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When he smiled like that… “Now, fried plantains?”
Or sex.
But I’d start with plantains.
“She-wolf, I just gave you anisland.” He ducked his head and grabbed one of the ribbon tails at my shoulders and tugged it in his teeth.
I laughed and pushed him away while putting on my best society pout. It was a gorgeous evening outside, and I wanted to enjoy it with him as the sun went down and the thunderheads formed on the horizon.
“You think anislandautomatically means you get laid?” I teased. If I got stuck on that island, I wanted to feel an evening like this, and smell the weather like this, and think of him. Happy, werewolf-free thoughts of just beingwithhim, in the absurd tropical poshness of West Palm Beach, which didn’t exist in any reality I had ever been vaguely familiar with. It was unstained. It was pure. And I wanted as much of it as I could have.
“I think your scent suggests it.”
“My scent? You mean how I’m hungry?”
“Stop that,” he growled as I shifted my hip into his body anyway. He gripped my ass in one hand and lifted me against him. “I’ve been thinking about Equonix constantly.”
I thought about Equonix too, but for the wrong reasons. I kicked the thought aside and held onto his tie, hand over hand, instead, and teased him, “Why? Was it lacking somehow?”
“Of course it was, pretty wolf.” He lifted me closer and ducked his head, so we were eye to eye. “And as much as I loved fucking you while shoving your face in the forest floor, it was so… limiting.”
My clit tingled and my pussy got damp, and when I shifted slightly, he twitched as he inhaled the scent. I felt along the folds of his tie and tugged one of them. “Nobody likes dead leaves on their privates.”
I squirmed free and pivoted about, swishing the skirt against his pants and maybe giving him a glimpse of the matching sky-blue panties I was wearing.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Need a minute?”
“I need more than a minute,” he growled, his hazel gaze smoldering. “And you should expect more than a minute.”
“Expect or prepare for?”
“Both.”
I beckoned him with a finger before flouncing out the front door.
I steppedout of my quick shower, wrapped in a towel, to find Sterling (still in his suit) plucking the ribbons from my blue dress. The bedroom lights were off, but a few candles burned on the side table, and the only light came from the city through the open blinds. In the distance, faint, dark glossy ribbon of ocean in the distance. Sterling was a silken shadow, preying on my discarded attire. “What are you doing?”
The light caught the silver tips of his hair and the edges of his sharp features and his pale hands moving over the white ribbon. He pulled a length of loosened ribbon free. It made a soft, satiny, tearing sound as it moved through the fabric. Then he set the dress over the back of a chair and dropped the ribbon on the bed before heading into the bathroom. As he passed, he paused to pull the clip from my hair so it fell free around my damp shoulders.
I shed my towel and moved our phones into a drawer before Sterling could toss them somewhere.
He was out of the shower within minutes, and came back into the bedroom still dripping and sans towel.
“Lay down.” His voice was soft, but intentionally soft, because no one who ever heard it would describe Sterling’s speaking voice assoft.
I shivered all over and obeyed. He watched, and once satisfied I was precisely where he wanted me on the bed, he joined me.
He pulled the length of ribbon over my collarbone, between my breasts, down my belly, between my thighs. I gasped when it brushed my clit and he pulled it lightly over my lips, then looped it under my thigh, very loosely. He moved forward and drew his tongue down my slit while slowly pulling the length of ribbon down my thigh and twisting it around my calf and ankle.
He looped the ribbon around his fingers and palm and ran his hand along the inside of my knee while swirling his tongue around my clit. I twisted my fingers into the bedsheets. He nipped one of my folds before spreading me slightly to get a better taste. I moaned softly. He dipped his tongue deeper, and I squirmed, which was met with him pulling back.
“That’s not fair,” I whispered as he kissed my folds and caressed my thigh with his ribbon-wrapped hand.
“You’re impatient,” he whispered back, but his fingers held me slightly parted. I was wet, and the air conveyed how damp I was. He inhaled and pulled a finger from clit to the bottom of my slit, and I whined again, begging for more than a fingertip. “Very impatient.”
And he was enjoying this too much. I’d get my revenge soon enough...
He swatted the back of my thigh with his ribboned hand, then the other thigh with his bare hand. The difference in sensations pulled my brain in two directions and I gasped, then again as he returned to teasing my pussy with his tongue and gentle fingertips until I was soaking wet and silently pleading for more and my nerves sparkled and shone so much it almost hurt. But in a sweet, sweet way.
