Standing behind her, he bent over, kissed her. “I’ll stop when you get close to coming.”
Tingles shot through her. “I love edging.”
He covered her eyes with a neck tie, kissed her again. Once, twice, then he moved away, leaving the air cold in his wake.
Anticipation had her senses at high alert. She tried calming her breathing, but she was too aroused. His, however, was slow and strong.
His fingers trailed down her neck, her chest, across a nipple, then past her abs to her pussy where he passed over her clit, caressing her thigh and her calf. On a growl, he licked and sucked her big toe. One-by-one, he sucked them all, while she squirmed with carnal delight.
He trailed his tongue up the inside of her thigh to her pussy, his warm breath making her moan. Everything was magnified by the blindfold and the ties binding her to the bed.
Submitting to him meant she was giving him control. A simple act of trust to show him he was forgiven. Would he know that?
He ran his tongue over her opening, around her clit, then nothing. He was still on the bed, but he wasn’t touching her.A surge of frustration had her arching up, desperate for more. Always more.
Then, his beautifully sculpted lips attached to her nipple, gently sucking and licking her tender flesh. Her moans filled the silence, while her clit throbbed with passion.
“Everything about you turns me on,” he murmured. “Every fucking thing.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I hated that about you,” he said.
He licked her other nipple, teased the first one with tender strokes of his thumb. Teasing and teasing until she couldn’t stop thrashing, begging him to relieve her suffering.
More than anything, she loved his personal brand of sexual torture.
He kissed her shoulder, nibbled her ear, bit the lobe. The sharp sting of pain made her whimper.
“Pain, pleasure?”
“Both,” she rasped.
He rolled her onto her side, slapped her ass. Another whimper. Then, he rolled her onto her back, raked his hands down the sides of her torso, igniting erogenous zones she didn’t know existed. Everywhere he touched—her elbow, the back of her knee—came alive, her skin tingling, her senses on high alert. His gritty growls slicked her pussy.
Every caress sent her to flying closer and closer to the sun, her body burning, her insides throbbing so hard, she needed to warn him away.
“I’m dying for you,” she whispered.
He stopped touching her and the thrumming eased. His absence left her with a heightened sense of expectation. Every second he wasn’t touching her was torture.
Sheer torture.
He opened a drawer. He ripped open a condom packet. Then, silence.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
She imagined him staring down at her, her naked body on full display. Then, he climbed on the bed, planked over her, but didn’t touch her. He brushed his lips to her ear. “I will love you forever.”
She melted.
He seared her with a passionate kiss and her need skyrocketed. When their kiss ended, he left a sensual trail of kisses down her body, until he stopped at her sex. He licked her opening, twirled his tongue around her clit, slid a finger inside her heat.
“Ohgod,” she groaned.
One, two, and three digits entered her, and she started gyrating on the bed again. Her insides roared to life, the lust returning with a whoosh of energy.
“So tight, like a virgin,” he rasped.
