Page 121 of Stealing Blinds

In a blink, he’s on the table with me, I’m lying flat on my back, and a belt is being whipped around my wrists and through the face hole. I’m pinned with my arms above my head and my breasts jutting toward him. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, finishing with a stinging nibble, before he pulls out of me and leaves me there.

“What the hell, Noire?”

That goading grin of his lights the room far more than the candles. It’s the only warning I receive before my beloved vibrator descends on my clit, whirring deliciously. I arch my back, pressing into the sensation, though it pales in comparison to his mouth.

It doesn’t matter. He yanks it away. “You know the rules.”

He swirls the buzzing avocado-shaped toy over my inner thighs and lower abs, up to my breasts and back to my clit, smirking wickedly when I rut against it and sag from its retreat. I speak no coherent words through the next few rounds. He paces about me, delivering one plague of fleeting rapture after another.

My vision streaks to spun gold and duplicitous desires. My limbs quiver. My inner walls contract as I leak all over the table and whimper for what I crave.

He wants me to beg, and, yeah, I see the appeal in this situation. Still, even with Danny on the other side of the wall, making Cash work for my pleas is too much fun. So, as he circles the table, nearing my head while he glides the vibrator up the valley of my breasts and over each nipple in a taunt, I take matters into my own … thighs.

Using my core muscles, I boost myself up until my legs are high in the air and my weight is balanced on my neck and upper shoulders.

Bound but bold.

The move stops Cash in his tracks, like I hoped, so as he dissolves into laughter, I bracket his face with my knees, and he indulges me.

“Christ, Palmer.”

I’ll never get over surprising this godlike man. That awe on his face is a gold medal and priceless work of art. A rare fortune.

“Forget the vibrator and the edging. We always start with crème brûlée, right, pretty boy?”

“Dessert first.” Smacking his lips, he reiterates my quip from when he painted me in his closet. “That’s a currency I can get behind.” He dips his mouth to the apex of my thighs, and when his tongue sweeps over my heat, he growls and grips my ass possessively, reveling in that first taste as much as I am. “Mine. Every. Single. Drop.”

He flicks and swirls, spears and feasts.

So, I reward him with the outlandish response he was hoping to evoke. “Yes, Cash! Right there.”

I mean every zealous word. His mouth is heaven. His stubble brushing against my skin is delicious. And something about this upside-down position has me seeing everything in a whole new light. Stars and hope and a champagne glow. A pond of pleasure and promise.

I squeeze my thighs against his ears and hoist myself more firmly against him, increasing the friction until this serene sanctuary morphs to twisted rhapsodies. “Fuck, that’s it.”

My abs clench and burn, and my legs practically convulse with my delirium. I tilt my head to find the dripping tip of his dick near my cheek and manage a teasing swipe that grants me the salty tang of us. That simple lick renders him feral seconds before I explode with his name on my lips. My blood rushes to opposing destinations, divided between my foggy brain and my pulsing clit, as I erupt with purrs and whimpers. I soar into an inside-out realm of euphoria. Boneless limbs and silky flesh.

Before I’ve even floated down, he drops my legs, climbs on the table, rests my calves on his shoulders, and slides inside me. Soft and slow and achingly haunting. As soon as he fills me, he reaches hidden crevices. Soul-deep places, once lost to a prison cell and vanquished dreams.

Something transpires on the other side of the wall—banging and a booming tenor—but I’m too locked into Cash.

As the tide entrusts the moon, we move in tandem.

Molding and mirroring. A current and a command.

His tempo increases, his fingers caper over my clit, and his lips plant tender kisses on my legs. But those smoldering eyes never veer from mine.

He’s everywhere—in my veins and cells, muscles and soul. I’m lost and found inside the Noire who holds all the cards.

Bending toward me, he cups the side of my face, as if he’s seeing me for the first time or memorizing me here in the placid bubble of us with hell beating down our door.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers—because it isn’t for show; it’s for me. “You’re the magic I’ve been searching my whole life for, Sly.”

My eyes prickle. I pride myself on seeing every angle, but I never saw him coming. “I love you too.” I can barely squeak out the final sentiment, but I know he understands why—this is the paragon of beauty I would risk it all to harbor. “You’re my magnum opus.”

He bobs his head on a stuttered breath, permitting himself to heed every ounce of emotion enveloping us, as he fucks me with everything he is.

Until up is down and sky is ground.