He draws down the zip at the side of my dress and pulls it over my head as steam begins to fill the room. As fast as the dress hits the white floor tiles, my nipple is in his mouth. The noise he makes as he pulls it through his teeth makes the pain and the swirl of his tongue that follows an even sweeter sensation. My back arches towards him as he performs the same trick on my other breast.
Lifting me with one hand, he yanks my thong down my thighs then follows with his tongue the line of the satin to my ankles. He takes off my shoes then rises, pulling me to him again. His lips meet my neck, then my collarbone, as his hands work my breasts.
‘Take off my trousers.’
I unbuckle then unbutton him and push down his boxers and trousers, freeing him.
He rolls his hard dick against my swollen sex. ‘This is what you do to me.’
He lifts me and takes us into the thick steam, setting me down under the shower’s hot spray. I move a leg between his and rub against him as his tongue attacks mine, turning, licking, tasting. Then he moves to my breast, biting the nipple, sucking the most sensitive skin, drawing blood to the surface. Wild, carnal possession that has me writhing against him.
Bending, he hooks my legs over his shoulders and I yelp as he unexpectedly hoists me up, my back pressed against the white tiles above him, his hands and shoulders holding my thighs up and open, his face at my desperate entrance. I fist my hands in his hair as his tongue strikes a line up my centre and massages my clit.
‘Jesus! Gregory!’
He quickens his pace, moving his tongue between seductively circling my clit and dipping into me. From here, I can see everything. Watching him control and devour me pushes me towards a climax. My shoulders roll against the tiles, I yank harder at his hair.
‘Gregory, I’m there.’
He doesn’t stop; he works relentlessly until my head spins, my insides ignite around him and I scream his name.
Leaning my head back, I slide my legs from his shoulders and he lowers me down, steadying me with his hands on my hips. I drop my head to his chest as he rinses his face under the spray of the shower.
With a bent index finger, he lifts my chin. ‘Fuck me with your mouth.’
Gladly.
Keeping my eyes on his, I bend to my knees, my hands gliding over his wet muscles, coming to rest on to his hips. A drop of pre-come escapes his tip and I lap it up, savouring his taste. Sliding my arm between his legs, I move my fingers around his back entrance, then drag them forward along his hard base, his moan spurring me on. I cup his sack, still stroking his base, and delight in his head falling back, showing strained muscles in his neck and chest.
I lick from his base to his tip then turn my tongue around the head, taking another bead of early release. He braces his hands on the tiles in front of him, watching as I wrap my lips around him and take him to the back of my throat in one swift move.
‘Christ, Scarlett, what you do to my cock. That mouth.’
He moves one hand to my hair and holds my head still as he moves himself slowly in and out of me, bringing water to my eyes. His thighs tense, his arse cheeks stiffen under my hands, and his rhythm stutters. I tighten my grip, pumping quicker, turning my tongue around his tip and teasing his arse with my free hand.
‘Jesus! Fuck! That’s so good, baby.’
He comes so much, anyone would think it’s been longer than twenty-four hours since his last release. I swallow every drop he has to offer.
We wrap in towel dressing gowns and I follow his orders, moving to the four-post bed, whilst he retrieves the Pol Rodger from the lounge.
Those black eyes are still unsated. Lucky for me.
I hold out my hand but he puts the ice bucket and two glasses of champagne on the bedside unit. Then tugs my legs so I’m lying flat on the bed and yanks the tie from my gown, freeing my arms as he pushes off the robe, exposing me to him.
‘Arms above your head,’ he demands.
Everything south of my waist throbs in response, excited, expectant.
He wraps the wool tie twice around my wrists, then around the horizontal frame of the bed.
‘I like it when you play kinky,’ I tell him.
A fleeting smile curls on one side of his lips. He moves backwards off the bed, my head lifting from the mattress to watch as his robe drops to the floor. I throw my head back on a desperate laugh as he takes his own robe belt and moves to the side of the bed. I watch his effervescent champagne fill his mouth and slide down his throat, enjoying the strong rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
Gregory and champagne. A truly delectable combination.
His knees part my legs roughly then he leans forward and lifts my head so he can tie his wool belt across my eyes. His weight leaves the bed and I hear him moving around the room, opening and closing a drawer, then The Daysleepers’ ‘The Secret Place’ drowns out all other noise. My sight and sound senses are completely gone, my ability to touch constrained. I worm restlessly in the bed.
