“Lie back,” he tells me, and I shiver from the sound of his voice, so throaty, husky, and extra commanding in the dark.
I lie back and feel his hand slip under my head, pulling the pillow down so I’m more comfortable. Then I feel him step away from me, and hear the sound of him rummaging. The snap of a container opening.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, my pulse starting to dance.
“Something I’ve fantasized about,” he says.
Fantasies? Yes, please.
“Let’s have it,” I tell him.
“Just relax. Don’t move. Don’t talk. I’m going to do some pretty messy things to you.”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
“Starting with these fantastic tits of yours,” he says, nearly growling. I hear his hands slap together and then he climbs on top of me, his strong, warm legs on either side of my waist.
I think I have an idea where this is going.
I suck in my breath, my body tensed and waiting for his next move.
His hands slide slickly down the middle of my chest and outward across each breast. The faint smell of mint sneaks in and I know he’s rubbed me over with lube. Normally I don’t need the stuff, but, well, you can’t really take it up the ass without it.
Though at the moment, it’s my tits that are getting all oiled up. He spreads it on as if he’s rubbing it into my skin, giving me a massage, only it’s not relaxing in the slightest. The slick press of his fingers ignite my nerves, the heat building with each stroke. His tongue teases at one of my nipples, already stiff and begging for it.
My moan gets caught in my throat and I writhe under him, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer.
“I said don’t move,” he commands, and I immediately drop my hand down to my side. Sheesh. Bossy.
He takes my nipple in his teeth and tugs. It’s just the slightest bit painful, but more than that, it causes a shower of electricity to hum out from my limbs.
“Fuck,” I say breathlessly.
He pauses. “I said don’t talk. I’ll stop what I’m doing right now if you do.”
I can’t tell he means business but being quiet has never been my strong suit. I press my lips together in exaggeration until I feel his mouth back on my nipples again, licking and sucking while I swell between my legs, so very desperate, so very unable to do anything about it.
This is torture. Beautiful, sweet torture.
With the mask on, with my nerves fighting against the silence, against my body’s natural urge to move, to touch him, to writhe and beg, my world is burning, on fire, and I’ll just be ashes in the end.
His head goes lower, licking down the center of my stomach until he gets between my legs. I know he’s enjoying the torture, murmuring against me as he kisses down the V of my hipbones, then as he slides his long, wet tongue where my legs and pelvis meet. The skin there is so sensitive I nearly cry out as he gently laps at it, teasing up the sides, coming close to my clit and then backing away.
“Please,” I can’t help but moan. Suddenly he smacks the side of my thigh. Hard.
“This is your last warning,” he says. God, his brogue, his gravely voice, he’s beyond hot when he’s domineering. He would be a pretty good Dom because he’s so good at the pain and torture. Only it’s not what he does to me but what he doesn’t do. He has me wanting him so badly I can barely breathe.
Finally his tongue snakes along my clit and I suck in a sharp breath, trying to compose myself. I’m seconds from coming and he knows this. He works me fast, his tongue flicking rapidly and so hard as I swell beneath him, the pressure in my core building and building in hot hot heat.