Page 91 of Embers of You
“I know so.”
His lips descend on mine again, viciously. He’s taking and giving while I do the same. I moan and he swallows it easily while one hand collars my throat, and the other grabs my hip tightly. I want to wrap my arms around him. I want to touch him, but his chest is barely touching mine, just enough for the hair there to graze my nipples and it only makes me want to feel more of him.
“Please,” I plead against his lips, my hips bucking forward, trying to get him to touch me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this needy.” His mouth moves to my jaw, kissing and nipping at the skin there, then descends lower. His hand moves from my throat to my chest, pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. I gasp as he rolls the sensitive nub between his fingers, letting out a groan because it’s only making the need between my thighs increase. “I like it.”
“I don’t.” My head falls back, the brim of his hat gets caught on my stretched arms. “Jameson, I need more.”
“I know you do, baby. I’m going to give it to you, when you’re ready for it.”
“I’m ready now.”
“I’ll tell you when you are.”
I let out a frustrated groan, but then he sucks my nipple into his mouth roughly and it turns into a cry of both pain and pleasure as he draws it in deeper, his teeth grazing the raised bud and I squeal at the sensation. He lets go with a pop and I look down, but he immediately moves to the other one and does the same thing.
Once he lets go again, I look down to see that my breasts are red and wet with his saliva, and I watch as he drops down onto his knees in front of me. He looks up to me, eyes dark and primal while he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. There’s something else there I can’t quite name. He’s with me, but also not entirely present. There’s a coldness to him that I haven’t seen before. Though, as soon as he tosses my leg over his shoulder and his mouth is on me, the hunger in his eyes is all I see as he devours me like I’m the greatest thing he’s ever tasted.
I pull at the restraints, testing their strength because more than anything, I want to grab onto his hair and keep his mouth against me. But I’m completely at his mercy like this. I both love and hate it because I want to touch him, but being unable to is adding to my pleasure.
His tongue flicks against my clit roughly, then he’s pushing it inside me and licking me all over. I’m gasping, bucking against him, and pleading for more.
“I’m so close,” I breathe, trying to push myself against him even more so I can get there. Instead of doing one of the many things he knows that would send me over the edge, he pulls back, and I cry out in protest.
“You’re still not ready yet.”
“I disagree,” I pant, my hips bucking, trying to get him to touch me again. I’m so wet and the mixture of my own arousal and his spit only adds to how badly I want him.
“Try again.” He dives in once again and as soon as his tongue touches my clit I cry out and almost lose it.
I don’t know what he needs from me to show that I’m ready because from where I’m standing right now I feel pretty damn ready to explode. He pulls his mouth away and pushes a finger into me and I moan at the feeling, but it’s still not enough.
“You know,” he starts and I wish even more now that I had access to my hands so I could muffle his words by holding his head against me, but I can’t. All I can do is squirm and whimper as he thrusts his finger slowly, and shallowly. “I think my favorite thing in the world is making you come.”
“Great, you should do that then.”
“But I think watching you squirm and begging for it might be even better.”
I groan, “Jameson.”
“Yeah, baby, you’ll be screaming my name soon. When I let you come it’s going to be on my cock, though.”
“Then give it to me now.”
He adds another finger pushing it into me roughly, and I cry, looking down, watching how he keeps his eyes locked on what he’s doing. The view is almost better than the feeling of those same fingers.
“Why would I do that when I need to taste you some more.” Before I’m able to say anything, his mouth is on me again and I’m close to combusting.
The way he’s able to play my body like an expert every single time he touches me brings tears to my eyes. Or maybe it’s from the orgasm that’s lingering just out of reach again, or it’s the emotion I’m fighting to suppress. Maybe it’s everything from the day, from the past week. It’s all overwhelming me and being heightened by the release that’s about to completely consume me.
When he pulls back again, I scream in frustration. He has a smirk on his face, lips glistening with my wetness.
“Kiss me,” I plead, and that gets him to stand up, crashing our mouths together. I taste myself on his lips, and when his tongue invades my mouth I suck on it, tasting the mixture of us.
I want more.
I need more.
