Chapter 70: Chapter 70

Cleeeeeeeean!” I bellowed it. I was angry, but that was because I was hot. It was hotter than fuck, and

I hate heat.

“I am cleaning,” Mark said.

I stood in the center of his workroom and stared. There was…stuff as far as the eye could see. Nails in baby-food jars, loops of rope, screws, hammers, sand- paper. There was a crab bushel full of electrical wire and it appeared to be severed at both ends. Both. Ends. What the fuck was that for?

“This is not clean,” I whispered. “This is an episode of one of those shows about people who hoard,” I growled. But I pressed my ass to his workbench and tried to catch my breath. It might be insanely cluttered, but at least it was cool. No wonder this was his man lair.

I fanned myself and looked around some more. Men’s magazines, cigar boxes full of god knew what. Jars, hinges and three clocks. Three.

“Everything here has a purpose, either presently or in the future,” Mark chuckled, opening his mini-fridge. He popped a wheat beer and took a hefty swig.

“Oh, really?” I snapped.

“Really.” He handed me the beer and watched me swallow three big swigs. He was amused. Even more so when I stifled a tiny burp. Thank goodness it was tiny. Sometimes beer makes me sound like a trucker after a truck-stop diner.

“Don’t fuck with me,” I said. “It’s hot.”

“Hey, you’re the genius who declared the hottest day of the summer as cleaning day. Not like…weekly cleaning, but trucks-full-of-stuff-to-the-dump cleaning.” He finished off the cold beer.

“This room is a trip to the dump!” I knew deep down it was the heat and not him, but I couldn’t quite seem to zip my lip.

“Well, this room is staying as is.” He crossed his arms.

The cold beer and the cool room made my poor over- heated body’s wires cross. My nipples spiked and goose bumps rose up on my skin.

He touched me and I bristled.

“Everything has a purpose, my ass,” I said.

“Pick something,” he said, leaning against the wall as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Which only served to

anger me more.

“Pick something?”

He circled the hard point of my nipple with his fingertip. I jumped, surprised by the unexpected move. But once the surprise passed, the aftermath of that touch seared through the core of me, settling wetly in my pussy. He played dirty.

“Did I stutter?”

“The cord,” I said, cocking my hips and raising my voice. I’d show him to mess with my head like that. I was mad, not turned on. Touching me had just…confused things.

“What cord?” His eyes danced around his little den of solitude.

I barked laughter and threw my hands up in the air. “See! You don’t even know what cord. The cord in the crab bushel? It appears to be severed on both ends. So what the hell use you could have for that I’d love to know.”

“Ah, this cord?” He snagged an orange length of said cord. He waggled it at me.

“Yep.” I crossed my arms. He should just admit defeat now and help me empty this insanely full room.

The cord slithered from his grip to coil at my feet. “Damn,” he said, squatting to gather it up.

I started making a mental list of all the shit I’d clear out of this room. That was what I started doing. Until I noticed he’d looped the orange cord around my ankles, binding ankle to ankle with enough give for me to move

a bit but tight enough to keep me from getting my ankles free of the loops he’d tied.

“What the fuck, Mark?” I breathed, realization already starting to dawn. “This isn’t a Boy Scout exhibi- tion. Untie me.”

“Oh, I’m no Boy Scout,” my husband said and tugged the tie on my shorts.

“Don’t do that,” I said, but there was no steel in my voice. It was all breathy and…expectant.

“This?” He tugged once more to get a final bit of stubborn bow to pull free. “How about this?” He pushed my shorts down to my bound ankles.

Now I was standing in his cluttered mind fuck of a workroom in my pale-yellow panties. “Pull them back up.”

“What’s that? Make sure to pull these down?” He pulled my panties down lazily. Watching me with his big brown eyes as he did. Waiting to see what I’d do. What I’d say.

“Mark—”

“Shh…” He kissed me once above each knee. My legs erupted in goose bumps this time. Now I was aroused, still a bit overheated and in a cool dungeon- like workroom. My body was the definition of chaos. A fine example was the tickle of fluid I felt slipping from my pussy.

“Mark…” I began, but I forgot what I was going to say. I shifted as best as I could with my ankles bound and my husband’s big hands on my thighs.

“See, I think you are getting way too worked up over this cleaning thing, Eva.” He kissed my inner thigh, slipped a single finger into my cunt, scrambled my brain with his ministrations.

“I…”

“This is a workroom. It’s supposed to be cluttered and stuffed full of…stuff.”

“I…” That seemed to be all I could say. The clearest thought I could form. Pitiful.

His tongue slid, slow and eager, over my clitoris and my knees dipped like I was curtseying. So he walked me back, shuffling forward on his knees until my ass hit his workbench and I was braced.

“I am not touching anything in this workroom but you. It’s all useful. Take this cord for example…” But he broke off his own sentence and latched his searing mouth over my pussy and sucked mightily. The pressure from that suction worked deep inside of me. My clit ached for him to lick me. My heart pounded, bringing fresh blood to my cheeks that had nothing at all to do with the ninety-something-degree temperature.

“I…”

“Need to say a new word,” he laughed and then gave me what I needed. Broad, slick drags of his tongue over that small knot of an organ. So much pleasure concen- trated into one tiny place.

For some reason I had forgotten my hands were not bound, only my ankles, and I held them clutched together between my breasts. But I finally realized I

could move them and I clutched the workbench with one hand and my husband with the other. He never let up with his tongue, delivering slippery circles and bold prods with the rigid tip of his tongue until he grunted once and stood, undoing his shorts.

He turned me so my belly brushed the lip of his table and my legs were spread as wide as his nifty orange cord would allow. He took my hand and put it under my stomach and said, “Use this if you need it. But you might not. You’re wet as a waterfall, Eva.”

He nipped my shoulder with his sharp white teeth and then forced three fingers into my pussy, thrusting into me until I let my head fall forward in surrender. I was going to come if he kept doing that.

“Please,” I said.

“Oh, a new word,” Mark chuckled.

I smiled, my ire long forgotten. I pushed my ass up and back as he slid the tip of his cock between my legs. I pushed back more eagerly when he penetrated me just a bit and then stilled.

“I’m not cleaning out this room.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” I chanted, nodding my head like a maniacal marionette.

“Any other room you want is fine,” he whispered, sliding in another inch but stilling again.

“Yes, okay, great!” I yelped.

Laughing softly at my expense, he gripped my hips up tight and rammed into me. My belly hit the work- bench and I rattled jars and tools and bungee cords. My

fingers flew over my clit, I didn’t really need it, but the extra pressure felt too good to deny.

“This won’t take long,” he groaned. “Something about seeing you all trussed up does it for me.”

I sighed, pinching my clit hard between my fingertips as Mark surged forward and when he grunted, taking my earlobe in his teeth and my breast in his hand, I started to rub again and I came. As soon as I came, he lost his battle and groaned out his release against my neck.

“Did you hear me?” Mark panted, stroking my breast gently so the nipple went erect again.

“I heard you.” “And?”

“If this is the payoff, you can hoard all you want.” I was blushing. It felt good.

“Let me recuperate, and I’ll let you pick another item. We’ll see what we can do with that.” Then he bent to untie me.