“When it comes to you, I’ve got rules too,” I say. “You can’t give me the look.”
“I can’t look at you?” She pulls back, but I shake my head.
“Back when we were together, you used to give me this look where reality stopped making sense. No one ever made me feel the way you did.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her eyes glimmer as she tries not to laugh and fails.
“Well, if you’re laughing at me, we’re not in danger of breaking rule number one.” A little disheartened, I continue. “Two. You can’t kiss me.”
I expect that to be the deal breaker. But she agrees. “Kissing lures you into a false sense of intimacy. If we kiss, we’ll lose control of this.”
“Good. Same page.” I extend my hand. She takes it. I pull her to her feet. Chest to chest, I can see every detail of her face. I guide her away from the couch and closer to the wall. I’ll need room for what I want to do.
My fingers brush down her neck, and with a quick motion, I shift the straps of her dress. No bra, just like I thought. Just her hard, pink nipples meeting the air. My mouth crashes onto her left breast, sucking hard while I cup and massage both of them. I squeeze them together, move from one nipple to the other, flicking with my tongue, tasting her.
“Oh God, yes,” she moans, head tipping back against the wall.
I’m drunk on the sounds she makes. I graze my teeth over her nipple, a light pinch, and she rewards me with another moan. Pain and pleasure. Got it. I switch sides, kneading and teasing until both nipples are red and aching. Her fingers tangle in my hair, holding me where she wants me. Then her nails scrape my scalp, sending heat straight through my veins.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the wall. Her confidence drains from her face, unsure of what she had done wrong.
This isn’t about my pleasure. “This is all for you.” I whisper it against her ear, kissing down her neck. She relaxes, understanding new rules of the game. She squirms, testing more than resisting. Then pouts and I want to bite that lip. I don’t.
I hold both her wrists in one hand while the other unzips the side of her dress and lets it fall to her hips. My fingers trail across her stomach, down to her hip, letting the dress drop to the carpet. She shudders as the last shred of warmth is shed.
My fingers explore as I stare at her face, her lips, her neck. I keep her gaze locked in mine as I glide my fingers up her warm inner thigh, skating over skin until I brush the cotton of her panties. A frustrated moan slips from her when I bypass her heat. Her parted lips, the rise and fall of her chest, all of it pushes me to the edge.
Then I glance down and freeze. I blink, processing. “Does your underwear have dogs wearing David Bowie costumes on them?”
Her eyes go wide. She tries to pull away, but I pin her harder. “Oh my God.” Teal panties. White boxer dogs in Ziggy Stardust makeup. “This is so embarrassing. I didn’t have time to go home and do a whole outfit change and?—”
“Shhh.” My heart somersaults. I don’t know why it’s so endearing, only that something shifts. I shake it off. Focus. “I want those puppies to drown in your excitement.”
I pull the fabric aside and touch her slick skin. She shivers. “So wet,” I groan. My fingertip slips inside while my palm presses against her. I circle her entrance slowly making her writhe, chasing relief. “Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes, please.” I release her wrists.
“Touch my face.” She cups my cheeks. I breathe her in, then drive my fingers deep. “Look at me.” I don’t break eye contact as I move inside her, my palm pressing, my finger searching. I add another, and she groans. The fabric pulls tight against her thigh, limiting me. I adjust, just a fraction.
“Yes,” she moans. I keep my eyes on hers. I need to see her come.
Her muscles tighten. Her breaths turn shallow and staccato. I pull my fingers out and shift her underwear back into place, rubbing her clit through the fabric. It’s what she wants, but not how she needs it.
She shudders. Not a full orgasm. A promise. I pull away, her heat still coating my fingers. I shouldn’t. I do anyway. Her taste blooms on my tongue as I suck my own finger. She watches me as I savor her.
“Go lie down on the couch,” I say, lower. My dom voice creeps in.
I watch her sway her hips as she struts across the room, while trying to form a plan. Something that will give her what she wants but leaves her needing more. Maybe if I do this right, she’ll let me do it again.
“Put your arms out. Across the back of the couch.”
She spreads her arms like a T, breasts still bare, nipples swollen with a sexy pink flush blooming across her chest. She sits with her legs crossed at the ankles, defiant and yet completely willing to do anything I ask. Slowly, I drop to my knees and kiss my way up her legs before prying her thighs apart. My hot breath presses against the fabric between her legs.
“I want to taste you.” My fingers slip between her underwear and her skin again. My free hand wraps around her hips, and I pull her down onto my mouth. I lap at her wetness, my tongue barely brushing her clit. Anticipation and nerves tear through me. I want her to beg, to scream. But she only moans and whimpers as I greedily lick her, once, twice, three times, four. Then I finally give my full attention to that pink button, wrapping my lips around it and sucking.
“Oh God. God, yes, Davin, yes!” She uses my old name, and it makes me want her more. That name was hers and hers alone. Holy, sacred. No one in Grae’s life knows it and if they do, it’s never spoken. If I weren’t already hard, her words would do it.
I suck harder and slip my fingers back inside, pumping her. She screams as she comes, wave after wave breaking over my lips. My hand slides between her thighs, stroking the wet, swollen flesh and spreading her slickness down over her ass. “I’ve never seen anyone as wet and ready as you.” She’s everything I want, her legs spread open and her chest heaves. But it’s the vulnerability and her eyes, heavy with desire, that makes me rock hard.
