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Luke gripped her hips and stilled her. “Let’s take it slow, babe. I want this to last longer than a minute.” He wore a private smile that make Jane feel like they’d been lovers for years.
And then he raised her hips, positioning her so that he could do all the moving while she hovered above him. He began to work himself inside her so slowly, so exquisitely different than the pace she wanted, that Jane had no choice but to cry out at the sweet torture of it. She gasped and writhed and tried to free her hips from his grasp, but he held firm, and continued his slow pace.
When Jane stopped fighting it, she let her head fall back as she learned to appreciate the pleasures of denial. This, she decided, was a million times better than chocolate. Like no pleasure she could have imagined.
Luke traced her nipples with his fingertips, explored her flesh, then, as he increased the pace, he tugged at her nipples ever so gently, applying just enough pressure to drive her wild again.
She began to rock her hips in time with his, urging them closer to the edge, but then he pulled back again. He toppled her in one swift movement and pinned her hands at her sides, pinned her body to the bed with his.
“No, no,” he whispered. “No more fast finishes. Today we take it nice and slow.”
Today. Implying that there would be other days, possibly nights. Possibly many. A giddy sensation rose up in her chest.
She squirmed against his restraint and he freed her hands.
“Does it turn you on to be restrained?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered without thinking twice. Who was this wild sex fiend she’d suddenly become? The old Jane Langston would never have admitted an interest in bondage. She’d have labeled it demeaning or jaded or warped.
Whatever. All she knew right now was that Luke could ask her to do just about anything, maybe dress up as a French maid and pretend to dust his house, and she’d consider it a turn-on.
“I’ll remember that for later,” he said, as he nudged himself between her legs.
She spread herself wide for him, wrapped her legs around his hips, arched her back as he penetrated her again and this time began to move inside her at just the pace she longed for. Fast and hard.
He began to gasp and cry out along with her as they neared the edge, and then he stopped.
Jane opened her eyes to find him studying her with a wicked look. He had no intention of letting her come again so soon. No, he was going to make her work for it this time, she suspected, and she decided two could play at that game.
Focusing all her energy between her legs, she contracted her inner muscles around him, as tight as she could, then released. She did it again, and again. Beads of sweat broke out on Luke’s forehead. He closed his eyes and his entire body stilled as she worked her muscles.
And then he began to thrust into her again. This time though, he moved with less control, with more of the frenzied wild animal lust that Jane herself felt. She clung to him, and they muffled their moans with deep, exploring kisses, until somehow they worked themselves off the bed and onto the floor.
Luke managed to break the fall so that she felt only the slightest discomfort as they landed on the thickly padded white carpet of her bedroom floor. She gave the briefest thought to rug burns until she realized that they’d taken half the covers on the bed with them.
He continued their lovemaking nearly uninterrupted until Jane felt herself quaking, coming so close… He stopped again, his own gasps and perspiration making it clear that he was just as close to release as she was. But he possessed a superhuman sense of self-control that Jane, in her wild-animal mode, couldn’t hope to replicate. She clawed at his back, writhed and moaned, locking him against her with her legs.
After he planted the softest of kisses on her lips, he whispered, “I want to taste you now.”
Pleasant as that sounded, Jane couldn’t imagine him withdrawing, taking away that heavenly sensation of being filled by him.
“Not now—”
But he’d already escaped, and then he lifted her back onto the bed and positioned her bottom just at the edge of it. If she hadn’t been quaking and senseless, she might have mustered more of a fight. In her present state though, Jane could only utter the slightest protest as he propped her feet on his shoulders and plunged his tongue into her.
“Oh,” she cried. And then she forgot whatever protest she’d considered making.
He coaxed, he tasted, he teased her clit with his tongue as he explored her again with his fingers. He worked a magic so exquisite that Jane cried out with even greater abandon than before. Surely the neighbors would hear her and decide she was either in serious trouble or had the best sex life in the neighborhood.
