almost absentmindedly.

 

I'm pretty sure he's lying to me. I can sense that there's somebody else in the living room, but I can't hear anything or see anything or smell anything, so maybe I'm wrong. After all, why would he lie to me? And what the fuck am I getting so nervous for, anyway?

 

That's when I notice a pair of scissors and a banana in his hand.

 

"What're those for?"

 

"They're for you. Why?"

 

"What're you going to do with them?" I ask, nervously, and there is the tiniest little quiver in my voice and I am angry that I am not in charge, and angrier still that the warmth in my groin is growing and moving downward to my sex, that he is managing to make me wet by intimidating me. I squirm on the bed, testing the rope that binds me and look at Mark, trying to appear defiant, to make him think that he is not in total control of me and my mind and my body. And my cunt.

 

He's not buying it. "You asked about the kinkiest thing that one of my people had done to earn her commission, didn't you? I'm going to show you." He kneels beside me on the bed, stroking the hair off of my forehead. "You're not nervous, are you Eden?"

 

"No," I say, lying through my teeth.

 

He smiles, watching the emotion in my eyes. "I didn't think so," he says and he knows for a fact that I am lying.

 

He unbuttons my silk blouse, opening it to expose my brassiere, red and damp against the paleness of my skin. He can't remove my blouse because of the ropes binding my wrists so he leaves it there, bundled at my sides. He moves his hand from my hair to caress my flat stomach and I can feel the light roughness on his palm. I remember Jake told me he's a tennis player. He is still watching my eyes as he works one finger under the waistband of my pencil skirt, then his entire hand is beneath my clothing, beneath my panties, exploring my groin, intentionally staying away from my sex that begs for his touch.

 

"Eden, I want you to lift your back just a little so that I can undo your skirt. Can you do that for me?"

 

I nod and arch my back, as much as the rope will allow, and just as if he's done this a million times before he unclasps me and unzips me, pulling my skirt down over my hips.

 

"Good girl. Now I'm going to untie this ankle and when I do I want you to lift your leg for me, out of your skirt."

 

I do as he tells me to do, and he slides my skirt down to the tie of my other ankle, leaving it there, bundled on top of the rope. He cradles the heel of my foot and, one by one, takes each of my toes into his mouth and sucks, working his tongue around each toe, always watching my eyes, then he kisses the sole of my foot, then the heel, before once again binding me fully.

 

"That's not too tight, is it?"

 

"No, it's fine," I reply automatically, without thinking, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Fine? Fine? What the fuck do I mean, 'It's fine'? I'm bound to his bed, he is slowly removing my clothes and I still don't know what the scissors and banana are for. That's when I realize I am going to find out.

 

Mark lifts the scissors from the night stand and I feel the coldness of the metal as he slides the bottom blade along my chest, pressing into my skin, then a snap as he cuts the front of my bra into two. Now the cool blade glides along the top of my right shoulder, then my left, cutting each small strap. Mark reaches under my back and removes the dismembered bra, placing it next to the blindfold on the nightstand.

 

"You are so fucking beautiful, Eden." He bends down to taste each of my breasts and the coarseness of his tongue as he circles my nipple sends a familiar chill down to my groin, and I fight to maintain control of myself. I do not want to cum for him like this, I tell myself. He rolls each of my nipples, moist from his sucking, between his fingers and despite myself I close my eyes and moan and I can feel him looking at me with the barest of smiles as if this is what he expected all along.

 

**********

 

Get your copy of the Eden's Garden Collection today!