Page 61 of Surrender
With trembling hands, I instruct him to hop up onto the counter. He does as he’s told and holds his two fists out to me. I begin wrapping the rope around his wrists, cinching them together and nervously looking up into his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because whatever you’re doing, it’s working,” he husks.
My eyes dart down to take in the straining erection under his jeans. “Just this does it for you?”
He shrugs. “You do it for me, Tre.” He swallows slowly and pins me with a serious look. “You should see yourself right now. What are you thinking about?”
I pause to take in the full effect of his wrists bound together. His muscles and broad shoulders tight and flexed. The soft jeans. Bare feet. It’s all…really, really hot.
“I think this is really freaking exciting,” I croak, totally unsexy. His pleased laugh has me rolling my eyes. “Try to contain your amusement and lie down, please.”
He smirks and shifts back on the counter. The movement has his abs bunching and showcasing the rivets of his perfect six-pack beneath his fisted, trussed-up hands. When he lies down on his back, he winces at the cool granite and the rivets become softer and more spread out.
I slide my hands on his forearms and pull them up to rest above his head. The effect of seeing him laid out like this at my mercy is incredible. “God, you are sexy.”
He chuckles. “So are you.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m in a T-shirt and jeans.”
He shakes his head and looks up at the lights. “Still sexy.”
I try to hide my pleased smile as I pull my shirt up over my head and slide my jeans down my hips. It’s amazing how we’ve only had sex a handful of times and I’m already so comfortable being naked in front of him. At first, I thought I’d want the blindfold again tonight, but feeling his heated gaze on me is part of where I draw my bravery from. Gareth has a way of making me feel like a million bucks just by looking at me. He did it that night I caught Cal cheating on me, and he’s doing it tonight. He makes me feel impossibly strong.
Wearing nothing but my grey bra and black thong, I stand beside a half-naked Tarzan who’s tied up on a kitchen counter like my own personal buffet. I drag my nails down his furry chest, raking over the springy muscles appreciatively. He is such a glorious specimen of a man. So masculine and powerful, like he was fathered by the legendary Atlas himself.
Gareth’s eyes are on me as I crawl up onto the counter and position myself astride his groin, a leg curled up snugly next to his hips. “Keep your hands above your head,” I state, dipping my fingers inside the glass and grasping a large, dripping ice cube.
Air hisses between his teeth as a few drops of freezing water drizzle onto his chest. I press the cube between his pecs and drag a moist path of water all the way down to his navel. My hair tickles his sides as I bend down and drop a soft kiss on his hard, tiny nipples. I’ve noticed Gareth’s nipples are extremely sensitive, and I’ve been daydreaming all week about how he reacts when I touch them.
I continue my path downward along the ridges of his abs, my own nipples hardening inside my bra as he writhes beneath me. He twines his fingers together above his head, and his arm muscles flex with every squeeze he makes as he fights the urge to lower them and touch me.
Suddenly, my bra feels heavy on my skin. “Close your eyes,” I state, dropping the ice in the glass and reaching back for the clasp.
He narrows his gaze but obeys. I slip out of my bra, then grab a piece of ice and put it into my mouth. I lie down overtop of him, the ice peeking out between my lips as I slide it down the thick column of his throat.
His low groan vibrates against my chest as my hard nipples brush against his damp skin. The skin-on-skin contact is intoxicating as the ice melts to nothing in my mouth. “Does this feel good?” I ask, dragging my tongue along a thick tendon in his throat.
He thrusts his hips up into me, his erection pressing the needy part of my centre. “That should tell you your answer.”
With a little growl, I sit up and eye him in silent warning. “I want to hear you say it, Gareth.”
His lazy smile is adorable. “Yes, Treacle. It feels good. You feel good.”
I reach down to the firmness beneath me. “Should we get these tight jeans off?”
“Yes,” he pants, his eyes hooded as he watches me stroke him firmly over the fabric.
He brings his arms down as I reposition myself beside him. As he lifts his hips, I shimmy his jeans down his ass and off his legs, smiling proudly when I see he’s not wearing underwear, as usual.
I ditch my panties as well and take a moment to realise that I’m completely naked on the kitchen counter of Gareth Harris’ home. What a wild turn my life has taken. I’m not sure I could be any luckier as I stare at his hard cock bobbing up toward his chiselled stomach, the vein underneath looking angry and promising all at once.
I dig in the glass for more ice. Most of it has melted, so I bring it to my lips for a cool drink and grab the small chunks at the bottom. Without a word, I dip my head and slip the tip of his bare cock into my mouth.
“Oh fuck,” Gareth groans, the coldness of the ice and the hotness of my mouth tipping him into sensory overload. “Jesus, Sloan.”
His fingers find my hair as he rides my movement. A few pieces of ice slip out of my mouth and fall on the counter below him. I release him and chomp down on the remaining ice while fisting him in my hand. “Treacle or Tre, Gareth. I’ve told you this.”
“Sorry, Tre. Treacle. Got it,” he states, his eyes landing on me with a worshipful, apologetic look.
