I’m a puddle.
I lift my head. “Are you going to tie me up?”
“I might,” he says into the skin below my belly button. “Because you won’t stop squirming around. And I kind of want to make it worse.”
“Well my safe word is ‘Make it so.’ ”
“Picard’s catchphrase, huh?” He laughs.
“I’ve done someStar Trekresearch.”
“That’s a terrible safe word. Very confusing.” He pushes himself off the bed. “Don’t move.” It’s reassuring that he doesn’t keep handcuffs on his nightstand. Also that he has a nightstand.
No worries about my moving because my legs are still jelly.
“This is our best option,” he says when he returns, holding up two bright yellow…bungee cords? “Ratcheting straps.” He doesn’t wait for me to ask. “For tying down cargo on a truck.”
“Perv,” I reply, holding out my wrists. “Promise not to slice open my jugular.”
“I promise not to slice open your jugular.” He kisses the inside of my wrists. “I was thinking the carotid anyway.”
The fact that I can laugh at that is a credit to how safe I feel, even as I lift my hands over my head.
He takes each of my wrists in those giant, warm callused hands and loops the straps through the slats of his headboard behindme.
See? Yet another reason for a man to purchase a bed frame.
“Feel okay?”
“I’ve decided my new safe word is ‘two to beam up.’ ” It makes him laugh again, and I’m proud of myself for generating not one, but twoStar Trekphrases without the aid of Google.
I’m not completely calm. I’m not even 50 percent calm. There’s a part of my brain or my nervous system that’s doing calculations, racing into potential futures, getting jumpy with every unexpected brush of skin.
But what I also feel is that Nick seems to get that.
His mouth feels soft and malleable but so firm. I’ll be honest, oral usually does nothing much for me. I’ve been known to moan a little bit and pretend like I’m having a great time until the other person moves on or I go down on him just to keep things pushing forward.
Right now? I don’t even want to push forward. I just want his mouth on me for the foreseeable future. I want him to just barely graze the ticklish spot beneath my rib cage that makes me whine. I want him to tug on my nipples with his teeth and make my back arch off the bed from just that and wanting more.
He continues until I cannot fucking take it anymore and I’m positive that he can’t, either. He’s talking into my skin and I can’t actually hear the words, but Igetall of them perfectly.He wants me and I want him to devour me. I can’t say that’s something I’ve ever longed for, but oh my fucking God I think I gasp something like “take me,” which would be humiliating under any other circumstance but also,holy shit,I demand to be taken.
Nick lowers his head so, so gradually until it’s like he’s sinking into the foot of his bed. I feel his hairline against my belly button. There’s not a thing I can do about it and I’ve never been happier about not being in control.
I struggle with single-minded focus most of the time. Not now. My mind has blocked out all potential distractions. There’s nothing to look at: no framed artwork, no bookshelves, no laundry on the floor. As far as I’m concerned, Nick’s room doesn’t even have walls. Whatever he’s doing to me right now has filled up all available space. And what he’s doing is teasing me mercilessly for what feels like twenty minutes.
With my hands over my head, other parts of my body become more sensitive to touch, temperature, sensation. My upper back drags against his linen bedspread. His fingers dig into my hips and the backs of my thighs. Anytime I try to squirm away, he holds me tighter. Every abdominal muscle I have is tense and contracting, trying to prolong the inevitable but also helplessly rushing toward the edge.
His mouth is right on my clit and I’m so close. Straining. Inches from the other side. And then he moves, kissing down my right thigh. I suck in a breath because obviously it’s not the carotid I need to worry about. It’s notquiteenough and he knows thatandhe knows I do not have my hands available to, say, grab the back of his head.
This man is going to fully torment me while my hands slowly fall asleep.
Sure enough, he retraces the path back to my center, tonguenudging over and over in such a steady rhythm, letting me believe that I will come any moment…any moment…
He swerves to the other side and I let out some kind of frustrated groan.
Twisting at my waist, I push back on his mouth in a way that seems almost rude. I honestly didn’t know my hips were capable of these angles.
“Hey.” Nick’s head comes up for a second. “Be good.”
