“Yep.” He smirks. “And I’m hungry, sweet girl.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Rae
ISETTLE BACK ONTOthe shiny, padded black surface, staring up at the pressed-tin ceiling.
Grant grabs my thighs and drags me to the end of the bench, slowly slides my skirt up, and lets out a low, gravelly sound as he reveals first the garters and, above them, my complete lack of underwear. The man usually knows what to say, so I’ll take his inability to find words as a good thing.
A deep inhalation and then the snap of one garter. “You know, when you got down on hands and knees in the office, I had an inkling? I pictured a thong.”
The leather’s cold under my ass, the sensation of lying back like this almost clinical until the rough pads of his fingers stroke me, and then it is anything but.
The music is slow, the beat heavy but subtle. Sexy. Warm.
“Now, tell me the truth, Sunny,” Grant says as he kisses my neck and my cleavage before moving down to my lower half. “Did you come?”
My whisperedno!feels wrenched from my lungs.
“Hmmmm.” I see the doubt written plainly on his face. “Last night? This morning?”
“No, sir.”
His grunt is pleased. I think. I can’t tell. I want to ask him if he came, but I’m not sure I’m allowed, and then he’s cupping my breast and my linguistic skills fly the coop.
My hands flail out and land on handles apparently meant for grabbing just like this.
Grant’s now making his slow way up a leg, down the other, ignoring my aching pussy like it’s not the objective here.
When we both know it is.
“I want…”
“What, sweet girl? Tell me.”
I shake my head.
“If you want it, say it.”
“Touch me,” I beg.
“Where? Here?”
At my eager nod, he gives a touch, light and quick, on my mound. Strokes and applies pressure to my abdomen just above it. I curl up, but he urges my legs down. “No. No, no, no. You don’t move. At all.”
I squirm, and he slaps me between the legs, making me go perfectly still. I don’t want any more slapping. Or do I? I think I do.
Crap, it’s all mixed up. The pleasure, the pain, the simplicity of taking whatever he gives. I was already wet with want when I left the house this morning. Now I’m absolutely soaking.
“What about you?” I finally ask, dying to know. “Did you get to come?”
“What do you think?”
He sweeps my right leg back, presses my other thigh to mirror it, and I’m spread wide open in this dark, cavernous place.
“I… I… don’t know.”
The laugh he lets out is devoid of humor. “I came three times, baby. Twice last night. Once this morning to take the edge off.” The graze of his thumb over my entire pussy is too light to satisfy, but the aftershocks it sets off light up nerve endings I had no idea were there.
