I have a feeling I know which one’s coming. In a flash, I shed my clothes, leaving on my white lace bra and panties.
I settle onto the bed on my back, as he prowls over to me. He’s wearing jeans and nothing else. My mouth waters at the sight of him—broad chest, thick shoulders, carved abs, and all that ink on his muscular arm. The symbols of who he is, what he believes in. As he returns to the table, picking up the ribbon, he regards me with wild heat in his dark eyes. Passion, too, as he returns to me, his gaze journeying up and down me. He dangles the pink ribbon over mychest, the soft end of it teasing against my left breast, tickling me. “Still want to skip foreplay?”
The rush of heat shooting down my body makes me a liar as I arch into the ribbon’s touch. “No.”
He stands by the side of the bed, teasing the ribbon down my body, between my breasts, over my belly. It’s soft, and I shudder as he drags it over me, like it’s a feather.
And yes, apparently I’m into flower ticklers, headband bondage, and now ribbon play. Who knew? Maybe Banks did. Maybe he sensed this about me all along. I stretch my neck, a sign for him to keep going. He takes my cue and runs with it, dangling the silky material over me, then coasting the end down my arm. I’m aching. He’s not even touching me with his body, not his hands, not his mouth, not his cock, and still my skin is tingling, my thighs shaking.
He continues his erotic torture, unfurling the ribbon down my body, over my legs, then back up, along the inside of my thighs. I part my legs for him.
He stares wantonly at my white panties. “You look so fucking beautiful,” he says, and he sounds filthy and adoring.
He drops the ribbon and bends to run his knuckles along the side of my face, tracing my jawline.
Funny how I thought I’d come back to the cottage and demand a spanking, like I wanted the night I met him, but when he showed me the table of toys, I wanted that more.
Because of how he uses whatever sex toys he MacGyvers—he uses them to turn me on. That’s his sole mission—me. And withBanks, I’m learning I don’t have to solve a thing. I get to fix…nothing. I don’t have to think at all, and I like not having a to-do list.
Or perhaps I like that I’m his to-do list.
Banks takes each item on it very seriously, leaning down and starting with tugging down the cup of the bra on my right breast. Giving me a kiss on my nipple. Then sucking.
I draw a sharp breath.
Next, he bites.
I gasp.
He lifts his face, raises an eyebrow. Asking if that was okay.
“Yes,” I murmur.
He rubs his chin against my exposed breast, the stubble from his short beard whisking across my skin. He’s sandpaper to my softness, and the contrast makes me squirm. Makes me want him. I reach for his chest, my fingers playing with the wiry hair on his pecs.
A grunt falls from his lips. He looks up, and in a flash he’s on the bed, straddling me, pinning my wrists down. “You trying to touch me?” he asks, but it’s not aggressive. It’s curious. Playful. Like he always is with me.
“I am,” I admit.
He lifts his chin. “You can touch me when I fuck you.”
I shiver. From ribbons to words. “Now you’re really teasing me.”
He smirks. “I know.”
I exhale into the good feelings, then relax into the bed when he lets go of my wrists, expecting Banks to travel down my body. Instead he moves to the side, lying next to me, kissing my neck. My clavicle. My shoulder.
I shudder, luxuriating in him.
He dusts a soft kiss to the top of my arm, then spends a good, long time kissing his way down, turning me soft and liquid everywhere as I realize what he’s doing. He’s kissing each bird on my skin.
As the strength of that hits me, I turn to him, our chests flush, and kiss his mouth—hard, deep, and passionate. We kiss till we’re twisting together, our bodies seeking even more contact.
With some reluctance, he breaks the embrace, then pushes me down to my back. Moving along my body, his lips whisk over each breast, travel down my belly, then to my hips.
I’m gasping and arching, desperately hoping he gets the message, when he looks up at me with a satisfied smirk. “Ask for it.”
I’m too turned on to taunt him back. “Go down on me,” I plead.
