Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

be rebelling in some form too. Though I didn't ask him more about his family, it distracted me. He seemed to understand, and didn't prod me to pick up the conversation until I chose to speak. His hands never stopped, however, moving over shoulders, back, and arms in hypnotic patterns. I almost didn't want the pain to stop because I didn't want him to stop either. I couldn't afford a rent boy, but if I could've I would've set up a reoccurring thing right then and there. I didn't even lie to myself and say it was strictly for the physical contact, though that was a huge perk to what started as an awful evening. Maybe I wouldn't kill Sam after all.
    I loved the way Wolfgang worked my muscles. His massage went deeper than the pain of sitting trussed up for almost two hours (I checked the clock on the bedside table) and hit some of the sore spots I'd created pounding weights over the weekend. I'd been cranky at the thunderstorms that kept me indoors, and in venting at Mom Nature, I'd pulled a muscle in my back. It was that knot currently refusing to buckle under Wolfgang's ministrations but he seemed determined.
    He leaned over me. I didn't move. Whatever he wanted, I'd comply. In my ear, he whispered, "I'm going to move your arms. If it hurts, say the word and I'll stop." I might have nodded. I thought about it, but floating on the cloud woven of relaxed muscles and a half-hard cock I couldn't be certain.
    His fingers brushed down my forearm before wrapping around my wrist just below the rope. He lifted one hand and with great care, swung it slowly out and up over my head. He lay my hand down on my pillow, brushing his fingers undermine as he did. Then took the tail of rope and wrapped it around a slat of the headboard.
    "Whoa," I said.
    "Yes?" He hadn't slowed at his task.
    "What are you doing?"
    "Would you rather not?" He still didn't stop. He tugged at the rope to test his knot. As he caressed his way down my other arm, I thought about his question. By the time he'd eased it over my head to rest on my pillow, I'd already decided the answer was no. Not that he waited for an answer. I briefly wondered what he'd do if I did say no, but I couldn't bring myself to test him.
    Once he tied the second knot, he returned to my back, attacking the knotted muscle that refused to be loosened with renewed dedication.
    "By the way, I won't call you Master either," I said. Now that the surprise was over, the titillation of being tied up and helpless to whatever pleasure Wolfgang had to offer surged through me. I started to hope he'd get bore with the massage and get back to teasing me with his body. I let my mind drift to him straddling my hips, my hands itching to touch him as he rolled against me. I wanted him—bad—and we hadn't even kissed yet. Would he let me kiss those full, sexy lips? I didn't even know, but I sure as hell would try if he gave me the chance.
    "What else won't you do?"
    "Huh?" I moaned into his touch. The knot I'd thought I'd have to baby for several more days faded back into normal muscle. No, check that, very happy, very relaxed muscle.
    "I get the impression Sam didn't explain much."
    "Try nothing at all."
    "He said you were reading some bondage books."
    " One bondage book. I was curious." I tugged at my restraints, suddenly feeling self-conscious tied to my own bed.
    Wolfgang had been kneeling over me, sitting on my thighs, but as I fidgeted he leaned over me. He trailed his hands lightly over my arms and down to my wrists. When he covered the ropes squeezing gently, I stilled my hands. His warm body seemed to cover all of me, and I surrendered.
    When his warmth disappeared, I jerked up. I had little room to move my hands, so I lifted my head, arching my back. "Where'd you go?"
    After several long seconds of silence, I called out again. He wouldn't leave, would he? "Wolfgang?"
    He appeared in the doorway with a glass of water in hand. "I love the way that sounds coming from you, Jase." He emphasized his nickname for me, but I found I didn't mind. I liked him calling me Jase. "Are you thirsty?" he asked.
    I shook my head. No, I watched his throat as he finished the glass and wished he had more. Damn, even drinking was sexy when Wolfgang did it. Maybe I'd fallen for that charm a professional could pull off, or maybe it was knowing we'd fuck, probably repeatedly before the night's end. Part of me wanted to believe neither, to believe that the music playing, horse riding side of Wolfgang was the real man. I