Page 31 of Night Shift

Trembling, she gripped the sheets.

But I knew she could take more. This was about repressed need, about her body responding in the most primal way.

I caught her nipple between my teeth, biting down softly at first before applying just enough pressure to make her flinch in surprise.

The feel of her writhing beneath me—helpless, completely given over to me—drove me wild with desire. But I wouldn’t allow myself to be consumed by it. Not yet. Tonight was about Sam’s pleasure first, about bringing her past the edge of reason and straight into euphoria.

“Come for me,” I commanded again, my voice rough as my hold on her throat tightened ever so slightly. My thumb brushed over her neck, pressing down on her pulse point to feel the thunderous drumming beneath.

I sucked her nipple hard to its rhythmic beat, determined to push each of her erogenous zones past their limit and prove she could come at the hands of a skilled lover without me even touching her pussy.

The urgency behind her arousal was practically a living thing between us. I could sense the tension building in her body by the way she was shaking under my touch, by the way her skin was flushed with heat.

Her body jerked beneath mine, a silent plea to let her climax.

I turned my attention to the other peak. “Shhh…” I commanded, my breath hot against her skin. “Let it go.”

Her hands clenched tighter on the sheets, her body bowing with tension until suddenly she gave a desperate cry and collapsed beneath me, trembling and quaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over her.

Feeling the tension drain out of her, I released my hold on her throat. My fingers traced patterns idly on the sweat-slicked skin of her chest and belly. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath.

Slowly, her heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm. She squirmed as my hand roamed tenderly over the flesh of her breasts and stomach. The sight was enough to ignite a fresh wave of craving in me, but I knew better than to push. Not yet.

“That was just the beginning,” I whispered huskily into the shell of her ear. “This night is far from over.”

Lying there in the aftermath of Sam’s orgasm, my cock throbbed with its own need to find gratification. I stroked it a couple of times, and a surge of satisfaction coursed through me. I’d been the first to rip an orgasm from Sam.

My gaze traveled down her body, and I took note of the way she was still shuddering from the intensity of her release and twisting her fingers in the sheets. I traced the curves of her stomach, brushing my fingers over her mound. Her hips squirmed underneath my hand, and she released a small whimper as my fingers ghosted lower. A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of my lips when I teased the sensitive skin of her swollen cleft. In response, she inhaled sharply, her body stiffening beneath me.

Ignoring the throbbing need between my own legs, I placed a hand on her hip to steady her. Then I drew circles on her lower belly, over her mound, and along the edges of her folds. I was careful not to touch her where she craved me most. Keeping Sam on edge was all a part of the game, and I intended to play it to its extreme. Her muscles twitched in anticipation as I ran my fingers over her inner thigh, relishing the soft, silky skin under my touch.

Breathing heavily against her earlobe, I whispered, “Patience,” as if saying it out loud would somehow make it easier—as if it would somehow convey how much I wanted her too.

This was a dance I was all too familiar with—an intricate balance of indulgence and restraint. It was about drawing out the tension, building up the pressure until it became too much to bear. Watching Sam writhe under my touch was the sweetest torment—the kind that left me breathless and craving more.

With each stroke of my fingers against her skin, her body reacted. I kissed her exposed hipbone, then trailed kisses across her stomach. She dug her hands into my hair, twisting it around her fingers.

She gasped when I started trailing kisses down onto her inner thighs. The small patch of hair between them glistened with wetness—a sight that strengthened my resolve to take things slowly.

“Shhh,” I whispered against her skin. “Trust me.” And despite the vulnerability of being blindfolded and naked under my gaze, she relaxed at my command, allowing her knees to fall open so that I could position myself between them.

My fingers skimmed along her legs as I brushed kisses over each hip bone. In response, her hips rose off the bed in a plea for contact. A needy groan escaped from between her clenched teeth.

Ignoring her wants, I moved up again, covering her body with mine and lowering my head to claim what I had left unattended for too long. Her nails dug into my shoulders as I kissed her. My lips were merciless on her mouth, robbing her of breath and sanity. It was intoxicating, like she was feeding off my roughness.

Pushing up over her, I chuckled at the sight of her swollen lips. Then I kissed my way back down through the valley of her breasts and to the center of her wet heat. I swirled my tongue around her clitoris, and she once again tangled her fingers in my hair. I couldn’t help but growl at the taste of her as my tongue dove into her tightness. With a fierce grip on my head, she rode my face. I felt her climax nearing and pulled back, kissing her inner thigh.

She whimpered in frustration and tried to force my mouth back to her center. “Patience, Samantha,” I reminded her. Gripping her wrists, I forced her hands from my hair and put them at her sides.

I moved up to rest an elbow to the side of her hip, placing my hand on her belly. The fingers of my other hand found their way between her legs again, stroking the damp folds of her pussy. I slipped one finger into her. The tight heat around it sent a fiery wave of desire through me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. And your juices are running down your ass,” I said, a bit astonished.

I added another finger, stretching her to accommodate me while my thumb flicked against her clitoris. Her body bucked beneath me.

Sam was a beautiful sight, and her body responded to my every touch. Here she was experiencing pure bliss, and it was all because of me.

Her hips rocked against my hand, the rhythm matching the pace of my fingers. Each stroke was precise—tantalizing her until she was near the edge again. My fingers curled inside her, finding her sweet spot. I rubbed against it at a quick tempo, keeping my thumb on her clitoris while pressing down on her belly with my other hand, intensifying the sensation.

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