Page 106 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

He pushed my knees up and out, exposing me to him completely.

“I feel really naked,” I said.

“You are, and I love it.” He bent down and kissed me. Featherlight kisses meant to torment, leave me begging for more. When I jerked into his mouth, he smiled and kissed but didn’t yield. “Not yet, my love.”

He released his grip on my knees and moved up my stomach, the hair on his jaw scraping my skin, setting it on fire, his beautiful, shapely lips pressing everywhere. My fingers grazed through his hair as his mouth landed on my breasts. His tongue twirled around the metal ring, and when he flicked my bound nipple, my head jolted off the desk.

“Easy, baby.” He laughed, but his tenderness reappeared. “Does that hurt?”

“No, keep going, tiger.” He laughed again and kissed my chest, gradually moving down my body. I knew where he was headed. I wanted it, but it also meant my annihilation. He began with a light lick, and I groaned.

“Not a sound, my kitten. Let’s see if you can manage that.” His warm tongue ran through the cold, wet beads, and my entire body stiffened. He swirled his tongue on me just like I had a few moments ago.

“Cheater. You stole my technique,” I whispered.

“Yeah? Are you complaining?”

“No, not me.” He took the flesh tenderly between his teeth before turning it over to his soft lips, and I was ready to accept defeat. I had to stop it.

“There’s a condom in my bag.” I panted. “From the ones you left at my place.”

“What’s the rush?” he asked, exploring a new zigzag route with his tongue.

I took my lower lip between my teeth to stop the loud moans from escaping my throat before pushing him away.

“Ah, was that the tigress’ slap?”

I swung my legs back together and stole a few quick breaths.

“We need to level the playing field. Get the condom.”

He smiled and kissed me before walking to the couch where I had put my bag, his disheveled appearance making him sexier. His cute butt peeked from below his shirt, and the tie around his neck had lost its shape and purpose. He was perfectly naked and heavy. I touched myself at the sight while he stroked himself, our eyes locked. Then he rolled on the rubber.

I jumped off the desk. He swung me around and lifted my right leg to rest on the cool wood, bending it at the knee. Then, coaxing me down, he entered. But unlike the torturous experience for the poor tigress, my tiger filled me up smoothly until he was hot and tight inside me. He slipped up the band of my bra, freeing my breasts from their cage, but the nipple rings stayed intact.

He kneaded ever so gently. When he found his rhythm, he pulled an arm around me, sucking on my earlobe and kissing my nape. His pulse quickened as he increased the pace, his breath on my back adding another layer of sensuality. Unintentional, but oh, so good. I was losing fast. He put his palm flat on my back and leaned me over the desk, pumping deeper, faster, making more contact with my core. I knew I wouldn’t last long. He knew it too.

I had to prolong it by distracting myself. Instantly, I summoned the multiplication table of seventeen. It had vexed me most as a child, and I had still not mastered it.

Seventeen twos are thirty-four, seventeen threes are …add, my mind prompted … fifty-one. Seventeen fours are …fifty-one plus seventeen…sixty-eight. It was working. I was pleasantly focused on the table, and I felt him throb. I had to hold on for a few more seconds, a minute perhaps, until he gave in. Maybe I could hasten it. I clenched my pelvis and continued counting.

“Seventeen fives are eighty-five.”

“What?”

“Nothing, keep going.”

“Are you doing multiplication in your head?”

“No. Move faster.”

Seventeen sixes are…ah, shit, what was seventeen fives?

“Tara…are you doing what I think you’re doing?” He thrust harder.

“I’ve no idea what you mean.”

Okay, back to seventeen into five…eighty-five.

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