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Tareq’s balls twitched, and the pressure at the base of his cock was almost painful.He needed to come, and now.
With a growl he sealed his mouth over hers, sucking until her tongue slid between his lips so he could bite it.She made a soft sound of pain and need and that was what did it, what pushed him over the edge.He kept his mouth sealed to hers, their tongues dancing as he tasted her, while his cock twitched and pulsed as he came.
When it was over, Tareq shifted to rest his forehead on hers.Her breath fanned his face, and he liked the unexpected intimacy of it.
“You doubted that I thought you were beautiful?”he whispered as sanity returned and he slotted together pieces of what had just happened.
“I was scared,” she replied with matching quiet.“Usually men close their eyes.”
“Men are trash,” he said.
She laughed, as he’d intended.Reluctantly he pulled out, looking at her well-fucked pussy for a moment.He touched her clit, watched her jerk in reaction.
“If we didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d keep playing with this.”He fingered her clit.
“I’m really sensitive, Sir.”The words came from between clenched teeth.
“I know.”He kept touching her clit, even flicked it, which made her shriek.
“Lucky for you we have somewhere to be.”
She blinked at him.“May I ask where?”
“You—” He leaned in, unclipped her arms, cradling them as he helped her lower them.“—have a date with some rope.”
Chapter13
Nomi half sat, half leaned on Tareq.They were only a few feet away from Masters Ben and Morton, and their checklist-assigned subs.
Master Ben turned out to be Tareq’s friend Ilias.
Nomi hadn’t recognized the man who’d spoken to Tareq in the parking lot as Master Ben.Partially because she was used to seeing him radiating intense focus and a sort of coiled violence.The kind of expression and posture that was like a drug to subs.You knew sceneing with him was probably dangerous, but were going to do it anyway.
The man standing here now was definitely Master Ben—shoulders back, body stiff, one hand on his sub’s head in what was decidedly not a casual manner.His sub looked sort of shocked, and trembled occasionally under his hand.Every time she so much as shifted, Master Ben looked down at her, his gaze not exactly cold, but assessing.This man was night-and-day from the easygoing guy she’d noted in the parking lot.
Tareq had told her that Ilias used “Ben” as his club name because those were the first three letters of Ilias’s last name, and easier to pronounce than his actual last name.
Master Ben had “R,” hence him organizing this rope scene.Master Morton had “S” and though Nomi assumed that had been done specifically so Master Morton could do a shibari scene, Tareq told her that shibari was actually not one of the “S” checklist items.It was listed with “R” as “Rope, Shibari.”
The overseers hadn’t assigned the club rope expert to “R,” proving they were sadists.Which was hardly news.
Master Morton was actually one of three Doms who had the letter S, and Tareq had whispered to her that there was some drama with the letter S group, but hadn’t elaborated.
They were waiting off to one side of the wide platform, Tareq perched on a rolling stool that was braced against one of the support posts for the pergola above them.The pergola served triple duty.During the day it shaded the courtyard, and it provided a structure for the climbing vines and desert roses the club grew in massive pots.The third use was as a frame for bondage and suspension.Metal glinted among the leaves overhead—heavy rings and brackets bolted into the wood.
Nomi stood between Tareq’s spread legs, her back against his chest, one butt cheek hitched up so she was half sitting on his thigh.His chin rested on her shoulder, his arms around her, his hands casually, if possessively, cupping her breasts through the sheer “murder robe” as he now called it.
Nomi tipped her head to the side, resting it against Tareq’s.It wasn’t until she’d done it that she realized it was too casual, too intimate.She felt comfortable with Tareq, and that made it easy to forget that he was only here because he’d been assigned to top her.
His smiles and genuine appreciation of her body made it too easy to read into their interactions.To think there was more here than the camaraderie of being game partners.
Equating or conflating the intimacy of BDSM with romantic intimacy was an amateur mistake.She knew how to separate what happened here from what happened outside the club.But Tareq was blurring that line in a way she hadn’t experienced in years.
Maybe it was because he was unique in the way he slid seamlessly from strict, masochist Dom, to smiling make-her-laugh boyfriend material.
She grimaced at the thought, hating that term no matter how accurate it was.Tareq’s personality and actions made him feel like boyfriend material, and she needed to get it together and control her emotions and reactions.
“You okay?”he asked.
