He takes his time.
Every kiss, every flick of his tongue is maddening. He works his way over my stomach, then back up again—teasing, tasting, never in a hurry. I’m squirming, panting, held wide open and totally at his mercy.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You taste like sunshine and sin. I could do this all night.”
I whimper. “Please. I need more. I can’t wait that long.”
“Tell me,” he says, lips brushing the underside of my breast, “how sensitive are these nipples of yours?”
“Very,” I breathe.
“Good.” I can see his cocky grin in my mind’s eye.
There’s the sound of him retrieving something—then cool metal brushing against my skin.
He gives one nipple a firm tug, rolling it between his fingers until I’m moaning.
Then—click—the clamp goes on.
I cry out. Pleasure spears through me like lightning.
The second one follows, and I swear my brain short-circuits.
I tug at the restraints, arching my back, a helpless, desperate sound escaping my throat.
“You gonna come just from that?” he chuckles darkly, brushing a knuckle along my trembling inner thigh. “Damn, you really are a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”
God.
The words hit just as hard as the clamps.
I am. I’m a mess. Wet, aching, writhing.
And all he’s done istalkto me. Kiss me. Mark me with these toys.
I never knew I liked this—being owned, devoured, talked down to in just the right way. But with him?
I crave it.
“You like that?” he asks, voice low and wicked. “Being used? Being told how needy you are for me?”
I nod frantically, barely able to form words. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
His mouth is suddenly at my ear again, his palm firm between my thighs.
“Then,” he whispers, fingers ghosting closer to where I’m soaked and pulsing. “You’re in for the fucking night of your life.”
Something in my chest flips. I’m half panicked, half in wild anticipation.
His mouth trails lower, bypassing my nipples which are still pinched tight in the clamps. He blazes a path down my stomach, slow and claiming.
I can feel him settling between my legs, spreading me wider. His hands grip my thighs like they belong to him, and I’m too far gone to care.
Then he lets out a hot breath.
And I feel a single, devastating lick.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, head falling back. The blindfold makes it worse—better—everything.
