FOUR
She stepped forward, straddling his knee, and ever so slowly drew the feather along his chest. His expression was glazed, tinged with a hint of trepidation. She knew he wondered if she'd begin tickling him and that was part of the point. That Jess should succumb to her whims and have no say in the matter was what made this scene what it was. Jess rarely did what just anyone thought he should. He was his own man, through and through, magnificently so. And while that nature of his often got him into trouble with the rules society imposed on him and amongst the people he surrounded himself with, Rory found that his courage of conviction, which occasionally came across as caustic, was actually one of his more alluring traits.
Rory thought, in fact, that she was one of the few people that Jess truly responded to, even when he wasn't tied up. She smirked at the thought.
But, of course, Rory wouldn't tickle him—unless she had to. That wasn't the playtime that she was after.
Standing over him, she angled the feather downward and drew it up, slowly, along the length of his arm. The semi solid fringe left a trail of raised goosebumps along his olive skin. Whether it was fear of tickling or simply arousal that prickled the tiny hairs upright didn't matter. The simple presence of those raised hairs—one of many visible hints to his level of excitement—was titillating to Rory and dear to her heart. Today Jess was hers for the taking. And she'd do with him what she will.