He chuckled, pleased. He stroked her hair, the side of her face and reached behind him for a knife.It was hard not to cringe away and show her fear bu... she managed. He played with the knife for a moment, pushing the blade into his own finger tip just enough to leave a welt but not to cut the flesh. He was good with knives, not as good as the other was, but in his own way, an expert.He reached above her and did something with the knife, surprising her when she felt the ropes around her arms go. “Give me one detail,” I prod. “Shoes.”“Well,” she pauses, “I bought new boots.”“High heel?”“Four-inch. But they’re kind of thick, not the spiky kind.”I love her taste in boots. I feel a pleasant throb in my groin. “Okay, you win. I’ll wear ‘em.”“Really?” The lilt is back.“Really. I’ll see you at 7.”Franc’s right, they do stretch. Like a second skin. I have a little trouble getting my dick into the sock because the joint at the base seems even tighter than the rest, but once I realize that. More

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