Page 61 of Fast Currents
Anticipation flared as he slid the silken blindfold over my forehead until it cocooned me in darkness. Being deprived of my vision helped me focus on other sensations. The cool cotton at my back. A velvety voice singing from the speakers. And the hint of lavender from the scented candle burning in the corner.
The mattress shifted beneath me. I could no longer see Clay, but at some level, I could still feel him. And I doubted he’d leave me lonely for long.
A minute ticked by. Two. I squirmed on the bed. While I could get up or remove the blindfold, it’d end the game. And I desperately wanted to see what Clay had up his sleeve.
Soft footfalls were my first clue that he’d returned. I shifted restlessly, aware that I was spread nearly naked across his bed, yet he hadn’t really touched me.
Heavy heat snaked up my ankle, along my calve to my inner thigh. Not skin. Not plastic. I struggled to place the sensation. It was hot, but not uncomfortably so. More like the gentle burn between my legs, making me ache for him.
Clay traced my body, his hands guiding the object. Slowly, it cooled, until the trail it left behind had more to do with Clay than its heat. He shifted above me, the bed rocking slightly, and returned with another hot, smooth toy, repeating the massage. Heat zipped up my thigh, and I thrust my hips forward. Empty. Aching. Needy.
Moisture slicked my body, heat from his toys transferring to my nerve endings, creating a cauldron of warmth burning beneath my skin. I thrashed beneath him, stubbornly biting my lip to keep from making demands.
The bed shifted again, and I held my breath, heart beating with anticipation. He peeled my thighs open, leaving me exposed. Ishifted restlessly, more than ready for whatever torture he had planned.
A hot object settled against my clit, and I hissed, the sound low and long, as I struggled for control. The heat against my delicate flesh sent a flush through my entire body. This time, it wasn’t smooth, but more ragged. The texture was almost too much as he gently rubbed it against my mound, stimulating my clit.
I wanted to rip the blindfold off. Know what he was pleasuring me with. It took every ounce of control I had left to let go and justfeel. Grating heat rubbed me. Gentle enough not to abrade, but firm enough to send me to the edge. Sensation gathered, energy pulling from every corner of my body and centering on the top of my pussy.
“God, you are gorgeous like this.” Clay’s voice, husky and deep, added another layer to the sensuality gripping me as he rubbed, heat and light threatening to go supernova. “So earthy. Natural.Mine.”
The promise in that last word, the possession, sent me tumbling over the edge, spasming beneath him. Gasping out an orgasm more intense than I’d ever managed on my own.
He ripped the blindfold from my eyes, his expression pure smug pleasure. “How did I know that would finish you? Me calling you mine.”
“Maybe because it’s true.” If it came on a pant, sounded more vulnerable than I intended, he refused to take advantage. He leaned in, brushing my mouth in a kiss so delicate, I wasn’t sure I’d have felt it with my eyes closed. Like butterfly wings, it fluttered softly, a gentle worship.
“That’s okay, Lucifer. I’m every bit as much yours as you are mine.”
I trailed a hand down his chest, holding his gaze as I reached his hip and crossed to his groin.
“How do you feel about being mine again?” I added a slow stroke, emphasizing my point.
“Like I’m eager to please.”
“Robertson, I love you.”
The words slipped out, utterly natural. Like I’d been saying them for years.
I sheathed him, enjoying the way his lids fluttered as I stroked his chest, positioning myself. Sinking down on his erection inch by inch, holding his gaze only made me want to say the words again. And again. Until he was sick of them.
Instead, I began to ride, his fingertips branding my hips as he helped me find a rhythm that suited us both. Rocking gently, closing my eyes, I let go, drowning in sensation. Saturated in him, until I felt like we bled together in one big, beautiful piece of artwork, emotion achingly apparent in every stroke.
Chapter 25 – Clay
Waking up with Lucy sprawled against me made the hint of a headache from the champagne dissolve instantly. It was late by the time we finally collapsed with exhaustion. But what a night.
“What are you looking so smug about?” Lucy muttered.
My eyes narrowed into slits. “What do you think?”
“If this is the part of the morning where you expect a glowing review, I’m not that girl.”
“That’s okay.” I dropped a kiss on her forehead, hiding my smile from her wary gaze. “You screamed enough last night that you’re still hoarse. That’s proof enough for me.”
She smacked a palm against my chest, but without any real force behind it. “I did not,” she protested, sounding grumpy that I’d called her out.
“You absolutely did,” I said smugly. “If Jack Reynolds high-fives me by the mailboxes today, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
