Patrick knew the magical ratio of intense suction to teasing strokes. The smooth slide of his tongue put my nerves on edge, and the muffled vibration of his words against my body sent tremors through my core.
He babbled about how wet I was, and that I was beautiful, and this was exactly where he wanted me. With his lips sealed around my clit, my heels dug into his back and my hips lifted off the mattress, and I wasthisclose. A glance at the clock told me it took him less than three minutes.
“You really are a sweaty rugby Sex God,” I slurred, my breath coming in halting pants.
He broke away with a laugh, quirking an eyebrow at me that clearly indicated he had no idea what I was talking about before leaning over to fish a condom from the bedside table. The shiny evidence of my arousal painted Patrick’s mouth and chin, and I wanted to drag him to me and lick it away.
“You can lick it in a minute, dirty girl.”
I groaned in frustration when the smooth fabric around my wrists refused to budge. Somewhere along the line, I failed to recognize that being tied down meant losing the use of my hands. Illogical as it might be, I always imagined touching Patrick while restrained, and though the absence of control ratcheted up the anticipation, I missed the feel of his skin on my fingers.
Once sheathed, Patrick knelt between my legs and positioned his hands on my hips. I heard him speaking, asking me questions, but the ceiling was spinning and his words blurred together, and I nodded absently. Note to self: mystery shots are off-limits.
He started to shift my body, and understanding hit me. “No, please don’t.”
Patrick stilled, his hands gently rubbing my hips while concern flashed in his eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I want you like this,” I insisted, my voice more petulant than Veruca Salt herself. “Please. I need to see you and I want you close.”
Patrick studied me for a long moment, and I fought the torrent of thoughts threatening to slip from my lips. I wanted to explain I liked it—uh, no, I loved it—from behind, and I knew I’d love it even more with the excitement of the restraints, but I hated being cut off from the raw, unrefined reactions on his face. I needed to see every emotion burning in his eyes.
I needed to know this was dragging him under, too.
Even if it was the worst possible idea in the history of terrible ideas, I wanted to believe I meant something to him, something more than sex, and watching him gave me that.
Shifting to lie beside me, Patrick dragged his fingers over my hair and kissed me, his lips patient and generous until my heart stopped racing. The hand in my hair cruised up my arm, and with a blind flick, he freed my hands. I was immediately annoyed I hadn’t found the escape hatch, but that was replaced with the relief I could touch Patrick again, and frustration that I failed to fully achieve yet another fantasy.
I started to shift toward Patrick, but he gripped my wrists. “Don’t move yet. Your arms are numb. Your joints will be sore and the blood flow will come back in a minute,” he whispered against my ear, his hands gently massaging my skin. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah.”
Patrick nodded, and his teeth scraped across my earlobe until I understood the meaning of the word boneless. His kisses rained over my lips and cheeks and nose and eyelids before he dipped his head to my chest where he sucked my nipples into dark little pearls.
“You taste so good,” he groaned, his hands spreading over my breasts. “I’ve wanted to tie you to this bed and lick you for so long…and now I just want to do it again.”
My hands found their way over Patrick’s shoulders, and I steered him on top of me. “I want you. I need to feel you.”
My arms wrapped around his shoulders when he filled me and his hips started rolling against me. I saw another side of Patrick—a side I doubted the existence of after he left my ass covered in beautifully tiny bruises outlined by the imprint of his teeth last weekend. I didn’t mind—rough, growly sex with Patrick made me realize what I’d been missing all these years—but the smooth thrusts of his hips and calm caresses were special.
His body covered me entirely, his warmth chasing away the lingering chill while his mouth attended to the sensitive juncture of my neck and shoulder. We rocked together, our hushed sighs and moans filling the air around us, and I could feel the heavy ache of my orgasm as it waited to unravel.
“Faster?” I asked, my mouth sweeping over Patrick’s jaw.
“No,” he gasped, his body tensing as he thrust into me and stilled. “This is…perfect.”
And it was. If staying like this forever were an option, I’d take it in a heartbeat.
Patrick wrapped my legs around his waist, and the depth he discovered pushed me to the edge. I was coming with soft whimpers, my fingernails gripping Patrick’s waist and hips for a little more friction to keep the tingles going.
He whispered into my ear, “So deep, right like this. All I feel is your pussy squeezing me, fuck…how do you do that?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I laughed.
“Mmm. Andy.” Patrick’s eyes drifted shut and he smiled. “God, you’re incredible. And you’re mine.”
I flexed my inner muscles until he shuddered and moaned before going slack.
His heart pounded against my breast—was it normal to like someone’s heartbeat so much?
