Page 48 of Tame Me

Henry repeated his moves, each time pulling out just to the crown. His thrusts grew faster, gradually building my climax to monumental heights. A light sheen glossed his flesh and his deep primal groans grew deeper, yet he clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut, and continued to thrust.

We worked together as one, drawing out each other’s pleasure like only lovers could do. Although we’d never done this before, every move felt as if we’d been doing it forever. He knew how to please me, and by the intense focus on his face, I believed I pleased him.

Every nerve ending in my body tingled, begging for the delicious sensations to last a lifetime. My second orgasm grew quickly, gearing up for the promise of explosive things to come. I clenched my insides around his cock, desperate to feel every inch of him, and he gasped.

His thrusts grew faster, deeper. I clawed my nails up his back, and the groan that tumbled from his throat was music to my ears. Unable to hold back a moment longer, I cried out as my juices flowed for a second time.

I saw stars, I saw rockets—I saw every feature on his beautiful face.

My insides hit party mode, and I clenched around him like a vise. Henry gasped as his thrusting reached fever pitch. I pulled on my knees. He thrust in and out.

“Oh, God,” he screamed as he buried his cock into me with several final thrusts. His eyes flickered open, but I could tell he wasn’t seeing. He flopped onto my chest, his breathing desperate and ragged as I trailed my fingers up and down his back.

As we lay there, still united as one, wallowing in our after-sex contentment, a star shot across the sky and disappeared into the blackness. I closed my eyes and made a wish. My wish came easily—all I wanted was to find soul-embracing love. As Henry’s breathing returned to normal, I wondered if I already had.

It seemed like an eternity before he pushed up onto his hands, and his arms trembled as he held himself above me. “You, Jane Nichols, are an angel.”

I cupped his cheek and smiled. “Thank you.”

He grinned as he rolled to the side, and when his cock slipped out of me, it was like tearing open my heart. The deckchair was too small for both of us, though, so we sat side by side, our shoulders touching, our hands entwined. It was really sweet and comfortable, and it didn’t feel at all strange that we were both naked.

I squeezed my palm to his. “Thank you for yet another wonderful evening.”

“You too.” He nudged his shoulder to mine.

“When are you back again?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, not for a couple of weeks. We’re heading into the crazy season, and between work and Christmas commitments, I really don’t know when.”

I groaned. My heart was already weeping.

He stood and pulled me to my feet. “Come on. You need to get to work.”

“Oh, why’d you have to ruin a perfectly wonderful evening?”

“Sorry.”

We redressed, and he took my hand to lead me back inside. I kissed him goodbye, and as I made my way to my room, a dark cloud smothered my feelings as I wondered how long it would be before I saw him again.

Back in my room, I showered and then dressed for work. With a frozen dinner in the microwave, I grabbed my diary and sat at my dining table. I opened it to the 1st of November, and at the top, I wrote Mr. Henry Addison, Room 49.

I detailed my new experience of being tied up during sex and wrote about how I’d desperately wanted to run my hands over his flesh, yet not being able to had driven me crazy. I’d been at his orgasmic mercy, and it had been excruciatingly wonderful.

Giggling, I wrote Orgasmic Mercy below his name.

As I detailed our sex and how incredible it had been, I wondered if it was because I’d practically begged for him to fuck me.

Henry had masterfully crafted our sexual liaisons. He’d deliberately held back from going all the way until I was at the point where I would’ve got down on my knees and pleaded with him to make love to me. I paused with the pen above the page and blinked at that sentence.

Was that what we were doing?

Making love?

Or was it just mind-blowing sex?

As the microwave dinged and I removed my steaming Thai chicken curry, I wondered how many more times I’d see Henry before I knew the answer to those questions.

Chapter Fourteen

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