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My fingers itch to map out every peak and valley of his toned body and I have to remind myself not to touch him before he allows it. Going so far as to sit on my hands when I feel my willpower draining. It’s torturous. Pure hell. The corded muscles he’s hiding beneath his henley taunt me. The walls around us whisper to me, demanding I give in.
“What if it’s both?” I ask breathily.
He doesn’t respond, not at first. Opting to drive me insane with little nips and licks along my collarbone and shoulder. A tingling sensation, like a mist of ants skittering along my skin settles over me. The air around us charges. A low, melodic buzz fills the space between my ears. When I’m properly riled up and basically begging for him to touch me in a much lower place, he pulls away. Asshole. A needy whimper slips out and I lean forward, not wanting his mouth to leave my skin. He smirks at me and brings his arms down from the wall, using one hand to grip my chin.
“I asked you a question, Bambi. You should know by now that I don’t speak to hear myself talk. I expect an answer, always.”
Fuck, what did he ask? I shut my eyes and weed through the haze settled in my consciousness to recall. Nope, nothing to find there. I have no idea what he asked me. It’s like a viscous vat of lust has pooled over my brain and I’m incapable of thoughts or memories not driven by carnal need.
Surprisingly, the tattooed giant takes pity on me and says, “I asked if you’ve ever participated in BDSM play?”
Oh. “No, I have not,” I chirp. “Nothing besides light spanking here and there. Is that considered BDSM? I really don’t know. Maybe it has to be done by a sadist or a mistress or a dom or well, you get the point.”
My cheeks heat and I try to duck my head but he has a firm grip on my chin, not allowing me to move. Instead, I swallow the lump forming in my parched throat and avoid his face. Would he find it attractive that he’s the first man I let really spank me? And that I liked it … a lot? I think about telling him that, but I don’t want to boost his ego further, it’s already the size of Texas.
“Then I’ll be your first introduction. You’re going to need a safeword and a non-verbal cue if you want to play with me, Bambi. And you do want to play, right?” He releases my chin and glides his hand up and down the column of my throat possessively. A shiver runs through me—as it does every time he takes control of my body.
“That depends,” I coo. “What exactly will we be playing and what do I get out of it?” Fire and brimstone. He doesn’t like to be questioned, but really, I’ve never met a man who does. Mr. Grumpy Pants just takes it to a whole different level.
“If you were mine, I’d have you in a binding contract. The terms and conditions of our interactions would be laid out clearly and I wouldn’t touch you, much less own you, before you signed your consent. But here we are, about to dive off the deep end for the second time today, and somehow I know you aren’t the only one who will be ruined by the time the sun rises.
“If we only have one night together, I want you to go in blind. Agree to give yourself to me wholly and by doing so, trust that I will shower you with both pleasure and pain. In my world, you can’t have one without the other. So tell me, doe, what will it be? Are you brave enough to push the limits of your norms?”
“Cocksucker,” I blurt out.
He looks at me like I’ve gone mad and I giggle. “That’s my safeword. I don’t know about the non-verbal cue, though.”
I get my first full smile of the night. It’s devilish and promises yummy fun times. Thank fuck, because I cannot wait. The hesitation I had over a possible second romp with this stupidly gorgeous man has dissipated into nothingness. Whether that’s the alcohol flooding my veins or the lust hazing my mind, who knows. It’s just a one night stand, right? Or a one day stand? Whatever, it’s just for today and I can accept that, especially when it means I get multiple orgasms. Yes, please.
“Why am I not surprised that you chose such a vulgar word?” he shakes his head at me. “For your cue, tap anywhere on my body twice and I’ll pause immediately.”
The fingers of his free hand crawl up my outer thigh, resting on my hip. “Wait, before we start this epic adventure, I have one very important question.” I attempt to arrange my features in a serious and contemplative expression just to fuck with him, but I have a feeling I’m failing. His brows draw together and he scans my face, probably trying to figure out where I’m going with this.
“Okay …” he leads, rubbing his thumb over the fluttering pulse in my neck.
“Should I call you daddy? Is that your thing? I mean, it’s never been my thing, but I’m sort of leaning towards it with all this kink talk. Plus you’re older than me and want to do very bad things to my very willing body.” I shrug innocently when his fingertips tighten their grip around the base of my neck and his expression darkens. What can I say, I like to play with fire and testing him to see what gets me burned is a fun way to do it.
“No, but you will call me sir. Understood?”
“Sir, yes sir,” I mimic a soldier, saluting him.
“God, you’re trouble. So much fucking trouble.”
“You're not the first to say that, and I’m damn sure you won't be the last either.”
I snicker and blow him a cheeky kiss that ends in a gasp when he thrusts his hips forward, his arousal pressing into my heated sex.
His deft fingers skate against the outside of my ribs with featherlight touches, driving me into a tizzy. The temperature in the cellar skyrockets, charging with the pheromones we’re releasing in equal measures.
“Fuck yes,” I hiss, grinding forward and wrapping my legs around his hips for leverage. “Have your wicked wicked way with me. I am yours to control … for the night. Show me what it means to be owned by you. Do your worst and ruin me for every other man after you. I dare you.” Not like he hasn’t already, but I keep that tidbit to myself.
“God, you’re perfect, sassy mouth included,” he mutters more to himself than me, but I smile triumphantly anyways. No one’s perfect, but it’s nice to be appreciated.
My consciousness evaporates as both of his hands find my breasts, squeezing and tweaking my nipples in tandem through my bathing suit top. A bolt of electricity spears through me, targeting my core, and I jerk against his hold, the camera around my neck presses into both our abdomens.
Releasing my breasts, he gently lifts the camera and phone from my front and sets them down on the barrel next to me. His hands are back on me in an instant, roaming over my body like he’s mapping out every inch of me by touch alone. Filthy wanton noises escape me and his mouth slants over mine, swallowing them whole. With a few simple tugs, the ties on my bikini top are undone and the fabric falls uselessly away.
I pull back to catch my breath. Spots of lightning spark across my vision. Note to self, don’t risk losing consciousness to keep his lips on mine. Blinking away the fog, I peer up at the tattooed giant, and revel in what I find.
