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‘I missed you,’ Dornan murmured against my lips. My stomach flipped nervously, anticipation building within me. I wanted him. I needed him.
His kisses grew deeper, more urgent, and I felt the unmistakable line of his rock-hard erection pressing at my waist. I reached down and squeezed his hard length through his jeans, smiling when he knocked my hand away.
‘There’s plenty of time for that,’ he said, taking my wrists and pulling them behind my back. I shivered as his mouth, rapidly losing the coolness of the ice cubes, kissed a rough, wet trail down my neck.
‘I missed you so much,’ I whispered, tensing as I felt his hands curl around my ass and lift me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him long and hard as he carried me through the kitchen and deposited me on the end of the dining table, all without breaking our kiss.
But then he did break it. He pulled away and looked at me, really looked at me, one of those moments when you feel like your soul is laid bare. When you wonder what somebody sees in you. Do they see the lies you’ve told? The people you’ve left behind? Or do they just see what they want to see?
He pressed a palm against my chest, pushing me down until I ended up on my back, staring up at the ceiling, my legs bent at the knee and my feet – still clad in the black patent stilettos –braced against the edge of the table. I watched as he went back over to the counter and leaned over, collecting his whiskey and taking a sip.
He didn’t speak; neither of us did. I watched him with great interest and barely controlled lust, my chest rising and falling quickly in anticipation. I wanted him. Now.
But he loved to make me wait.
He placed the whiskey between my feet, the ice making a clinking noise as it shifted in the glass. My dress was long, past the knee, and tight. It didn’t seem to hinder Dornan’s hands, though; he hooked a thumb underneath each side of the skirt and pushed it up, over my knees and up my thighs, until it was bunched around my waist. Just like he’d done several hours ago, but with more patience this time, more control. He took hold of my knees and pulled them apart, the sudden movement making me breathe in sharply.
Touch me. Just touch me. It’s been too long. I could already feel wetness building at my core.
I still wasn’t wearing panties. Dornan made a small sound of appreciation in his throat as he trailed a hand up my inner thigh and over my bare pussy. He smiled as his fingers slid along my wetness.
‘You’ve been waiting for me,’ he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. I nodded, bracing my palms against my thighs.
He leaned in, his head between my legs, so close to me that I could feel his breath on my pussy. It drove me wild, that waiting, that feeling, hoping he was about to dart his tongue out and lick my willing flesh. He stayed there for a moment, just breathing, his fingers digging into the backs of my thighs. Please do it, just hurry up and do it—
His tongue found my clit. Holy mother of God. It felt good. I arched my hips towards his mouth, greedy for more. I groaned when he took his mouth away and stood straight, picking the whiskey up again and taking another sip.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked, an ice cube still in his mouth, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.
I looked at the ceiling. I couldn’t look him in the eye when he asked me what I wanted him to do.
‘You know,’ I replied.
In my peripheral vision, I saw him shake his head, a smirk spreading across his face. ‘Words. I want words.’ He rounded the table so he was at my side, crouching so we were eye to eye.
He leaned in, kissing me deeply. His mouth was cold from the ice cube, refreshing. He tasted so fucking good. His free hand went down to my clit and drew slow, shallow circles that made me moan into his mouth.
He broke the kiss, smiling as he took a chair and placed it at the end of the table. He sat down and dragged it closer, so that he now had unrestricted access to me.
Hands gripped my ass cheeks and pulled me down so I was hovering half-off the table. I heard the clink of ice cubes again and braced myself for the cold.
‘Say it,’ he ordered.
‘Fuck,’ I muttered. ‘I want your mouth on me. I want you to lick me.’
He raised his head, his smile contagious. ‘Lick you where?’
‘My pussy,’ I begged. ‘Please.’
We might have done this only hours earlier, but it had happened so quickly, it was almost as if it hadn’t happened at all. And let’s face it, I was addicted to this man – too much was never enough.
His head disappeared again. I moaned as Dornan’s cold tongue touched against my sensitive nub, pressing the ice against me. I bucked involuntarily, trying to close my legs. The cold was overwhelming. It was too much.
‘Don’t move,’ Dornan hissed, before returning his tongue to my clit. It was slightly warmer now. Sighing, I rested back on my elbows and prayed like hell that he’d finish what he was starting.
More ice. More protesting. The heat and the freezing cold stirred within me, Dornan’s hands gripping my ankles like twin vices, the unspoken message perfectly clear: Don’t. Move.
‘Holy . . . Jesus!’ I cried, as he dragged an ice cube against my opening. It was freezing cold. It stung, but in a good way.
