“Savored.” I finish her sentence for her.
Standing behind her, I drape my arms around her.
“Yes,” she breathes, latching onto my arm. “I’d like that for a change.”
“Then let me do that for you,” I say, more than willing to be what she needs, even if it’s just for the evening.
CHAPTER 6
SARINA
His lips linger near my neck as his eyes capture mine in the mirror’s reflection. “I have a question,” he whispers.
“Yes?” I practically pant as anticipation courses throughout my body.
“Where are we exactly?”
The mirrors surrounding us burn in my periphery as I think of how I want to answer, but I don’t want to get into any of the specifics right now. There’s no point. It’ll only delay what we both want to happen. So instead, I supply him with a vague response. “A room.”
His tongue clicks, seeming dissatisfied, but his movements don’t reflect that. Not as his lips skim my skin, teasingly.
The mix of proximity and the warm, earthy notes of his cologne casts raised bumps onto my skin as he speaks.
“I gathered that much. Just tell me, are we allowed to be in here?”
I shake my head yes. My ability to speak reduces to a faint hum, “mhm.”
“Good.”
My gaze lowers to the hemline of my dress, watching intently as his fingers curl around the fabric’s edge. I can tell he wants to lift it up and explore underneath but he’s holding back, exercising a level of restraint that is a turn on all in of itself.
“One more question for you.”
This man.
My god.
If this prolonged teasing didn’t feel like foreplay, I’d be halfway out the door already.
“What?” I whine. My impatience getting the better of me.
“Does anyone know we’re in here?”
“No. But I told you, we’re allowed to be in here.”
Expecting him to continue with this song and dance of questions, I brace myself for the next one. Though much to my surprise and to my relief, the questions end with him moving to the door to lock it.
I fall to my knees, and in silence, as he makes his way back to me, he drops to his, kneeling behind me. Eyes centered forward into the mirror, he asks, “How do you want me?”
Flutters invade my stomach. I’ve never been asked that before I’m about to hook up with someone.
It’s usually a cut right to the chase type interaction.
And with the men I’ve been with before it usually starts with me prepping them with head before sex. My wants and needs aren’t even a consideration beyond what will make them come.
“Don’t be shy,” he coaxes me, fingers ghosting over my shoulders, coming dangerously close to breaking contact, yet he doesn’t.
“I can say the same to you. It’s okay. You can touch me,” I breathe the invitation and he takes it with relief visibly softening his shoulders as he brushes both hands onto me.
