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Gripping the edge of the table, he drops his head back for a moment, tendons jumping in the sides of his neck. I continue my unrushed exploration of his cock and balls, knowing it’s got to be driving him beyond insane that he can’t order me to put my hands on him now too.
His fingers spear into my unbound hair, fisting and flexing as I suck him deep into my mouth and tighten my cheeks around him, all the while holding his dark, hooded gaze.
Then he frees his hold on my hair, my name a harsh gasp as he reaches behind him for something on the table. The red silk runner. His eyes blaze with wicked intent as he brings the sash around in front of him, dangling the fringed edge of it over my bare shoulders.
Stroking the side of my face, he gently draws me away from his erect cock.
There is a question in his glittering eyes. I answer by holding still, allowing him to tie the silk around my head like a blindfold.
“You’re not finished with dessert yet,” he tells me, his voice my only anchor in my new molten-hued world.
I hear him move, followed by the soft clink of a spoon against a bowl. His fingers alight gently below my chin, guiding my mouth back to his cock and to whatever additional treat he intends to gift me with now. I know in that instant, when something sweet and sticky meets my tongue as I lick the crown of his penis.
Honey.
It slides down the sides of his thick shaft and I chase it with my tongue, with my lips, savoring the taste of him even more than the nectar that now coats his smooth, steely flesh.
“Mm,” I hum as I lap and suckle my way along every hard inch of him. “Now you’ve got me craving cream.”
His answering curse is profane, highly erotic. “I’m going to give you some, baby. Right after I sample the cream I’m craving.”
He crouches down in front of me and roughly lifts my skirt. I hear his sharp inhalation when he finds me bare beneath my dress. Bare and drenched and quivering for him.
“Jesus Christ. Your pussy’s been naked and waiting for me this whole time.” It hardly sounds like a complaint.
I can’t see his face, but I’m pretty sure his gaze is beyond fevered now. “If I had told you, we never would’ve made it past the champagne.”
“Baby, if you had told me, we never would’ve made it into the car.”
He goes down on me without warning, pushing my thighs apart and burying his face in my sex. I have no hope of staving off the orgasm that’s been on the verge of breaking ever since we began indulging in our decadent dessert. With his palms holding me aloft in my chair and keeping me steady against his wicked mouth, Nick makes me come in what seems like seconds.
I shudder against his tongue, pleasure arcing through me in wave after glorious wave.
I am boneless, still spiraling through my climax as he carefully lifts me from the chair, mindful of the pearls that still bind my hands behind my back.
With my blindfold in place, I have no choice but to surrender to him completely as he bends me over the table and spreads me open. I hear the soft rustle of the condom packet he retrieves from his pants pocket, and then I feel Nick’s heat against me as he guides his cock to my body’s entrance and pushes inside on a long, slow thrust.
“I want you to come for me again,” he demands harshly. “I want to hear you scream for me.”
And in those next moments, as he roars and bucks with the onslaught of a staggering release, I tumble over the edge wit
h him, his name torn from my throat like a prayer.
I can’t deny him. My body and my will are both at his mercy.
And so is my heart.
Chapter 11
I am sore in all the right places as I step out of the shower the next morning and towel off in the large master bathroom of the penthouse.
Nick is ahead of me by nearly an hour. His towel is damp on the heated chrome rack mounted on the wall where I now hang mine, and I can hear him talking to someone on Bluetooth as I slip into short silk kimono robe, then proceed to finger-comb and dry my hair. My makeup takes all of five minutes since I’m only going to the studio to work today and anything more than mascara and a little color on my lips is overkill around Lita and Matt.
I pad out of the bedroom barefoot and find Nick in the kitchen. “You let me oversleep.”
“I thought you might appreciate the extra rest this morning.”
To my surprise, I see that not only is he already dressed for his day in a pearl gray shirt and black slacks, he has also had time to make breakfast. As I approach, he puts a fluffy poached egg on a bed of crab meat, tomato, and spinach, then spoons some creamy yellow hollandaise over the whole thing.
