Page 124 of Just One Look
He said, “What?” He was still frustrated and aroused almost past bearing, but he needed her to know this. “Come on, Elle. Do it. Whatever you’re thinking is too dirty? Do it.”
She said slowly, “You can use your safe word. Or just tell me to stop.”
Something spiked up inside him. Anxiety. Excitement. “Do it.”
In answer, she … turned around. Still straddling him, but facing away. And then she leaned all the way over, put one palm on the bed, and touched the other one, the one with the vibrator, to herself. And took him in her mouth.
“Fuck.”It was a groan, because he was staring into all that warm, wet pink, with that little fingertip vibrator taking the scenic route. He was tied down to this bed, and he couldn’t reach any of it. And her mouth was around him and working hard.
She wasn’t teasing now. She didn’t have the hands to do it. She sucked him in deep, and she kept it moving. His hands were straining against the restraints, pulling as tightly as he could, and he was gasping.
Wait. Wait. He didn’t want to … it was too soon. In the last moment before it would be too late, he gasped, “Stop. Stop.”
Her hand stopped. Her mouth stopped, too. She froze a second, in fact, and then she was climbing over him, shifting around, sitting up again, her hair in her face, her chest heaving, asking, “What?” Pulling her hair back, licking her lips, looking like the Goddess of Sin. “Was that bad? I mean, the … the view? I thought that might be too much. Sorry.”
Now, he wanted his hands free for a whole different reason. He still was having a hard time getting his breath, but he needed to tell her this right now. “What?” he said. “No. Come up here and kiss me.”
She did, and he put everything he had into it. When she came up for air and rested her forehead against his, he said, “No. That was awesome. Torture, but awesome. That’s the view I love. I didn’t want to come in your mouth, that’s all. I need to be inside you.”
“Oh.” A sigh that was surely relief. “Right. I’m going back to being in charge now.”
He could have smiled all day. “You do that. Slide right down my body, come down over me, and ride me hard.”
“Uh … Luka?”
“Yeh?” Why were they talking? Why wasn’t she doing it?
“How was that me being in charge?”
“Oh. I like the other way better.”
She laughed against him, and he grinned, too. And then she was sliding down his body, coming down over him, and … rubbing herself over him.
Rasp of silky fabric. Wet warmth of a woman who needed it bad. He shifted his weight until he was closer, teasing at the entrance, and said, “Use that thing on yourself again. Do it now, because I need to feel you come.”
She seemed to have forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to be the one giving the orders, because she did it. Her hand pushing aside the ribbons and bows, drawing circles, teasing, holding back the same way she’d made him do it, withholding the orgasm from both of them. She was breathing harder, her eyes were glazing over, and she was coming down over him, resting on the fingertips of one hand while the other one worked herself over, her full, white breasts held up by the bra, the nipples swollen where they spilled over the edge. Still rubbing herself over him, until he couldn’t stand it anymore.
He was a professional sportsman. All it took was finding the rhythm. He read it, and when the time was right, he thrust upward. And she slid straight down over him, gasped with shock, and said, “Wait. Wait.”
He said, “I’m not waiting. And I’m going to fuck you so hard when this brace is off. I’m going to tie you down right here, I’m going to pull your legs apart and hold you open, and I’m going to tease you and play with you and torture you until you scream.”
“Luka.” Her eyes were closed, and she was riding him, still holding that vibrator right there, and he felt the spasms starting, her muscles clenching around him. She was gasping now, saying, “Oh, God. I can’t. I can’t.”
“Yes,” he said. “You can. Do it. Take it.”
She did. And then she did it twice more. And when he was finally pumping into her with every bit of leg drive he had, she cried out, stiffened over him, squeezed him like a vise, and wailed.
Bloodyhell.
* * *
She hadto cut the neckties loose with a kitchen knife. The knots were so tight, she couldn’t undo them.
“You pulled hard,” she said once she’d got him free, examining his wrist, then bringing it to her mouth and kissing it. “You could have bruises. How are you going to explain that to Marko?”
“No worries,” he said. “It was worth it.”
He grinned at her, and she fell back on the bed, still in her lingerie, and laughed, and then he did, too. Both of them on their backs beside each other, laughing their heads off. He picked up her hand this time, kissed the back of it, and said, “That was novel, eh.”
