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His fingers find my clit again, but this time he’s only playing with me. Teasing. Showing me just how completely he controls my pleasure. His touch sears me, but it’s his eyes that consume me even more. Whether it’s the hunger I see in his gaze that’s drawn me to him from the start, or the darkness that lives behind it, I can’t be sure.
“What do you want, baby?”
“You,” I gasp as he takes me right to the edge again, then eases off. “I want you in my hands. In my mouth. Inside me, Nick . . . Please.”
His fingers wrap around mine now, guiding both my hands to his belt buckle. It’s all the permission I need. I can’t free him fast enough, can’t wait to feel the heavy length of his cock in my grasp, in my mouth.
I drop down in front of him and fasten my lips around the head of his penis. I want to make him come like I did this morning in his office, but he doesn’t have that kind of patience this time. All too soon, he pulls me up, kissing me long and hard.
“Go to the window.”
I glance over my shoulder at the large pane of floor-to-ceiling glass. Outside, the sun has just dipped below the skyline. The horizon is aglow in shades of peach, dark salmon, and lavender, while above Manhattan’s blanket of twinkling lights, the sky glows impossibly blue. The same incredible hue of Nick’s eyes.
Naked, I approach the glass and wait for him to either join me or command me to do something more. As much as I need the release he’s teased me with, I know how delicious he can make the torment of waiting. My body is ready for anything he wants to give it.
A shiver races over my bare skin as I look out at the glittering city below and anticipate whatever pleasure that is to come. I hear the soft glide of a bureau drawer being opened inside his massive walk-in closet that’s adjacent to the bedroom.
“Hands on the glass,” he orders me as he steps out behind me a moment later. “Spread your legs. Wider. I want that beautiful pink pussy open and waiting for me when I’m ready to fuck it.”
I hurry to obey. Anything to please him, especially when the reward is mine in the end.
I stand at the window, my palms pressed against the cold glass on either side of my head. My feet are spaced wider than my shoulders, making my hips cant forward and my ass jut up and out behind me. I feel exposed, vulnerable. At Nick’s mercy in this position that doesn’t permit me to shift without losing my balance.
I feel him approach, even though his steps are soundless on the rug-covered marble floor, his movements smooth and silent at my back. Yet each soft circulation of the air in the room rushes past my wet, swollen flesh like a kiss. I shudder at the sensation, desperate to turn around and look for him. I bite my lip to keep from asking where he is, what he intends.
His touch lights on my spine, fingers splayed between my shoulder blades before moving softly, tenderly, down to the small of my bowed back.
“You made me crazy with concern today,” he says, his deep voice quiet, but firm. “What do you think I should do about that, Ms. Ross? Reward you? Or punish you?”
I swallow. He’s teased me with this word before, too, but never after I’ve upset him. And never when I cannot see his face or his eyes to know if he is serious.
His tone seems to suggest that is.
When I feel the cool slide of long leather laces being draped gently against the curve of my ass, I have no doubt he’s serious. Alarm spikes through me, along with something too hot to be fear. He moves the flogger’s tails slowly over my skin, giving me a chance to get used to them, gauging my response.
“Do you know what this is?”
I nod, even though my knowledge is limited to photos and fiction.
“Have you ever felt one?”
“No.”
He grunts. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
He leans in close, his words low and hot against my ear. “Yes, you do.”
I suck in a sharp breath as the long leather tails slip into the seam of my ass. They brush against my pussy, still cool, but warming from the heat of my body. I shiver, though not out of fear.
Nothing close to fear.
Not when Nick is gentling me with one hand, while the other swings the flogger back, then snaps the tails against my bare backside. I flinch, even though the sting of the leather is less intense than I expect it to be.
“That’s for the first hour, when I thought you were just trying to make a point by ignoring my texts and voice mails.”
He cracks the flogger against my other cheek. The tips of the leather laces brush my swollen folds, and the cry I emit is anything but pained.
