Page 83 of Take It Offline

“Good, okay. I also thought we could use this.” He sets the headphones on the bed, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silk sleep mask. My mind races two steps ahead, and my clit throbs.

“I already have blindfolds.”

“Are they as nice as this?” he challenges. “Lift your head.”

I do.

As he slips it over my eyes, my lips part with a gasp. The mask blocks out the light and his eyes, but his deep, seductive scent keeps me calm, even as fireworks explode in my belly. He’s barely touched me, and I’m already dripping.

“How do you feel?”

So, so good.

“Gonna need a verbal, sweetheart.”

I can hear him smiling, the little shit, but I’m so damn turned on it’s hard to do anything but moan. “Good, Charlie. It feels really good.”

His touch is still infuriatingly light as he draws his fingers along my skin, from my elbows, up my arms, brushing my neck.I stretch up, trying to get more of his touch, pulling the cuffs tight, only for him to pull away and start over.

He’s taking great pleasure in drawing this out. I want to interrupt. Take over. Take charge.

I hold my tongue.

After several more seconds pass, I have to say something, have to know what is going on.

“Charlie,” I whine.

“Yes?”

He’s such a tease.

“I want more.”

His hand stills.

There’s nothing but the sound of our breaths and the heat of him. He’s close, but I can’t tell where. The air between us is heavy. I’m ready to tear out of these binds, throw him down on the floor, and demand what I want. But all I can do is flex my fists and wait.

Then he’s touching me again, ghosting the same soft caress between my breasts. I groan in frustration, and when Charlie chuckles in response, I scowl behind the blindfold.

I shiver as his mouth brushes my ear and he whispers, “You’re not in charge right now, sweetheart.”

“If I was, this would be going a lot faster,” I grumble.

He hums, pleased, kissing my jaw, mouthing along my neck.

“You’re being very methodical about this,” I rasp, my voice catching as he sucks a bruise along my collarbone.

“Haven’t you heard it’s about the journey, not the destination?”

He circles his tongue around my nipple and gives it a wet kiss, then moves to the other.

I arch my back, needing more of his mouth. “Someone made that up so we’d all pretend to enjoy long, cramped plane rides. Not sex.”

He chuckles, low and deep, and it rumbles through my stomach as he moves lower. When he presses his lips to the inside of my thigh, there’s no stopping the whimper that escapes me. His breath ghosts hot over my aching pussy. He’s so close.

Another kiss, higher this time. My pulse picks up. I want to thrust forward into his mouth, force his lips to my clit, but I can’t.

“If you’re always in a rush to get to the end,” he says, his voice gravel, “you miss the best part.”

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