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He smiles at me and runs his fingertips down my arm, leaving familiar goose bumps in their wake. “Sei bellissima,” he says. “You’re beautiful.”
“We need a gesture. This will be more important during the breath play you mentioned wanting to explore. But you need to have a safe gesture, too. We can use something like snapping your fingers. Would that be okay?” he asks, and I agree, using my words.
“I think we’re safe to get started, then, kitten. Remember, green, yellow, and red. I’m going to use this candle wax to start.” He points to the wax. “It melts down into massage oil, and it’s a good starting point. As opposed to normal wax that hardens once it starts to cool, this wax melts into an oil substance, making it easier for play.”
My mind immediately races with thoughts of how many women he’s done this with.
He seems to know exactly what he’s doing.
“First, though, I need your clothes off. You can take everything off, or if you’d prefer just exploring one area of your body at a time, that works, too.”
He leaves it up to me, and I decide to take my top off, leaving my bra and jeans on for now. I glance over at a small table that Naomi and Christopher have rolled over and set the supplies on before meeting Dante’s eyes again—only to find the man practically salivating.
Over me? His gaze is glued to my chest and then bounces from my covered breasts and down to my bare stomach and back up again. There’s a hunger in his eyes I’d be careless to miss.
There’s a couple of different candles, a lighter, aloe vera, and what looks like a wax warmer with wax already melted inside it, among other things.
Naomi and Christopher fade into the background, and suddenly, it’s just the two of us.
“We need to establish a safe temperature for you,” Dante begins. “One that brings you to the brink but doesn’t facilitate in any unwanted or unpleasurable pain. Are you ready?”
The motive?To use her to get to her family.
The current state of said motive? Unequivocally fucked.
As I watch her giving herself to me, surrendering her control on the table splayed out in front of me, the only thing my fucking mind can rationalize is the fact that I want to be nine inches deep inside her and pleasuring her in an entirely different way.
She apparently thinks better of leaving her bra on, and she sits up just a bit and takes it off, freeing herself. Showing herself to me in a brand new fucking way.
And I swear it’s my fucking undoing.
It’s like this woman has me in a trance, and I hate it. But I also kind of fucking love it.
After the conversations we’ve had, what’s happened tonight, and just being around her…I’m fucked in the head. I want to bring her just as much pleasure as pain, and I’m going to fuck around and skew my intentions.
But I currently don’t give a shit.
It’s extremely difficult to tear my gaze away from her perfect fucking tits. From her unblemished, smooth skin to her rose-colored peaked nipples…everything about her is flawless. I want to bite down on her taut flesh, explore her with my tongue.
Lure out the beautiful sounds I’ve been dying to hear escape from her throat.
I scoop some of the massage oil wax out of the warmer and hold it high above her belly.
“The higher I hold it, the cooler it will be before it hits your skin,” I tell her. “The second the air hits it on the way from the jar to your skin, it starts cooling, so the higher, the cooler, and the lower, the warmer the wax. We’ll start up here.”
“I’m ready,” she says, her pretty mouth forming a smile as she looks up to where I hold the jar above her stomach.
I tip the jar enough so just a small amount of white wax drips out, and it falls to her skin and creates a small pool of oil just under her breastbone. I groan when I see the oil against her skin. There’s something so fucking sexy about wax play. The ability for it to inflict so much fucking pain, but also the contrasting capability to please to an all new level.
“Mmm,” she moans, and my already thickening cock decides it’s time to come out and play, too. “God, that was…” She inhales a quick breath, her stomach and chest quickly rising and sinking. “I liked that.”
“Too cold? Just right?” I ask her, knowing it couldn’t be too hot by the point it reached her skin.
I look down at it, and I’m unable to resist setting down the jar and using one fingertip to trail the warm oil from the center of her chest up and between her tits and just below her neck.
“I could definitely handle warmer. Green.”
When she uses her safe word, I have the urge to bend down and claim her mouth.
