Page 80 of Claimed
“Can I …” I bite my lip. “Caine, I want to taste you.” I raise my eyes to find his jaw tight. Clenched. “Please.”
When he doesn’t speak, I take it as permission and lower myself to my knees before him. He is so warm even across the space between us. I grip his shaft and lick across his darker tip. He hisses. I tremble at the sound and slide him into my mouth.
He tastes of spice and dark chocolate. And as I swallow more of him, the scent permeating his skin grows until it fills my nose. Until I know I will never get him out of my senses.
My body.
My heart.
I slide back off when I can take no more and work him in my hand. His hips jerk as my palm twists along his sensitive flesh. From base to tip and back. I marvel at his heat. The alabaster hue of him.
And when I can’t stand waiting any more, I swallow him down again. His hand closes in my hair and he bucks into my mouth. The sensation is dominant. Demanding I take him all. When I want to tap his thigh, to give in to my body’s needs, he pulls me back off of him slowly and I suck in a deep lungful of air.
I roll my eyes up to his face and his jaw is slack, his eyes luminous.
“You may enjoy that as much as I do,” he says softly, his knuckles stroking my cheek.
My lips curve and I lick the sensitive line under his tip. He growls and hauls me to my feet with one hand in my hair.
The pressure borders on painful, but he is careful, practiced. He urges me to the chair I was originally tied to and forces me into the seat. I blink. He grabs the discarded ropes, the synthetic cords made of shiny black. With deft motions, he secures my arms in place.
I pull against the ropes. “Caine.”
His eyes flare. “I fear you brought this on yourself, angel,” he tells me. He produces a strip of black fabric from somewhere and walks behind me. My breathing speeds.
“Caine, what are you doing?”
He wraps the fabric over my eyes and the room disappears. I stiffen.
“Do you trust me, angel?” he asks, his breath hot on the shell of my ear. I try to turn my head, to lean against him. His chuckle is dangerous. “Do you trust me?”
My heart slams into my ribs.
Do I?
“Yes.” The word is so soft. But I know he won’t hurt me. Not Caine.
His fingers trail over my bare shoulders and gooseflesh raises along my skin. I tremble. Heat dances down my arms, along my knees. My ankles. Places that should not be erotic are hyper sensitive.
He takes his time, swirling his touch across my collarbone as he kisses my neck. Nibbles the shell of my ear. I shift in place as the ache in my core grows.
The light touch of heat slides up my inner thighs and my breathing quickens until every inhale is rasping. Harsh past the blood roaring in my ears. But he stops just shy of where I need him. Where I crave him.
I sob. “Caine, please.”
His hand grips my hair, blunt nails scraping lightly at my scalp before even that fades to gentle strokes through my locks. The combination is heady. Both sides of Caine working together to tease me as only he can.
He leans over my shoulder, tilting my head back before his lips brush mine. I moan, needing his kiss. He swipes his tongue over my lips and I open eagerly as his tongue dives deep to dance with mine. I tremble, arching and wishing the ropes were gone so I could hold him closer. Keep him against me.
His mouth lifts from mine. I cry out in denial. In frustration.
Heat blossoms over my knees. Those long-fingered hands slide up my thighs. Not the silk of his magick, but something more real. Substantial.
Teeth nibble at my knees before the silken tendrils of his hair trail over my skin. He sets his teeth again into the muscle in my thigh. The slight edge of pain is lost under the tickle of warmth as it trails between my breasts.
I groan and try to rock my hips, needing to relieve the ache.
His hands close over my hips. The strength in his touch is like iron as he forces me to still. That tickle slides down, down. The barest touch slithers over my apex.
