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"Nothing you haven’t seen before." The words are out before I can stop myself.
"You’re wrong," he mutters. "I’ve missed the feel of your breasts in my palm. I’ve missed squeezing them, massaging them, then pinching your nipples until you cry out. I’ve missed sucking on them, and playing with them, and tweaking them until I bring you to orgasm."
"You’ve never brought me to orgasm by playing with my nipples," I scoff.
"Untie me, and I’ll show you."
"Ha," I snort, "if you think I’m going to fall for that, you’re wrong."
"Oh, well," he smirks, "it was worth a try, and for the record, I’d wager I can bring you to climax by touching your nipples and no other part of you."
"We’ll see." I secure his wrists to the headboard, then sit back on my heels. His gaze is locked on my face as I take in the sculpted muscles of his triceps, the cut of his shoulders, the chiseled planes of his chest which strain his shirt. A bead of sweat slides down his throat.
"Take it off," he orders.
"What?"
"Take off my shirt."
I reach for his buttons, begin to undo them, then stop. "Nice try," I pull back my hands, "but you don’t get to dictate what I do next."
"Okay." He smirks. The sneaky bastard smirks, knowing he’s already made me do exactly that. On the other hand, I really do want to see those glorious pecs of his in all their naked glory. So, I reach down and begin to undo the buttons of his shirt.
He chuckles, and the sound rumbles up his throat.
"Stop gloating." I scowl.
He firms his lips at once. "Whatever you say."
"Are you making fun of me?" I push his shirt aside to reveal the expanse of cut planes.Santa Rosalia, he’s even more ripped than I remember him to be. Each individual muscle of his chest stands out in relief. Each plane and dip as if carved out of granite. I shove the shirt down his arms—or rather, up his arms, since his hands are over his head—and take in the scar on his bicep. I trace the marks made by the stitches I put in him. It was the best I could do with the tools I had then, but I still regret spoiling the perfection of his skin.
"I marked you," I murmur. I trail my fingers down his chest then pause. "Wha ... what's that?" I whisper as I trace the letters he's tattooed onto the space over his heart. It’s the only part of his chest that was left untouched by his tattoos, and now he's filled that in too with my name. "When did you get this done?"
“Before I found your ring."
"It ... it's..." I take in the bright yellow and blue colors he used to fill in the letters of my name. It stands out among his other tattoos which are all in black, "...beautiful." I sigh.
"And now, I will forever carry it on my body. You’re a part of me, Flower, whether you like it or not."
I drag my fingers down the grooves between the planes of his chest, and he hisses.
"When you left me, it was like a part of me had walked out with you. I felt like I had hit the rock bottom that exists below the rock bottom."
I glance up at him. "That was almost poetic."
"Seems you inspire even someone like me to express myself in verse. You.. make me feel things I never have before. You make me feel like I’m alive for the first time. You fill gaps in my life that I didn't even know needed filling. Like experiencing the first warm, sunny day after a really long and shitty winter, except it goes on for longer."
I chuckle. "You really are pulling out the stops, aren't you?" I flatten my palm against his abs, and the muscles ripple in response. It’s like touching a powerful beast and finding out every part of his anatomy is responsive and sensitive and so reactive to every contact.
My throat closes, and my mouth seems to dry up. I slide my palm down his concave stomach, and my fingertips brush his waistband.
A growl rumbles up his chest.
I glance up to find his gaze hooded, and his skin is more flushed than usual.
"You make me feel like I’m lost in the right direction. You just feel right to me, so right that I want to haul you to me and never let you go. In fact, if you untie me I'll bury my cock inside you and pleasure you until you come over and over again."
My toes curl, my thighs clench, and a bead of sweat trickles down the valley between my breasts.
