“Mm-hmm. Yup. Feels good.” My words are rough, my nerve endings firing.
“I thought you might like it.”
When she nips again, I have to adjust my hardening dick.
Fuck. This woman. She’s giving me a run for my money. Just as I’m about to suggest we call the game, she stops and straightens.
“Your turn,” she says evenly, as if she wasn’t just making me see stars. As if my nipple was not just wedged between her teeth like a midnight snack.
My chest is wet with her saliva, my breathing ragged, yet her sole focus is set on the wooden blocks.
The stack has seen better days, but I manage to snag a piece free, and when I read the directions, I scoff. “Of course.”
She leans into me. “What’s it say?”
Dipping my head, I plant a quick kiss against her neck. Voice low, I breathe, “Restrain me and do what you want.”
Her thick swallow can be heard from here.
Claire has kept up thus far, but by the uncertainty in her expression, this might be too extreme for her.
Dropping the block to the table, I say, “I can pick another?—”
“Where?”
“Where, what?” I ask.
“Where should I restrain you?” That uncertainty has morphed completely. Now her pupils are blown wide as she licks her lips.
Flying to my feet, I yank her up. “My bedroom.Now.”
She tosses back the last of her wine and follows me down the hall silently.
The moment my bedroom door is shut and locked, my lips are on hers. An instant later, my pants and underwear are on the ground. Did I remove them or did she? I don’t even fucking know. Or care.
Still connected by our kiss, I back up until I bump into the mattress, then break the connection.
“Strip for me,” I command, then draw the duvet and sheet down and situate myself in the middle of the mattress. By the time I’m settled, my cock is nearly fully hard and on proud display.
Claire stares at it, then swallows thickly. “That’s not what the block said.”
“I know. But strip for me anyway.” Stroking my aching cock, I add, “It’s lonely being the only one naked.”
“Oh, is it?” She covers her face with her hands and mumbles words I can’t make out.
“What’s that?”
Dropping her hands, she admits, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
For a second I’m back to being worried I’ve pushed her too far, but then she drops her hands, and the impish grin that spreads across her face reveals she’s up for the challenge.
The way she’s working her pants down her hips is another sign.
“Slow it down, Doc.”
She steps out of her leggings, then peels her shirt up her body, slowly unveiling her sun-kissed skin.
“Thatta girl,” I praise. “Look at you, being such a good listener for me.”
