Fighting Attraction
Page 58

    “I want to share something else with you.” His hand slips under my shirt, and he flicks the catch on my bra. “Something I haven’t shared before.”
    A tremor of desire runs through me and I smile. “What is it?”
    He kisses me and eases me off his warmth and onto my back on the table. “Me.”
    “I thought I knew all your secrets,” I tease. “There’s more?”
    “Do you trust me?” He rolls off the table and pulls me to sit.
    “Yes.” I say it without hesitation. “I trust you.”
    “Take off your clothes. Lie down on the blanket. Arms over your head. Legs spread.”
    I frown at his determined expression, but I do what he says. He disappears for a few moments and returns with a few lengths of soft cloth. Without speaking, he ties my wrists and ankles to the outer edges of the table.
    “You would make a nice display for our clients.” He points to the Plexiglas ceiling above me.
    “Jack!” Uneasiness nips at my stomach. “What are you going to do?”
    “I want to love you without the pain.” He leans over and kisses me lightly. “Close your eyes.”
    My pulse kicks up a notch when he ties the blindfold around my eyes, but before I can panic, Jack presses his lips to my ear. “I want you to feel what I see. I want you to know that you are worth so much more than you got from the people in your life. You are strong. You are brave. You are worth loving. You are the kind of woman that deserves to have a man on his knees.” His hands press against my inner thighs, and I feel his breath teasing my pussy, his tongue flicking lightly over my clit.
    My hands clench around the ties as he runs his hands over me.
    “Hang on.” He slides his tongue up one side of my clit and down the other, until my tissues feel swollen and tight.
    “Jack.” I groan at the erotic sensation.
    “Shh.” His fingers curl around my hips, his thumbs opening my labia, exposing my clit to the firm stroke of his tongue. Pressure builds inside me, and my thighs tremble.
    “So sweet,” he says. “But I’m getting carried away.”
    He touches me all over, a gentle caress on my neck, a squeeze on my breasts, and a stroke over my stomach. I moan, and he draws my nipple into my mouth, biting and sucking until I arch up on the table.
    “Did you like my whiskey?” He sucks the other nipple until it peaks.
    “Yes. It was delicious.”
    “Like you.” He blows a soft breath over my clit and gives it a little lick that shoots me right to the edge in a heartbeat.
    “Do I taste like whiskey?”
    He chuckles and then I feel a splash of cold liquid on my breast, followed by the warm slide of his tongue. “You do now.”
    His lips press against mine. Cool, sweet liquid follows into my mouth. I choke at first, and swallow. He kisses me again, dripping whiskey into my mouth, and licks it from my lips.
    “I could get drunk on you.” Whiskey splashes into the hollow at the base of my throat, trickles down my neck. He follows it with his mouth, sucking and lapping, leaving no inch of my skin untouched.
    My hips come up off the table, and I whimper. I am wet, throbbing, my core pulsing with a delicious ache.
    With a rough press of his hand over my hips, he pushes me back down. “Do I have to tie your hips down, too?”
    “No. I just… I can’t take it anymore. I need to come.”
    Droplets fall on my taut nipples, slide down my breasts in an erotic caress. “I’ve only just started. I’m a big man.” He chuckles softly. “It takes a lot to get me drunk.” He licks the liquid away, warming my skin with his tongue.
    “How about you make me come and then you get drunk?”
    He alternates drops of cool whiskey and warm kisses down my chest and my stomach. I hold my breath when his chin grazes my mound. And then he’s gone.
    I whimper, and he kisses the inside of my thigh.
    “I’m getting closer,” he murmurs.
    “Closer to being drunk?” I would part my legs wider, tilt my hips higher, open myself more, but I am tied to the table in the position he wants me to be in, and the knowledge I can’t move only adds to my arousal.
    “Closer to giving you what you want.” He pulls me open and pours a stream of cool whiskey over my clit.
    My brain fuzzes with the sensation, trying to find a climax in the wave. “More.”
    “How about this?” He laps up the whiskey, flicking his tongue over my clit, through my labia, and along the insides of my thighs. It feels so good, and yet it makes me shake with need. My breasts are swollen and aching, my pussy throbbing. I am outside my body, and I need him in. It is pure erotic torture, and I want it to go on, and I want it to end.
    “Do you need me?” he whispers.
    “Yes.”
    “Do you want me?”
    “God, Jack. Yes. Yes, I want you. Now. Don’t make me wait anymore.”
    “You’re ready.” He pushes his fingers in as deep as they can go and uses his other hand to spread me wide. “Now, hold on.” He puts his tongue to my clit, and I am lost in a blaze of white-hot heat. He strokes and sucks, pushing his fingers in and drawing them out. He presses his teeth to my sensitive nub and adds a third finger, filling me, until I can’t tell pleasure from pain. I writhe on the table, so close to orgasm and yet not close enough.
    “Please.”
    “I like it when you beg.” He rips off my blindfold. “Watch yourself come. See how everyone sees you. See how beautiful you are.” I blink to clear my vision. He has changed the lights and the Plexiglas is a mirror, showing me flushed and sweaty, my lips swollen and my lids heavy with lust.