‘Don’t,’ I answer quickly.
He turns back, one eyebrow raised and daring me for an answer.
‘Don’t go. I promise I’ve made it clear to him. Stay, please. Stay because I am yours.’ I place my hands on his chest and they rise and fall with each of his breaths.
He covers them with his own as he tells me, ‘Then I stay on my terms.’
His fingertips caress my jaw, brush down my neck and come to rest at the zipper between my breasts. As his eyes follow its descent, they darken as my bareness is revealed.
‘Inti hilwa... you’re beautiful.’ Pushing the jacket from my shoulders, I begin to wriggle free from the sleeves, starting reflexively as his hands cup my breasts.
‘Perfect,’ he murmurs, the mattress dipping as he lowers himself, pushing me backwards and onto my elbows. With every brush of his fingers, fire rises through my veins. ‘You make me ache,’ he whispers against my mouth, ‘make me mad.’ Kissing and tasting my jaw and neck, the momentum of his body pushes me flat against the bed. ‘I want to be inside you. Over you, feed you breath from my mouth.’ Kisses pave my torso, his fingers drawing down my sides to the elastic of my shorts. I raise my head as he laughs softly against the fabric. ‘Well hello, ducky,’ he drawls in a comically interested tone.
I giggle at the change in tenor, his response to the cartoon print. My giggle trails off quite suddenly, my legs twitching as he runs his nose down the front seam, inhaling deeply.
‘God, I could drown in you.’
My laughter evolves into a throaty moan, hunger rippling through my insides.
Standing, he pulls off my uggs, throwing them over his shoulder with a look of disdain. As they thud against the wall, his fingers hook into my waistband, the material pulled down my legs in one swift motion, my hips jerking from the bed. Lying naked, but for a pair of stripy socks, his gaze passes over me, an inkblot of black swimming in heat.
Resting the flat of his palms against my knees, he spreads me, whispering that he knows what I need. That I should bare myself to him. That I’m so ripe, so ready. Reaching out, his fingers part and slide against me as he kneels on the floor between my legs.
‘So sweet, kitten,’ he whispers, eyes fixed. ‘I don’t know whether I want to come here first or in your pretty, pink mouth.’
I exhale a tremulous moan, his words both a shock and a thrill. His tongue then follows the path of his fingers, pushing inside.Fucking me.
My hips rise from the bed, hands grasping his hair as he begins licking me with long, strong strokes. The sensation is so enormous—his words and his touch—I struggle under him as his hands tighten on my thighs. It’s too much, I can’t take it and yet, I want more.
I whimper under the intensity, the vibrations electrifying as he pushes two fingers deeply inside. Drawing his tongue higher, circling, my body literally bows from the bed as, with relief, he sucks on my swollen clit.
‘Tell me what you want,’ he murmurs thickly, licking and kissing as I writhe helpless beneath him. My hands still twisted in his glorious hair, I’m unable to form the words. I pull at his body, trying to move him above me—I need him inside—but he resists. ‘I want to hear you tell me where you need me most.’ His fingers continue their dance, his words a warm breath over my exposed flesh. ‘Tell me.’
‘Don’t make me beg,’ I whimper.Come on, actions speak louder than words.‘You know what I want.’
‘It’s a shame greedy girls only get what they need.’
His conceited tone goes unregistered for a beat as I’m driven so close to my peak.
But then I groan in frustration as he stands, wrapping my legs around him, fruitlessly. Rising in my elbows, I watch him through narrowed eyes as he loosens his tie and begins to fold up his sleeves.
Like he’s serious.
Like he means business.
Like he’s ready to give me what I need.
Suddenly and inexplicably—they are, after all, only forearms—my stomach somersaults. His fingers touch my hips, motioning me to roll onto my front and I do, eyes closed and smiling, hanging onto the feeling mounting inside.
He grasps my ankles, sliding my body down the bed and kneeling behind me on the floor. One knee between mine, he pushes my own further apart as he entwines our fingers together, gently drawing them down from the bed. I smile into the covers, reminded of making sand angels at the beach, thinking I must look the same as he pulls my hands to the base of my spine.
‘In the surrender to silk there is freedom.’ His voice is low and throaty as he leans over, plucking a scarf from several looped over the end of my bed. My heart rate spikes with excitement, definitely not nerves, as he wraps the silken length around my wrists. ‘In your anticipation of pain there is joy.’
It’s impossible to know what he means. I don’t even consider responding before hearing my teasing words in the air.
‘I think you’ve got that the wrong way around.’ Surely in the anticipation of joy there’s a little pain, at least for me. I’m not the most patient person. I lay my cheek against the mattress in preparing myself for what’s to come.
Experience tells me it’s going to be me.
