Color her intrigued. “Are you going kinky on me?”
“We can do whatever we want.” He ended their conversation with a kiss that stole her breath and dulled her active brain. All she could focus on was the erotic duel of his tongue with hers and the shudder of helpless delight holding her in thrall.
He pulled back. “I happen to enjoy giving my lover pleasure.”
“But it’s still my turn. Let me taste you.”
“I’d like to do that too, but not if you’re sore. I need control.”
Her tongue darted out to swipe her bottom lip.
He sucked in a quick breath, and she heard his now familiar yet strange rumbly purr. “Enough of that provocative behavior, Miss Miller-Pope.”
She looped her arms around his neck and grinned.
Hone rose to dig around in his bag. He came out with a navy-blue scarf.
Some of her good mood faded. “Do you travel with blindfolds?”
“I packed it when you weren’t paying attention.”
“Oh.”
“Cassie, look at me.” When she did, his gaze that reddish-brown glow. “It’s true I’ve had other women. I like women, but right now, you have my full attention. I’m here with you because that’s what I want. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, cursing herself. Stupid insecurities.
“You still want me to put on the blindfold?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate this time. She trusted Hone. He wouldn’t hurt her physically, not intentionally.
He sat on the edge of the bed, swept the hair from her face. His lids rested at half-mast and his lips curved in a faint grin. Her insides clenched, a spear of desire darting through her sex. She knew what awaited her and couldn’t wait to experience his controlled passion again.
“I like your hair loose.” He smoothed his hand over her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Her mouth dried. Silly, really. They’d made love three times throughout the night, each time heat-pumping good.
With quick competency, he tied the scarf in place. A pent-up breath whooshed from her, and she started when his whiskers rasped across the delicate skin of her neck.
“I want you on all fours. You okay with that?”
“Position me,” she said, her pulse racing a little faster. Sex with Keven had been quick vanilla stuff in the missionary position. This—Hone—kept her off-balance.
He guided her into place. “You’re beautiful. Sexy.” His hand ran over one buttock without warning, and she let out a nervous laugh. “Widen your stance. Yep, perfect.”
The mattress shifted and warm air blew down her slit. The action repeated and then his tongue licked and circled her nub. Sensations coursed to life. Her hips jolted, but Hone gripped them, forcing her to stillness.
“Not yet,” he said.
She jumped at the sting on her right buttock. “Hey.”
“Do as you’re told.” His gruff voice lit a flame inside her and expectation, anticipation, had her pulse racing, her breathing hitching. With her sight shrouded, every other sense overloaded her with information. She could smell his aftershave, hear her hoarse breathing while her pussy pulsed and craved friction.
He licked her again, keeping each stroke gentle against her tender flesh. She sighed and relaxed as much as she could to enjoy his attentions. Another lick teased her. She waited for more and nothing happened. Her throat worked, and she groaned.
“Easy, sweetheart. Just getting the lube.”
A rustle sounded, the crackle of plastic and a sharp creak. The thumbing open of a lid?
