The bed shifts as his weight settles on it, then something soft slides over my head. I tense, freezing, opening my eyes in time for a blindfold to cover them.
“Why?” I ask.
“So you can feel.”
“I’m already feeling,” I mutter.Vulnerable. Exposed. Aroused. Helpless.
“Hellcat?”
“Yes?”
“Be quiet.”
I go silent, lying there on his bed, knowing he’s looking at me. But not touching me. I thought he would by now, but he hasn’t. Seconds become minutes, and I can’t help but squirm, wondering what I’m supposed to do, or not do. I’m half anticipating him, half dreading the moment he begins the next round of punishment. I don’t even know what he’s planning, only that I can’t stop him, whatever it is.
Declan’s fingers brush my flank, and I jump at the sudden contact. My body feels alive, and he’s barely touched me.
His hand caresses across my abdomen, toys with my hip, drifts down to my thigh, stroking inside. He doesn’t touch my pussy, but trails back up again, following the line of my tattoo around my breast. Like he’s painting me with his fingers, every movement slow and deliberate, the pressure so light it’s hardlythere. Yet I still feel all of it, my skin tingling.
He places a kiss on my stomach, licking softly as he does. So gentle, and not what I expected. Then he pulls away, and the next kiss is on my shoulder, above my breast. I want him to kiss lower. His fingers brush my cheek, run down over my lips, and my chin comes up by itself, searching for more. He continues down to my throat, pausing on the hollow, circling with a feathery caress. Like he’s marking me, playing with the part of me that is animalistic in its vulnerability. Predator and prey, while I’m bound and blindfolded.
I can’t help my shudder, but it’s not fear. It’s submission. And I know that’s exactly what he wants.
At last, his mouth finds my breast. My whole body is humming, the blindfold and the anticipation making every sensation more intense. He sucks the flesh of my breast deep into his mouth, not even touching my nipple, and I can’t help the moan that escapes. The suction is half sensual, half uncomfortable, not quite enough to be an ache, but the blood rushes to my nipple. And then, deep inside his mouth, his tongue rubs across it.
I jerk against the ropes, back arching, a cry slipping out. All that, from just one lick.
A single fingertip trails between my labia, glancing over my clit, and my hips lift.
“Declan…”
His mouth leaves my breast. “Be quiet, or I’ll gag you, too.”
I whimper in response.
Fingers skim down my thigh, caressing beneathmy knee. He places a kiss on my armpit, sucking at the soft, sensitive skin. Then another on my hip, licking across the bone. Something brushes my mouth, and I’m too slow to react before it’s gone. He teases me with touch after touch, different areas every time. Rarely on my breasts or my sex, though when he does, it’s electric. I know I’m wet, but he hasn’t commented. He’s barely said anything for a while.
How long has it been?
Is this my punishment? Forced to endure as he plays with me?
It sucks. It’s wonderful. It’s torture. I want more.
I lift my hips to him, begging silently, and in response, I feel the bed shift as he climbs off.
Is he going to leave me now? Aroused and pleading?
Sadistic. Asshole.
The bed dips again, and this time he’s between my legs. I feel his breath on my open sex, and almost sob with the anticipation of it, even as I pull at the ropes, trying to draw my ankles together.
He lays his hands on my thighs. “You can’t stop me, Hellcat.” He sounds almost smug.
I shudder at his words, knowing they’re true. The heat in his implicit promise is enough to scorch, but I’m still unsure. What if he doesn’t like the way I taste? What if I’m too wet?
Declan breathes on me, then draws in a deep breath, letting it out in a long, slow sigh. “Fuck, you smell delicious.”
His tongue presses flat to my folds, then he licksslow, taking his sweet time, making a soft noise low in his throat. The vibrations carry just enough to tingle, and my whole body is so alive to him, it’s exquisite agony. I cry out, unable to stop myself, hips rising off the bed, pressing up to him. I’ve never been so turned on in my life, and he’s hardly touched me where I want him to. Everywhere else, yes… like he was deliberately avoiding my breasts, my sex. My body is covered in the memory of his fingers, and I swear he’s mapped every inch of my skin.
