"Close your eyes," Crane says, his voice soft and full of decadent promise.
Abbie, hands tied to the headboard by a couple of silk scarves, closes her eyes. A moment later, she peeks.
"Keep them closed or I shall blindfold you, Miss Mills," he admonishes. He raises an eyebrow. "Can you be trusted to behave yourself?"
"I think you'd better blindfold me," she answers.
"Points for honesty," Crane nods. "Have you another scarf?"
"Yes, but there's a sleep mask in the nightstand drawer," she says, pointing her chin in that direction. She wants to ask him what he has planned, but knows he won't tell her until he is ready to divulge the information. So, she keeps silent and waits, knowing her patience will be rewarded.
"A what?" he asks, opening the drawer and withdrawing what, to him, looks like a mask one would wear to a masquerade ball, only soft, plain, and with no eye holes. "Ah, I see," he observes, testing the elastic band with his fingers. "And, you do not," he finishes, gently slipping the mask over Abbie's head.
She snorts a short laugh, lifting her head to assist.
"I trust the purpose of this item is to block light in order to encourage more restful slumber?" he asks.
Abbie sighs lightly. "You really want to talk about this right now, Baby?"
The mask obscures about half of her lovely, expressive face, but he knows exactly what look she's giving him from behind it. "Perhaps later, my heart," he says, leaning down and kissing her lips. "You cannot see?" he asks, moving away again.
"I cannot see," she confirms. "So?"
Her question catches him off guard and he pauses. "Miss Mills?" he asks, unsure about what she is asking.
"What are you planning in that giant, perverted brain of yours?"
He laughs. "We are going to play a game," he declares. He sounds farther away.
"Where are you going?"
"Won't be a moment. Do not run off now, my love," he says.
She sighs, refusing to acknowledge his joke. "You should have gathered your supplies beforehand," she calls. "You—" She stops, realizing Crane's intent. He's building anticipation, the jackass.
"If I had done that, you might have seen something," he calmly answers as he returns.
Abbie listens closely, trying to hear... anything. He is as quiet as a church mouse.
She jumps slightly when she feels his hands on her hips. "You won't be needing these," he purrs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties. Her hips lift automatically and he removes her only remaining garment.
Her heartbeat increases slightly as his fingers trail down her legs. She feels warmer, despite being completely exposed.
She hears him inhale deeply, then hears the very slight sound of fabric hitting carpet as he drops her panties to the floor. She smiles, fairly certain about what he was doing just before he let them go.
"I am going to touch you, Miss Mills," he declares.
"Good," Abbie answers.
"No talking," he says, a little sharper. "As I was saying, I am going to touch you. You must guess what with."
Abbie opens her mouth, then closes it.
"You may speak, but you may not ask questions. If you get too flippant, I will stop the game and you will not finish," Crane instructs, his voice soft but stern.
You will not finish. She mutely nods, understanding that he will leave her hanging if she's a smartass.
"Yes, Captain," she obediently says. He rewards her with a soft kiss on her collarbone. Then, he is gone again.
She waits. A moment later, something incredibly soft and light is running up her thigh. It barely feels like anything. Cool, but not cold. It traverses her stomach, circling her navel, then up to brush lightly across each nipple in turn. She hears Crane quietly inhale as her body responds to the feather-light touch.
That's it. "Feather," she breathes as he drags the object up the side of her neck.
"Correct," he says, flicking the tip of it against her nose. "That was an easy one."
She feels the bed shift as he moves to retrieve another item.
He starts at her neck this time, dragging downward. It feels almost the same as the feather, and she frowns.
"It's not another feather. You wouldn't do that," she says.
"True," he allows, drawing the item in circles around her nipple, gradually widening as he goes.
"It feels bigger… there's more mass to it."
"Also, true." He caresses her stomach with it, then travels down over her hip to her thigh. He reverses the direction and moves it up, dragging it over her womanhood.
"Ah," she breathes, the touch just enough to be tremendously frustrating. "What the hell is it?"
"No questions, Miss Mills," he reminds her, bringing the item back up.
"I wasn't actually asking. I was thinking out loud," she protests.
He drops it directly over her bellybutton, and she can feel it is larger than she thought, but still soft. "Perhaps…" he muses, bringing the item further up, trailing it over her skin, between her breasts, up her neck, over her chin, until it reaches her nose.
Abbie smiles. "It's a rose. I can smell it now."
"Very good," Crane says, bending down to kiss her lips. "You look strangely enticing. With most of your face obscured, these succulent lips of yours," he kisses her again, "look all the more kissable, as they are all I can see." He spends a few moments kissing her deeply, but only his lips touch her. She unthinkingly pulls at her silken bonds, wanting to pull him closer. "Growing frustrated, Treasure?" he asks, pulling away.
"A little," she admits.
"Well, then, I shall continue," he says.
This time, she hears some noises. A strange clinking sound. A light tap as something is set on the nightstand. She wants to ask, but keeps silent.
"Hmm," Crane ponders. Abbie can feel him moving on the bed, deciding what he wants to do. "I don't believe I've started... here..."
"Oh! Cold!" Abbie exclaims as something very cold brushes her nipple. Then, he swirls it around the stiffened peak. "Shit, that's an ice cube, isn't it?" she says, more an accusation than a question.
"Ah, you guessed that much too quickly," he says, trailing the cube across to the other breast. "I think I shall continue to play, if you do not mind."
"You'll continue even if I – ah! – do mind," she says, squirming a little as he teases her other nipple with the ice.
"Now, now, we both know that is not true," he calmly intones, dragging the cube down her stomach. He holds it over her navel and lets some water drip into it. "Do you want me to stop, Miss Mills?" he asks. Then, she feels the soft prickle of his beard on her stomach as he bends down and sucks the water out of her belly button before sliding his tongue into it for a moment.
"No," she gasps, "don't stop."
"Good," he replies, lifting his head. There is a pause, and from what she can hear, he is getting another ice cube out of the glass on the nightstand.
How many does he have?
She feels his hand at her knee, parting her legs a little further. Oh. Oh, no. He's not going to put it there...
Abbie inhales sharply, sucking air between her teeth as she feels the cold wetness of the ice cube drag along her folds, circle, and slide back down. "Oh..." she moans softly, "that's so... weird..."
Crane chuckles, then pushes the oblong chunk of ice inside her, his deft fingers sliding it in and out a few times.
She can feel the ice melting and feels a wet trail dripping down, collecting under her rear end, wetting the sheet.
Oh well.
"I am making a mess," he declares, moving the ice back to her most sensitive point. He gently presses it against her, then circles a few more times. "I believe that will do," he says. She hears him suck the ice cube into his mouth. "Mmm." Then, she hears the clink as he drops it back into the glass. "I think we need to heat you up a little bit now, don't you?"
Abbie feels something cold and hard slide across her stomach. Is that plastic? Or… "That had better not be a candle, Crane," she warns. "I am not down with dripping candle wax, so if it is, I will safe-word you so fas— oh!"
Crane cuts off her words by switching on the vibrator and moving it lower. He leans down and bestows a soft kiss on her lips. "I am ever mindful of your preferences and boundaries, my love. And, I do not think you need to guess what this is," he gently says, kissing her once more.
Abbie relaxes. "Of course you are, sorry," she sighs. "It was the only thing I could think of at the mo… oh… ment…"
He chuckles at her reaction to his placing the vibrator in exactly the right place while she was talking. "No apologies are necessary, Miss Mills," he says, moving the device away, up to her breasts.
She mewls her disappointment.
"I still need you to last longer," he says. "If I keep this item where you want it for too long, well…"
He circles the vibrator around her nipples a few times, then drags it back down again, where he teases her a few moments before slipping it inside.
"Mmm," she moans, automatically moving her hips with the motion of his hand as he slides it in and out a few times.
"I believe that will suffice," he murmurs, removing the vibrator and switching it off.
Abbie wants to complain, but she knows he's not done. He can't be. And if I do complain, he could still leave me hanging.
I don't think he actually would, but I'm not going to test that theory.
She hears him set the vibrator with the other items on the nightstand. The next thing she hears is a quiet, fabric-y sound, which she surmises must be Crane removing his boxers.
She tries not to smile too much.
The bed dips again as he sits beside her, and the next thing she feels is the warm wetness of his lips and tongue on the side of her neck. Once again, he doesn't touch her anywhere else; only her neck with his mouth.
"Mmm, I like this one," she purrs, moving her head to give him more room. "This might be my favorite."
"Might be?" he asks, lifting his head for just a moment.
"Is," she confirms. Her answer gets the result for which she is hoping, and he resumes what he was doing, moving more fully over her as he trails wet kisses down over her collar bone to her breasts.
Crane takes his time, sucking, kissing, and flicking her nipples, his hands braced on either side of Abbie's body on the bed. His long fingers curl into the sheet as he wills them to stay put, and he suddenly wonders if he is tormenting himself more than he is Abbie.
"Your skin is truly a wonder." His voice is low, his lips brushing her as he speaks, his warm breath caressing her skin. "The texture... color... flavor..." he pauses, lightly nipping the side of her breast as he travels down to her belly, taught and firm but feminine and sexy, where he once again attends to her bellybutton. He lightly drags his lips along her skin from her navel to her hipbone. "Your scent is always so divine..."
"Oh, God, Ichabod," she whispers, neglecting to call him "Captain" in the haze of desire he has conjured.
If he notices, he doesn't comment or seem to care. He is too busy nudging her knees apart with his nose so he can kiss, lick, and nip his way up her inner thigh. "Mmm," he hums pleasurably when he reaches his target, the vibrations from his deep voice adding another subtle layer of sensation.
His tongue is tireless, alternately sliding along her folds, circling her sensitive bundle of nerves, and thrusting inside as far as it can. Abbie squirms under Crane's ministrations, her back arching off the bed, hips rocking instinctively against his mouth.
Finally, he can take no more, and his hands finally make contact with her skin. He grips her thighs, then her hips, sliding them down to squeeze her backside.
"Oh... finally..." Abbie gasps. She's been waiting for those large, rough palms to glide skillfully over her skin and find all the places he knows so well.
Crane moves his hands up to cover her breasts, his palms grazing her nipples before closing his hands over the soft mounds.
She moans and writhes beneath him, her breathing becoming harsh and shallow as his tongue continues its decadent assault below.
"Ohhh..." Her moan is long and drawn out. She pulls at the scarves binding her hands to the headboard.
Able to read his lieutenant like a book, Crane knows she is very close, and pulls back, bestowing one more small kiss on her inner thigh.
Abbie whimpers a little, then she feels his body over hers, completely surrounding her.
"Miss Mills, would you like the mask to stay on, or shall I take it off?" he asks, the tip of his manhood poised at her opening, teasing her, waiting for her decision.
"On," she answers immediately. "Leave it on."
"Mmm, naughty girl," he rumbles, moving his hips ever so slightly, just to tease her a little more. "I like it." He plunges his hips forward, burying himself deep.
"Ooo," Abbie moans, wrapping her legs around him because her arms are useless. "Yes... oh..."
Crane shifts his weight to rest on one hand so the other can return to her breast, his thumb rubbing across her nipple. He bends his back to kiss her lips, the difference in their heights a challenge but not an obstacle as he kisses her deeply, pouring his soul into her.
"Oh... I love you so much," he groans, tearing his lips away just long enough to speak the words.
"I love you, too," she answers, squeezing him with her legs.
He understands what she wants and increases his pace, moving faster and harder, and seconds later, she comes crashing down around him.
"Oh, yes!" she cries out. "Ichabod..." she sighs, feeling boneless.
He tumbles right after her, her name on his lips, as always. "Ah... Abbie... Love," he grunts, stilling as he pulses within her. His body slumps with release for a few heartbeats, then he reaches up, removes her mask, then pulls the tails of the scarves to untie the knots. Her hands flop limply onto the bed.
Crane rolls them so she is lying on top of him, gently disengaging himself in the process.
"My arms are asleep," Abbie says. "But, that was fun." She looks over and sees the feather, the rose, the glass with the now mostly-melted ice, and the vibrator.
He obligingly rubs her arms, trying to bring the feeling back into them. It's a little awkward given their positions, but he manages. "So, would you do this again?" he asks.
"Oh, yeah," she answers, her lips curving into a crafty smile.