Page 86 of Stealing Blinds

“I want you inside me,” I mutter against his mouth, rolling my hips to grind against his steel-hard length and reveling in the groan he bestows upon me in response.

He yanks my head back, his lips trailing to the hollow of my throat and collarbone and back to my battering pulse point, where he sinks his teeth into me with an invigorating nip. “I should edge you all night for the hell you put me through.”

A perplexing cocktail of thrill and torment courses through me at the thought of him leaving me needy all night, but I don’t have time to dwell on either reaction because he tosses me onto the floating makeshift bed. It bows slightly from my weight, but swiftly straightens out for him to tow me toward him. My ass is butted up to the edge, and my legs dangle off it.

Without another word, he bites my thong, his teeth skimming my clit with the most delicious prickle. Then he tears the silk down my thighs. The strings on the sides graze my skin, and when I boost myself up on my elbows to watch, his eyes never veer from mine.

So hot.

He pushes my legs together and disappears beneath the surface, only to emerge a moment later with my soggy panties in his mouth. He flings them onto the travertine, not far from the shirt. They make a thunk when they land, a sundering gong before he announces his decision.

“I’m not going to deny you tonight because I’ve craved this too much.” He shakes the water from his hair and face, spreads my thighs, and moves his mouth within an inch of my pussy, his breath fanning the sensitive skin. “So, we’ll do the opposite. I came in my pants for you on your birthday. Now we’re doing things my way.”

“And what way is that?” I ask as he nips at my heat, and I buck my hips with a purr.

He chuckles, his grin equal parts wicked and wanton. “A marathon”—his flattened tongue sweeps over my cunt so slow and languid that it’s divine torture—“of you begging.”

He spears my opening with his tongue as his thumb circles my clit, and while I didn’t see the appeal of doing this on the plush raft initially, I get it now. With the open sky and fresh air, the city lights and picturesque pool, and the sensation of hovering somewhere in the middle of it all, every touch and brush and caress is intensified.

I have very little leverage like this, but still, I manage to raise my hips in rhythm with his mouth. My hand grips his wet strands to shove his face deeper into my pussy. He grunts in approval, and I briefly wonder if he forgot about his promise to make me beg all night. But I don’t dither there because every atom of my body is lit from the inside out.

A balmy breeze swoops over us, and the air against my dewy skin has goose bumps littering my arms and legs, all while Cash has lightning striking between my thighs. His scruff scrapes my delicate flesh. I roll one of my nipples between my fingers, moaning as the euphoric storm crests in my core. And when I’m right on the precipice, I lift my heel to the raft, forcing myself into him further.

In an instant, he rips his face away, that wicked grin even more sinister now. “Beg me, Palmer.”

My breaths pant out. My libido is an angry beast, but my pride is a stubborn bitch that’s not going to be reined in easily. War. “You said no edging.”

“I said I craved this, so”—he licks his lips, glistening with my arousal—“I wouldn’t deny you, but I also told you it would be a marathon of begging. And by that, I mean, if you aren’t both satiated beyond all comprehension and hypnotized by the sound of your own hoarse voice, pleading, I haven’t done my job.”

He swirls my clit with his tongue again, making my entire body jolt with need. “Greedy girl. What’s it gonna be?”

I grit my teeth to tamp down my hunger, letting my pride have another beat in the limelight, though mostly, I just enjoy pushing his buttons and upping the ante in his own game. “Looks like you might need to work a little harder if you want that type of response, Noire.”

“Good advice, Sly.” His hand comes out of nowhere, meeting my pussy with an unforgiving smack.

The sound cuts the night, melding with the fire-bowl fountains and an odd song from the ’80s. Stars flit before me, and a zing shoots up my spine. By the time his fingers and tongue resume their previous stations, tears brim in my eyes.

And that’s it. I can’t resist a bit of pain mixed with pleasure. Something he evidently learned in our steamy-bathroom soiree. It gets me every time. The thought of him stopping now is maddening.

So, with his eyes—practically obsidian from his desire—latched to mine, I relent. “Please, Cash, don’t stop.”

My conceded entreaty becomes a chant that might make my voice hoarse, but will absolutely accentuate my climax. I see the appeal.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Come on my face.”

He keeps to his word, circling and laving and planting himself between my thighs with unwavering devotion until I’m moaning and writhing and soaring with the inky clouds. Every muscle coils tight, only to rejoice with a tingling release.

A blustery gale of cinders and spoils and a bone-deep inferno.

Bathed in delirium to plunder a fortune.

And maybe since I’ve already conceded once, I don’t think twice about doing it again. I clutch his hair, pulling him up to me. “Shove that pretty pierced dick of yours inside me. Right now. Please.”

That earns me a chuckle.

“That’s my girl.” He strips off his swim trunks, throwing them to join the other garments on the travertine, and strokes his cock beneath the water. “Birth control?”

“Yes.”