He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t speak again, though I’m aware of the sound of his breathing as I focus on the hand in front of me. Long, elegant fingers. Strong wrists. For a fleeting moment, I imagine the veins in that beautiful hand strained and standing to attention, his hand wrapping around my throat. Inching forward, I lick the very tip of his thumb, sliding my hand to almost circle his wrist. Wriggling a little for leeway, I pull on it, bringing it between the table and my chest.
‘I won’t be manipulated,’ Dan says, though he offers no resistance.
‘Bear with me, please,’ I whisper, pushing to a stand.
His body moves with mine, one hand still pressed flat against the table. The hand I hold captive, I cover with my own, slipping both down my body as I widen my stance. His breath hitches as his fingers brush the triangle of white lace between my legs. His hand curls instinctively to cup, but he doesn’t move an inch more, maybe waiting for me to make my point.
I wriggle a little against him, one part discomfort from what I’m about to admit, and one part needing to feel his touch again.
‘Be my marionette,’ I whisper. ‘For just a minute, let me lead.’ I slide our hands under the waistband of my panties. ‘My underwear choice may have been more conscious than I care to admit. Or maybe I was just trying to hide this.’
As his fingers meet my bare skin, they curl in a caress.
‘Bear with you because you’re... bare.’ A low cavernous laugh rumbles against my back.
‘Maybe,’ I say, trying to bite back a giggle. On a whim, or so I’d told myself, I’d made a waxing appointment. But it seems to appeal. Truthfully, to more than just him. ‘Do you think I’m trying to disguise the wickedness within?’
‘I should say more like match the inside to the outer.’
His finger rubs against the newly waxed skin, satin soft. It’s just the most delicious of feelings—I can barely think. Drowning in a sea of silk, of sensation, I moan a low sound.
The finger stops its teasing, dipping between my smooth, wet lips. And my knees almost give way as he whispers into my neck, ‘Turn around. Let me see.’
As I do, he slides my panties over my hips and down my legs, his body following suit. Sunk into a low squat, his eyes are hot on my skin.
‘Sweetheart,’ he murmurs, his breath a caress on the space between my legs. ‘Get your arse up on that table. Let me see if this tastes as pretty as it looks.’
Chapter Four
LOUISE
‘Beautiful.’
His words hold a reverence I’m not used to as his hot breath blows over my skin. With my butt cheeks parked against the edge of the table, I want to be bold—to spread myself out for him—but I just can’t seem to find the courage. I shouldn’t have worried as, hands on my knees, he presses them wider.
‘No need to hide.’ My thoughts scatter as his warm tongue licks along my inner thigh. ‘Sit back. That’s it,’ he murmurs as I move myself more solidly against the wood.
‘Daniel,’ I start nervously. My fingers grip the table edge tight as he lifts my legs wider again.
‘I like it when you say my name.’ His gaze travels up my body. ‘Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got you. You can fall on my watch.’
My thoughts scatter, robbing me of sense. Is it his endearment, or the way he looks at me as though I’m edible? Whatever the reason, I find fingers uncurling as I lean back. Allowing myself to be positioned, I watch him, propped against the table on my forearms.
Cool air and warm breath brush my bare skin, and I bite my lip to stop myself from moaning, my stomach muscles taut in anticipation of his lips. I want this—I can’t remember the last time I felt like level of need for anything. I don’t know—
Anything. I don’t know anything, my thoughts turning to dust at the swipe of his tongue, everything taut and aching from just one lick.
‘Don’t stop,’ I demand quickly. ‘Oh, God. Do that again.’
His response is a low rumble before he licks me once again. ‘You taste so sweet,’ he whispers, groaning as he kisses me as he would my mouth. I throw my head back, the vibration ricocheting through me like a blast. The long swipes of his tongue and the scratch of his stubble against my inner thigh, it’s not long before I’m writhing against him, begging for him to be inside.
‘Not yet. I haven’t finished tasting you yet.’
He bends around me, bringing the wine bottle he’d placed on the table after pouring us both a glass. My insides tense with nervous anticipation. The wine is chilled—what will that feel like when he pours it over me? But then he kisses me again, long and deep, his tongue working magic over my clit.
I cry out. Curse. I try not to ride his face—try to get a grip on this desperation. This throbbing need.
‘What did you think of the wine?’ His mouth pulls away from my pussy, his gaze tracking up my body, his mouth glistening and wet. The sight of him there, kneeling between my legs, his tongue flicking out to taste me from his lips, is obscene. I can’t look away, and my thoughts are like marbles, rolling about. He can’t really expect any sense.
