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Her hands covered his in an instant. “Uh, Dean, I’m really not so sure about this.”
“I am.”
She clutched onto him tighter. “Dean.”
Her anxiety could be heard in the quiver of her soft voice. She should know he wouldn’t hurt her. He would never cause her pain. But then again, they’d only just met and he’d already made her cry. He had a lot to make up for.
“You don’t have to worry that I would take advantage of you, sweetheart,” he murmured. “My pleasure comes from yours.”
“There was plenty of pleasure without the blindfold.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, but this is more adventurous. And you wanted adventure, remember?” Dean waited, and when she dropped her hands, he went back to securing the material in a knot at the back of her head. “Is it too tight?”
She shook her head. No words, only the sound of her rapid breaths could be heard.
“All you have to do is feel. Let yourself go, Catherine. Experience every touch, every throb, and every breath.” A small shake of her head and Dean knew she was ready.
He moved out from between her legs, drawing a frown from her. But he wanted to give her more than a few moments of passion. He wanted to give her a part of himself. By the time he was finished, Catherine would have had more of him than he’d ever given any other woman. What she did with it would be up to her.
Dean fished around in the bag and brought out a bottle of wine. He inspected the label. It was a merlot, a good year. He used the bottle opener and uncorked it, then held the cork beneath her nose.
“What is that?” she asked as she inhaled.
“You tell me. What’s it smell like?”
She sniffed again, then smiled. “Wine?” She paused, then added, “Uh, I’m not really a wine expert, Dean.”
Unaccountably charmed by her, Dean leaned down and kissed her, the satiny softness of her lips fueling his already raging hard-on. “Experts aren’t required for this game.”
“If you say so,” Catherine murmured, clearly unconvinced. Dean held the cork under her nose once more and allowed her time to take in the rich, seductive fragrance.
This time she took a deeper inhale. “Oak,” she replied. “Maybe a hint of . . . cherry?”
Dean touched her thigh and felt her jump. The blindfold made every soft stroke more pronounced for her. “Very good girl,” he whispered as he put the cork aside. He picked up the bottle and took out a glass he’d brought along, then poured a small amount. Dean put the glass to her lips and said, “Here, take a sip and tell me what you taste.”
He watched her drink a small amount, then her tongue darted out and she licked her lips. Dean was having a hell of a time concentrating with Catherine sitting in front of him, her plump tits bare and her pussy inches away from his hand.
“It’s good,” she said, “and there’s a hint of spice, I guess.” She swiped her tongue over her bottom lip again, and Dean groaned. “Hmm, I can’t quite put my finger on what else. Something fruity, maybe?”
“Ah, you do know wine,” he murmured as he moved his hand higher up her thigh. “I don’t drink much, but over the years I’ve developed a fondness for good wine.” As he reached her sweet pussy, he flicked his thumb back and forth over the little nub he found there.
She threw her head back and moaned. “Dean, please, I need more. I need you.”
Her voice had gone hoarse, and Dean was tempted to forget the game. He dipped his finger into the glass of wine and said, “Soon, I promise. First, open your mouth for me.”
She hesitated only a few seconds this time. Dean slid his wine-soaked finger into her mouth and asked, “What’s the fruit you taste?”
She closed her lips around his finger and licked it clean. The seductive sight had Dean’s cock thickening. She pulled her mouth off him and shook her head. “I-I don’t know.” She swirled her tongue over her bottom lip, then said, “Blackberry maybe?”
Catherine’s voice was a thready bit of sound in the quiet room, driving every one of his senses wild with need. He put the glass on the end table and plunged his wet finger into her slick, hot pussy. She moaned, and he covered her mouth with his, hungry for her taste. “Mmm,” he whispered against her lips, “my two favorite things.”
“W-what’s that?” she replied as her hips began moving, arching into his hand as he fingered her.
“Your pussy and a good bottle of merlot,” he answered. “Fucking delicious.” Dean continued sliding a single finger in and out of her opening, driving himself mad, as he was already so hard he hurt. He wanted to thrust deep, drive his cock into her honeyed heat where he knew paradise waited.
“Oh, God, Dean,” she moaned, “that feels so good. Please don’t stop.”
“I have no intention of stopping. You’re like a fine wine to me, Catherine. I want to sip and savor you. I want to take in your scent and enjoy the essence of your sweet femininity. I want you, sweetheart, and I seriously doubt that will change anytime soon.”
