My heart stutters in my chest.
A second later, his lips are on my skin and I have to bite back a moan. He leaves open-mouthed kisses across my shoulders, moving my hair over one shoulder to drape down my chest. As his mouth continues to lick and kiss my shoulders and upper back, my neck, his hands make their way to my front, and the moment he cups my breasts, gently, as if testing the weight of them, I moan loudly.
It’s aneedy, relief-filled moan, and though a small part of me is embarrassed by the sound, as soon as his hands flex on my breasts and his thumbs and forefingers close around my nipples, I can’t find it in me to care.
Chapter Thirty
Max
I know this makes me a masochist, and the lie of it all makes me a fucking bastard. Unforgivable andwrong. But I can’t stop myself. I need to touch her, taste her, kiss those fucking lips. My job is to provide whatever my submissive needs, and I take this part of my life extremely seriously. Whether pleasure, pain, punishment, or worship, I’m well-versed in the language of dominance and control. But Sutton Hart makes me forget everything, all the years of discipline and dedication.
I don’t just want to be her Dominant. I crave so much more, something so much deeper.
Iachewith need.
I’ve been close to my subs before—profound bonds are built through this experience, ties that naturally occur in such extreme relationships—but the desire to take as much as I give has never been as strong as it is with Sutton.
It’s taking everything in me to be a good Dominant when all I want to do is fuck her until we’re both senseless and sated, then spend the next forty years of our lives waking up beside her every goddamn day to do it again and again and again.
She has me. Mind, body… soul.
If she asked for my heart, I’d carve open my chest and give it to her on a silver fucking platter, beating and bloody andhers.
All of me,hers.
I’m careful to remain silent as I lick my way over the canvas of her skin, even though it takes effort to keep from moaning at every taste. My mouth explores while my hands map out the course, kneading and teasing, pinching and caressing. Shemoans and moves with me, arching her back when I lick across a ticklish place, or groaning when I nip at her skin.
I move toward the front, working my way up her legs, careful to keep my face downward as I work my way up. If she peeks, she’ll see a head of dark, nearly-black hair.
Maybe she’ll figure it out and call me on my lie.
But I fucking hope not.
Not yet.
Not when I still have so much to explore.
I kiss my way upward and her hands flex at her sides. I know she wants to touch me, to dig those fingers into my hair and drag my mouth where she wants it.
As I rise from a squatting position, I reach up and cup her throat, tilting her head back so she’s looking at the ceiling. It gives me more room to taste her tits without getting caught. I doubt she can see much of anything with the blindfold mask covering her eyes, but there’s always a chance she could catch a glimpse between her cheek and the fabric.
Or, perhaps, if she felt so inclined, she could rip the thing off completely and destroy this moment.
And any that might have followed.
So I keep her head tilted back, gripping her firmly as I close my mouth over her left breast. She moans, then her hands finally move. She reaches for me, dragging her fingers through my hair—
It’s too fucking much, finally being touched by her.
I moan around her breast, then pull it firmly into my mouth, sucking so hard I know the instant I draw a shock of pain to the tip of her nipple because she bucks forward.
Releasing her breast with apop, I move to the other, scraping my teeth over the soft flesh, then closing my mouth over her nipple.
This time I bite down, just enough to make her gasp.
The sound has a straight connection to my cock, and I have to adjust myself as the pressure of my jeans becomes too much. Returning my hand to her body, I reach around her and dig my fingers into her plump ass, massaging as I pull her closer.
She groans and I close my eyes.
