When his mouth fastens over my other nipple, sucking at it through the lace of the dress, I yelp. His tongue is so warm, almost hot against my skin and I can feel the tip of his tongue playing with my suddenly and painfully sensitive nipple. When he growls, the vibration travels from his mouth to my skin like an electric shock.
My hands fly up, trying to grab something to hold onto, something to anchor me and he takes my wrists, pulling themover my head. “Hold onto the bedrail, sweet Ivy. Don’t move them. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir? Where didthatcome from?
“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear before giving the lobe a sharp nip, making me yelp.
The blindfold is wildly disorienting and I grip the bedrail tighter. I can feel his breath on the bare skin of my chest and the lacy material of the dress sliding away, the rough feel of his hands, squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples, and chuckling every time I jump.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and for the first time, I can hear a tinge of something else in his accent. Just a soft burr that could be Irish, maybe? Scottish? Then his hands push my breasts together and his hot mouth swoops down on my nipples, biting and pulling and I can’t think of anything at all.
“Bad girl.”
“Huh?” I’m panting, embarrassingly eager and disappointed that he stopped until I realize one of my hands is gripping his shirt.
“If you can’t behave, I’ll have to tie you.” He sounds amused by this, rather than displeased and before I can think of an objection, I feel a soft rope twine between my wrists, binding me to the headboard. “Now be quiet, sweet lass or I’ll gag you.”
I suddenly remember that scary list of all the things he could use to gag me and I gulp, nodding rapidly. His knee pushes mine apart and his hands move again, sliding up the thin skin of my inner thighs, lifting the dress out of his way until I feelhis thumbs stroking over the nearly non-existent panties I’m wearing.
“Such a good girl, you’re wet already,” he murmurs approvingly. He slides down my body, placing kisses on my stomach until his shoulders are blocking my legs open and he’s blowing a stream of hot air against the wet panel of my undies.
Oh, my god, Iamwet! What is wrong with me? Something cold taps against my hip bone and before I can react, he’s cut off the only scrap of silk and lace left between my unprotected lady garden and his mouth. When he taps his finger against my clitoris, a… zing shoots up my spine, an electrical charge that makes my center throb like a heartbeat.
Sucking in a desperate breath, I try to keep quiet. I don’t want him to gag me. He licks me, a long, greedy sweep of his tongue from my channel to my clitoris, and back again.
“Sweet as candy, this pussy,” he growls as my back arches and I let out a long moan. His finger slides up inside me and I feel his lips back on my clitoris, sucking it into his mouth and tugging lightly.
“Mmmm…” Pressing my lips together, I try desperately to be quiet but no one has put their mouth on me before. It always seemed too personal and now a complete stranger is licking at me like I’m an ice cream cone and based on his pleased grunts, he’s enjoying it as much as I am. His thick finger curls, pushing hard against the delicate, sensitive places inside me and then he adds another one.
“Come, my sweet, good girl. Come for me.” I feel his mouth moving against my wet lips and he runs his bristly chin over my painfully sensitive clitoris and I do. I come with a gasp and a shriek and tugging mindlessly against my tied hands because the heat barreling up my spine and back down to my center feels likemy entire lower half has detonated into a million pieces and my brain scatters with them, riding wave after wave of pleasure.
“Please, Michael…” I moan, “Please, no more. Let me… I gotta catch my breath.”
There’s a low, guttural chuckle and he adds a third finger inside me. “Not yet. Fuck my fingers. Work yourself on my hand.”
They curl inside me and then spread, stretching me and he’s fucking me, hard and fast, and when his lips fasten around my clitoris and he bites it, very gently, I scream. Like a banshee. Like an insane person because nothing could feel this good.
Chapter Eight
In which there are orgasms and kidnappings. Such a buzzkill...
Ethan…
Fuck mo bheatha tha i foirfe,feck my life, she’s perfect.
The low light plays over the smooth curves of her, those heaving breasts with delightfully stiff nipples and her pink mouth, open and gasping for air. I’d only intended to keep her occupied until my driver pulled around to the back of the club, but… she’s so beautiful. And so responsive. I kiss her, making her taste herself, how sweet she is when she comes.
Getting a cloth from the connected bathroom, I wipe between her thighs, enjoying her little gasp before straightening her dress and tucking her breasts back in. Pulling the ropes loose, I bring her arms back down, resting her hands on her stomach.
A soft chime on my phone tells me my driver’s waiting for us by the back entrance. “I’m picking you up, Ivy. Keep your blindfold on.”
Sitting up abruptly, her hands fly up to the blindfold and I hold them still. “Where are you taking me?”
“Another room, don’t be concerned, I have your list of limits here. We won’t do anything you’ve said no to.”
“Oh… okay.” She lets me scoop her up and even puts her arms around my neck.
