‘Why?’ Did he notice me raise my chin a fraction more?
‘Because I want to hear my name on your lips.’
His mouth, those words, lick right between my legs. I close my eyes, struggling with my feelings and the dynamic, and for reasons I don’t understand, I revert to type. And sarcasm.
‘And to what do I owe this... pleasure, Daniel?’ Will this attitude level the playing field? Hide my crumbling self-control around him?
‘The reason for my invitation?’ he repeats, one brow curled in question. ‘Unfinished or extended business. And let’s be honest, your being here proves the pleasure wasn’t only mine.’
He leans towards me, and I meet him halfway, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. Our kisses are hot and heavy, fingers urgent, fumbling, and grasping. He moans into my mouth, and I feel it everywhere. My hands fall to his belt, grasping the fastening. I need his cock in my hand. In my mouth. Inside me. In my haste, it takes me a moment to realise his hands cover mine.
Our mouths separate as he pulls them to my sides, and as his eyes slowly rise, his intentions are written in a measured smile.
Slowly, so slowly, he begins to peel me from my clothes. His attentions are so thorough and his words so sweet as he slides the jacket from my arms, kissing my cheek.
‘Your skin is like silk,’ he whispers, sealing his lips over my collarbone, popping the button of my jeans. ‘You taste like honey.’
Lifting my arms around his neck, he sucks on my bottom lip as he glides them over my hips. ‘And your cunt is heavenly.’
I barely notice the items dropping to the floor. Until I do. Standing in the warm kitchen in just my underwear and white tank, I shiver. But not because I’m cold. I feel exposed. Sort of dirty next to him and his clothed self. And wired, so wired. More so as he looks at me. Just looks. His gaze appraising and making me feel like just a... a thing. His thing.
I feel all those things along with the unravelling pulse between my legs.
I grab for his belt again, but he lifts my hands away with a low laugh.
‘My rules, you remember?’
His rules suck.
Of course, I remember, but that was then, not now. Why strip me half naked in his kitchen to remind me he likes to be in charge? Now is the time for action, not games.
Never in my life have I felt so desperate; doesn’t he understand?
Very deliberately, he lowers my hands to my sides, and my heart misfires as his fingers then lift to his black leather belt. In the silence of the room, the buckle clinks open. I want not to watch. I don’t want to be so effected. I feel I ought to look away—to not play these games—as he pulls slowly on the zipper.To tantalise.But watch I do—my panties are wet and sticking to me, my chest moving in heavy breaths—as he lifts his cock, swollen and thick, free of the seams. It looks at home there, the weight of it in his palm. The feeling of skin on skin.
‘Kiss it.’ His voice is soft and low and so tempting. ‘Lick it. I want you to make it...wet.’
Not a command nor an instruction but compelling enough to make me fall to my knees against the hard flagstone floor. Moving his untucked shirt, I push the sides of his trousers wider when he tilts my chin. His eyes roam over my face, dark and tense as I stare up at him. I’m not sure what he hopes to see, but then rests his hand on my head like a gentle benediction. Like he’s granting permission. And like a good girl, I do as I’m bid, bending forward and kissing his silky tip.
Dan sighs softly as I slide my mouth down his length, pausing only to look up at his face. His expression is exquisite, a mixture of suspense and agony, of awe, and as I take him deeper, he exhales a rasping gasp.
In my mouth, he’s satin, steel, and musk, and in my ears, he’s intense. He tells me how I whisper to him as he stirs from sleep. How he can’t stop thinking of me during the day. Of how he’d touched himself in the shower this afternoon, thinking of me. Wanked, he says, the coarseness of the word rushing through me like the blood in my veins, my brain spilling over with his pornographic montage.One hand on the glass, the other working himself, my name on his lips as he comes.
His hand strokes my hair as he speaks, his words now low and hoarse, driving me to move faster. Further. Pushes himself further into my mouth. Makes me wet. Needy. Makes my mouth sloppy. Makes me want to touch myself as he whispers breathless words about the gold of my skin and the velvet of my cunt. As he growls that I’m cock hungry for him.
His hands tight in my hair, I moan as he begins to move himself, sliding deeper as though he can’t stop. As he grazes the back of my throat, my gag reflex reacts, my eyes smarting and leaking as I pull away and look up at him. His wet cock still in my hand, my chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.
‘For me,’ he whispers.
And when he asks so beautifully, what else can I do? Mascara stings my eyes as I bend forward, allowing him to lay his steady hand on the back of my head, my insides pulsing and twisting as he tangles his fingers in my hair.
I’ve known women like you, reluctant and full of denial. Until someone holds fistfuls of their hair.
God, he was right.
‘Take it all.’
And I try. Oh, do I.
