She had no illusions. It may have been her hands touching her aching flesh, but it was his command that made her wet. Feeling brazen, needy and wanton, she parted her sex with one hand holding herself open for him to see before sliding two fingers over her swollen clit. She couldn’t bite back the gasp. Every inch of her felt more, wanted more, needed more than it ever had before. She started to stroke, and Luke relaxed back in his chair to watch her, sipping his drink and driving her on with just his expectations.
In moments, she was on the verge of orgasm, her breaths coming in gasps as her fingers slid over her clit and curled inside her, stroking her closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s enough,” he said, closing the distance between them and dropping to his knees in front of her. He reached for her hands, positioning them on the arm of the chair. “Now you keep your hands here and I’m going to do my damndest to try to make you move them.”
Before she had a chance to process what he’d said, he bent forward, drawing one of her aching nipples into his hot mouth and sucking. Hard. Her back bowed, and her breath went out on a cry. She gripped the arms of the chair with what she was sure were knuckles gone white with the effort of not letting go, but she couldn’t see them. She couldn’t open her eyes. Her entire world had narrowed to the point where his mouth met her flesh.
“That’s it, Claire,” he said when he released her nipple with a soft pop. “Let go. Let go of it all. I’ll take care of you. I can handle this.”
She knew he was talking about more than this moment. She should say something, acknowledge his words, but his mouth found her other nipple and when he suckled her, she lost any words she might have had beyondplease, more, God, andfuck yes. When he pulled back this time, her eyelids fluttered open and she saw him raise the glass of scotch. She knew what was coming before she felt the icy drip of condensation sliding over the tip of her nipple.
Still distended from the demands of his mouth, the rosy peak pebbled tight at the touch of cold water. While she watched, still gripping the arms of the chair like her life depended on it, he teased her, chasing the water droplets around her nipples and letting them run down the front of her body to pool in the soft dip of her belly. He didn’t seem in any hurry, his focus on the drop of water caught between the edge of his glass and her pebbled flesh, and she couldn’t catch her breath from wanting him so much.
Her hips moved on their own, pressing toward him, but he kept his body just out of reach. Without moving her leg from the arm of the chair or letting go with her hands, she couldn’t get him to touch her where she needed him most. She was so close. A brush of his fingers over her clit would be enough to send her over the edge, but it was obvious from the way he was teasing her, he had no intention of doing anything before he was good and ready.
Bending, he drew her nipple into the heat of his mouth, suckling her so hard her clit throbbed in time with pull of his mouth. By the time he repeated the process with her other nipple, she was gasping for breath, fighting to keep from begging him to touch her the way she needed.
Setting the drink beside him on the floor, he leaned back and ran the belt between his hands.
Her mouth went dry and the urge to close her legs was almost more than she could resist. She sucked in a breath and counted the exhale to keep from squirming, never letting her gaze leave Luke or the belt in his hands. He wouldn’t hurt her, and she believed he’d stop if she asked him to. She knew he hadn’t bound her so she’d feel safer about that.
Even as she acknowledged his concession to her comfort, a part of her remembered the time she’d begged him to stop and he hadn’t. The memory didn’t feel as raw as it had, but it was still there. Maybe trusting him this time would be another step toward diminishing the power of that night and rebuilding what had once come so easily to her where he was concerned.
He held her gaze and slowly started to drag the belt from her collar bone down the center of her chest to her belly. Keeping the soft leather flat on her skin, he repeated the process, and she watched as her skin pebbled in the wake of his touch.
He stroked down the center of her body, then around the sides of her breasts and finally trailed the wide band of leather over the tight peaks of her nipples. The touch on her skin was soft and gentle, but the flex of his arm and the implied power in the belt combined with the anticipation of what might or might not come next kept her on edge. Her stomach dipped and her breath hitched as she watched his every move, totally focused on the feel of the leather on her skin.
Trailing the belt down her body and over her thighs, he looked down to the path the band was taking. Her gaze followed his, and she watched, barely breathing, as he moved the leather over the tender skin of her inner thigh, inching closer to her sex. With achingly slow strokes, he drew the belt through the dark curls at the top of her mound and she remembered his comment about waxing. How much more sensitive would her skin be if she did? How much more could she take?
The belt barely grazed the edge of her clit before he trailed the leather down the inside of her other thigh. She let out the breath she’d been holding, certain he’d never stop teasing her. Before she could ask him for more, he shortened his grip on the belt so only a few inches of leather hung free. As she watched, he pulled his hand back and then brought the tail of the belt down on the tender skin of her inner thigh.
It wasn’t hard enough to make a snap or even sting, and she could see by the set of his jaw and the determination in his eyes how tight he was holding onto his control. He worked the belt up her thigh, the soft taps getting closer and closer to her exposed sex. Her flesh bloomed in the wake of the touch of the leather. She felt hot, achy and desperate for more with no room for any thought beyond where the belt would land next.
Closer and closer to where she needed him, she watched the leather creep up her thigh until he raised his hand and brought the belt down at the apex of her thigh, right on the soft skin at the crease where her leg joined her body. The touch of the belt was harder, almost but not quite a snap. It shocked the hell out of her, but she wanted more. She was ready for more. It was like sitting in a bath tub, getting used to the hot water, and then needing it even hotter once her body had adjusted.
“Luke,” she said, waiting for him to meet her gaze, knowing he’d want to hear her say the words out loud. “I want more.”
He nodded, his nostrils flaring and his jaw tight, and she wondered how tightly he must be holding onto his own desire to make sure she got what she needed. And then the belt came down with a soft snap on the dark curls at the top of her mound and she stopped wondering about anything. The feel of the leather so close to where she needed it had her tipping her hips toward him in offering. Again he brought the soft tail of the belt down, this time brushing the edge of her swollen clit.
“God, fuck, yes,” she whispered, lost in the anticipation and the gentle snap of the leather against her most sensitive flesh.
With fierce determination etched on his face, he brought the end of the belt down square on her clit. Her pussy clenched, and before she had a chance to register the slight sting, his mouth covered her. His tongue lapped at her clit, winding her desire into a tight coil before sliding through her exposed folds. He dipped into her swollen opening, and she lost the ability to think. When he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, she lost her mind.
He’d abandoned the belt, gripping her hips with both hands and using his thumbs to spread her open for the delicious torture of his mouth. In moments, the orgasm barreled down on her and her body shook with the force of her pleasure.
Luke kissed her sex one last time, tasting her before straightening to his knees between her legs. Through hooded eyes gone soft with pleasure, she watched him reach for his pants, sure he was finally going to fuck her. Instead of reaching for the button that would free his cock, he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small box. She straightened a little, trying to get a better look at what he held.
“Claire English.” She saw the ring box and her throat felt like it closed with the remnants of the pleasure he’d given her and the emotions barreling through her. “Will you marry me?” He flipped open the box revealing a band of round white diamonds.
He was watching her. She had to say something. Taking a deep breath, she forced the air out of her lungs.
“I can’t.”
