How is it the person I most want to be close to is a serial killer?
“Shh, I’m here,” he says. “I’m going to take care of you.” Even his voice invites me to fall in. To trust.
I close my eyes and make myself imagine the crime scene in front of my apartment. The dead body curled up without any blood around him because he had been transported but with plenty of stab wounds in his chest. “You killed him.”
“He touched you, little bird. No one touches what’s mine.”
“So you think I’m yours.”
“Aren’t you?” His hair brushes my cheek. His lips are right at my ear. If I turned my head, I could find his lips with mine. “Will you let yourself go, let yourself be mine? Just for tonight?”
It’s too late. I can’t walk away.
I let my head fall forward and bob the tiniest nod.
His sudden exhale tells me my surrender wasn’t a totally foregone conclusion. There’s a slight tremor in his body. He needs me as much as I need him.
“Good girl.” He puts pressure on my chest, easing me back into the crook of his strong arm. I’m sitting sideways across his lap, with my dress half opened, exposing me to him. He skates his hand down my front, easing over my bare breasts and settling on my belly. My nipples pucker, begging to be touched. Almost as soon as he sees them, he darts his head down to swirl his tongue around one, then the other. My head falls back. I feel each sensation in my core. My hips jerk, calling his attention lower.
He presses his palm on my lower belly. “Easy. I’ve got you.” He bends his head again to murmur against my breast. “I’m going to give you everything you need.”
He tips me backward, laying me out. He lifts me, whipping the dress away and lowering me back down. His big body is a perfect frame, and I’m the pliant plaything he can move any way he wants.
With one arm braced behind my back and his free hand on my belly, he licks and sucks at my breasts. Each strong pull of his mouth sends a surge of need between my legs. I rock my hips, trying to relieve the building pressure. His hand on my abs skates lower until he can grind his palm into the top of my sex.
Now he’s over me, dark hair falling into his eyes. He probes my pussy, spreading my lower lips open. He pauses, staring at the flower of my sex he’s forced open. I want to squirm, but he’s holding me tight.
And then, he dips his head and licks me. I shout, arching upward. He shifts his weight so I’m pinned under him, my thighs splayed on either side of his broad shoulders, my sex hidden by his bowed head.
His left hand squeezes my breast while his right strokes deep into the grooves around my entrance, stimulating and splaying it so his tongue can find my clit. He teases me with the pointed tip, finding every itchy, needy spot. I stop trying to curl into a ball and dig my heels into the couch and his side, pushing upward so he can feast.
He takes his time, teasing the aroused flesh until my orgasm is one heartbeat away but backing off to let the sensations subside. He does it again and again until I’m a writhing mess under him. I go to grab his head, and he captures my wrists with laughable ease, shackling them in his strong grip.
The contradiction of his strength and the gentle tip of his tongue makes lights flash behind my eyes. He starts to raise his head, and I surge upwards, my body begging for him.
“Please.” I shudder. “Please.”
“As you wish.” And he thrusts his fingers inside me.
Lightning slices through me. My muscles clamp on his fingers as if they could draw them in deeper. He moves them slightly, stimulating me. His gaze is intent on my face, noting every twitch, every gasp. I turn my head. The pulses slow and die away, and finally, I can breathe again.
“That’s one,” he says and licks his fingers. Tasting me. My sex clenches at the sight.
He looks so elegant in his dark suit. He’s still fully clothed, not a cuff link out of place, and I’m naked.
I push up, propping myself on my elbows in an attempt to get a hold of myself. Get away.
“No.” He moves faster than I can follow and pins my wrists over my head. “We’re not done.” I thrash, testing his limits, and his grip tightens. “I’m going to tie you down. Test every implement. I know you love the vibrator, but what about nipple clamps?”
I whimper.
“Do you want that?” His voice holds dark promise. “Do you need it? Think of the questions you can ask.”
Right. The questions. I’d forgotten about my whole reason for being here.
“Why are you doing this?”
“This?” He runs his free hand down my well-plundered body. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re absolutely exquisite.”
