She whimpered.
“Remember the signal?”
She nodded, bunching the tablecloth beneath her turned chin.
He reclaimed the master’s seat, doubting that of all the ruthless bastards that had sat in this very chair, any had ever been served anything so mouthwateringly exquisite.
He inched the chair forward, admiring at his leisure.
Patience was part of the game. Deliberate, studied, occasional pained restraint on his part—and on hers, calibrated attention, curbed impulse, delayed—but ultimately convulsing—gratification.
None of which would come, for Julia in particular, without struggle.
He watched her make minor adjustments as she found her comfort—she lifted her depressed hips, rose to her toes, braced her knees against the table legs.
Her slight wiggle—and the moan that followed—pulsed achingly in his balls.
Her rocked torso confirmed what he suspected…she’d discovered the pleasurable sensation of a silky tablecloth against her nipples.
Enough of Julia wasn’t ever a state he expected to experience.
“Are you just going tolook?” she demanded.
The side of his lip lifted—she’d given him the perfect excuse to test the receptivity of those delightfully curved cheeks.
“I said not to speak.” He flattened his palm and lightly whacked.
Ah, the noise she made—a small gasp that melted into a wanton moan.
She fisted her hand. He held his breath. He’d taken a risk in order to feel that tingle in his fingers and see the bright pink stain across her posterior cheek.
She lowered her splayed hands flat against the table with no other sound but a wrenching belly sigh.
“Shall I give you another?”
She nodded.
He cupped his hand to ease the sting and wacked again, harder.
She bunched the tablecloth in her hands, tucked down her chin, and lifted her ass—all the encouragement he required. He met her unspoken request, alternating short, swift swats with caresses that ended with his prickling fingers dipped into her wet.
When both cheeks were pleasantly warmed, he settled his thumbs into the indentations in her lower back—a touch he knew from experience would quiet her mind. He manipulated her muscle in slow, hard circles until her shoulders visibly relaxed and she turned her face back to the side.
He’d planned to bring her to satisfaction with his tongue—but he couldn’t wait.
“I’m going to penetrate you now.” A warning, not a question.
He grasped her hips and slid inside.
He bent over her body, content, for the moment, to be fully gloved in smooth heat. He kissed her spine, her neck, her shoulder. He braced his palm at the side of her face, startled when she licked and then lightly bit his thumb.
Reflexively, he bucked; her inner muscles clenched.
He wedged his other hand beneath her breast, kneading and pumping as she panted.
The last sounds he recalled were the rattling cutlery, her cries, and his deep-throated wail of shattering surrender.
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