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excruciatingly conscious of how the high heels made her breasts sway with her hips. He watched her avidly, seating her on his knee, then took one breast in his hand, weighing it while he studied her face.
“These games are new to you, I think, though you agreed so readily.”
Unable to look away, she nodded.
“Do you want out? Is it too intense for you?”
“No.” His thumb passed over her nipple and she squirmed. She wasn’t a woman accustomed to taking orders—though she didn’t want him to know that—and the experience left her feeling out of her depth at times. “I just don’t always know how...to respond.”
“Honestly. However you feel is how you feel. Do you like what we’ve done so far?”
“Yes.” The word rolled into a hiss when he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“But?”
“But I sometimes wonder what I’m doing. We haven’t even kissed yet.”
“I’m saving that.”
“For what?”
“For when I’m buried inside you and you’re coming apart.”
“Oh.”
“As for what we’re doing—it’s all for the fun of it. And I think you are having fun. Let’s check.” He trailed his hand down her midline and toyed with the edge of her bikini bottom. “Spread those American thighs for me.”
Feeling as if she might be drifting outside her body, she complied, and his elegant, manicured fingers slid between her swollen labia, making her catch her breath.
“So hot. So wet.” He crooned the words, stroking her clit with gentle insistence. “Perhaps you are not used to being denied. You should come now, so you won’t be so tense.”
“I’m not tense,” she protested, then groaned, her body tightening.
“You won’t be,” he promised, his accent thicker than ever. “Hold your breasts for me, squeeze them so the nipples pop up. Good girl. This time you may come for me.”
With his hand working relentlessly between her thighs, she did as he said, moaning when he spooned a dollop of clotted cream on each thrusting nipple. Then he fished the remote out of his pocket and held it for her to see—and pushed it to high, tossing it aside as she convulsed. He held her tight, fastening his mouth on one nipple and sucking hard, pushing her clit into spasms while the vibrator inside convulsed against her vaginal walls.
The climax ripped out of her and she dropped her head back, screaming her release. She writhed on his lap like a mad thing, pressing into his hand and mouth, letting him wring every drop of pleasure from her.
When she regained the power of thought, the sunset shone warm on her face. He’d turned off the bullet, but still had one hand stroking between her wet thighs. The other arm, under her shoulders, held her breasts up to his mouth while he laved and nipped first one and then the other.
She shuddered and he raised his head smiling at her. “I love clotted cream.”
“I think I do, too,” she managed to say.
He continued to stroke her, dipping clever fingers just inside her vulva lips to gather the seeping moisture and then spread it over her labia and clit, cupping her whole sex in his hand while he watched her face. She rode the rhythm, bottom perched on his knee, hips rocking as she climbed toward orgasm again.
“Don’t come this time,” he warned.
“But—”
“Shh. Relax. I’m only learning you.” With different speeds and pressures, he did, watching her face all the time. Now he circled her clit, then pressed down, then pinched it. She tried to relax, but the pressure built with distressing force.
“Miguel,” she whimpered.
“What is it, Roo?”
“I’m going to come.”
