Page 50 of Wine & Dine

I hear shuffling once again and sense him standing before me. “Lean forward,” he demands. “Grip the armrests if you need to, but don’t touch me.” I lower my arms and rest my hands just above my spread thighs. I lean forward until something touches my lips. Smooth. Tight. Skin.

He doesn’t need to ask. I open for him, and he enters my willing mouth. My tongue swirls, and my cheeks hollow as I suck him deep. He sets the pace, slowly rocking forward, and desire rips through me. I need the release. I reach for myself, knowing I’m exposed to him in this contorted position. My fingers find a mix of cool flesh and wet heat. I stroke until he notices. He draws back from my mouth, a pop sound following the release. However, my mouth follows the retreat, salivating for more of him. I might have growled, gnashing my teeth. I want him.

“You little cheater,” he hisses. The ottoman drags across the carpet as if he had shoved it away from him. His hands swat at mine, and I return them over my head, gripping the back of the chair. His hands grasp my inner thighs, holding me open and on display. The only sound between us is ragged breathing and tense anticipation. I’m ready to beg him to take me when the moist tip of his dick slides through my weeping folds. My head thrashes on the back on the chair while the smooth skin drags over my sensitive spot.

“Dolores,” he growls. “Let me in.” His voice rings with more than he says. “I’ll pull out. Just a little…Just once.” He can’t complete his thought as he separates me and slides through the tender folds once again. I’m coating him—skin on skin—and I can’t remember the last time I was with a man without a barrier.

“Trust me,” he begs.

“When was the last time you were like that with a woman?” I have to ask. He freezes, the hard length of him resting against my entrance.

“A long, long time ago, Dolores.” My lips twist as he hesitates, hovers. “Please don’t bring anyone else into this right now. It’s never been like this for me, Dolores. I want you.”

There’s something in his voice. The plea. The honesty. The raw truth that I might be different. My leg curls around his hip, and I nudge him with the heel of my ruby red shoe.

Welcome home, Tin Man, I whisper internally as he takes the hint and presses his tip to my entrance.

“Fuck,” he growls almost unintelligibly as he slowly slips into me and halts. His fingertips dig into my thighs. Bruises might occur, but I don’t care. He can mark me. He already has. My heart will be scarred forever after this.

He drags me to the edge of the short cushion and lifts one leg to his shoulder. I’m so full, so open to him, and completely at his mercy. Open-mouthed kisses trail down my ankle and calf. Then he lowers the leg to the armrest. One hand remains near the opposite leg. He rolls his hips, adjusting himself inside me.

My God that felt good.

“Dolores,” he calls out like a prayer. “Hold on, sweetheart.” He shifts his body so both hands are braced on the chair, and he lifts to delve into me deeper, harder, faster. I curl under him, legs spread wide, fingers clutching the back of the chair. He’s hitting something inside me I didn’t know existed, and the orgasm will surely rip me in two. It races from my toes and rushes down my chest, barreling toward the center to crash and explode in the most decadent release I’ve ever experienced. My knees close on his hips as my back arches, and I scream.

“Dolores,” he pants, our bodies jostling with each intense thrust. I can’t help myself. My voice dominates me as I warn, “Don’t you dare leave me.”

Red heels connect around the back of his thighs, trapping him from pulling back.

“I’ll. Pull. Out. But…” His stuttering voice breaks—a sign he’s on the edge.

I don’t speak. I don’t want him to come on me. Not Rusty, whispers through my thoughts at the most inopportune time.

“Dolores,” he strains, warning me with a desperate plea before he stills. His back stiffens as he halts his jagged thrusting and commences to pulse inside me, filling me with his hot seed. My heels unlock, sliding over his hips until my body sags. He awkwardly folds down over me, wrapping his arms around my back and dragging me against his chest.

“That wasn’t very responsible,” he mutters into my shoulder before kissing it. Our breathing matches, ragged and spent. His heart beats against my chest, the rapid rhythm keeping time with mine.

“Please don’t say you regret it,” I whisper. The moment of euphoria pulls back from me, receding too quickly. His fingers fumble as he tugs the blindfold to my forehead. Sharp light brown eyes sparkle like candlelight at me.

“I regret absolutely nothing I’ve done with you, Dolores. My only regret might be that I can’t do this every day of my life with you.”

My heart crashes. So intense. He’s lost in the moment, I think, as am I. I kick off my ruby red shoes and take his lips, deciding to stay in Oz just a little bit longer.