Page 56 of Black Velvet

Elene

Of course, my tears confuse him. He parts from my hot, dripping center with a final kiss, and then sits up straight, his heat-filled eyes trailing along the sweaty curves of my shaking body. I'm a good girl and never left the position he ordered me to take. My hands still meet, pinned to the floor, at the wrists above my head, with nothing except for me obeying his command as my incentive for keeping them there.

I'm writhing as I try to suppress the tears that threaten to fall. My legs are still spread wide and my tortured tits still throbbing with a slight afterburn.

He's hovering above me, blocking the light from the overhead fixture from blinding me. All I see is his gorgeous face, and his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Hey, hey," he says in a soft voice, stroking the side of my face tenderly, where a strand of hair is sticking to my wet cheek.

"I'm so—"

He beckons me to remain quiet by placing his index finger on my lips.

"You know I hate that," he whispers, using a tone of warning.

A shy smile plays at the corners of my mouth. I feel weak, as if my body has turned into jelly, and I find I’m unable to support myself when he helps me to sit up. He reaches for my arms first, finally allowing me to lower them as he gathers me up in his strong arms. I sigh with relief when his warmth surrounds me, an overriding feeling of comfort consuming my senses from being pressed against his hard chest and his muscular arms wrapped protectively around my shoulders. I close my eyes.

We remain like that, two bodies breathing in sync, locking in one another's arms. I feel as if I’m melting into him, relaxation and trust finally overturning the sting of disappointment. My eyes fixate on his rock-hard length when I open them sleepily. I reach for him on instinct, expecting him to push me aside as I reach into his lap. To my surprise, he doesn't stop me. Instead, he lets out a soft moan when I close my hand around his girth, stroking it with gentle motions.

"Why, Damon?" I breathe. "Why won't you fuck me?"

He squeezes me in his embrace. "Who said I won't?"

"Then when?" I wonder out loud, tilting my head back to look up at him. "Why not just do it now?"

The smile that encompasses his face has a tinge of somber darkness.

"I wanted to taste you as you came," he says nonchalantly. "There are too many things I wanted from you before burying my dick between your legs."

He places a finger below my chin, tilting my head back a little more before leaning down for a kiss. His lips barely touch mine, only brushing them. Even now, he's making me ask for it. I stretch up, claiming for myself what he's so reluctant to give. He doesn't retreat but welcomes my need for more. This is his game, his way of ensuring he gets everything I'm willing to give, but nothing more.

Our kiss is sensual, but also patient and almost innocent compared to the one we shared before he made me come on his tongue. I'm the one to break it, searching his gray eyes for a clue to what he seems to be hiding from me.

"Things you wanted from me," I repeat. "Past tense."

He nods with a reflective smile, but doesn't say a word.

"So, did you get everything you wanted?" I ask. "Is it time yet for me to finally get whatIwant?"

I never noticed his dimple before, the one that appears on his left cheek when he smirks in a certain way. Maybe it doesn't show with a simple smile, but only when he makes a face like the one he’s making now. There's an intimacy to that smirk, something I want to believe he doesn't share with a lot of people.

"Well, I made you dance on my fingers. I felt you climax while I was inside of you. You exploded on my tongue, I tasted you while you were riding that last orgasm," he lists, pausing as he licks his lips. "Damn, that was delicious."

I blush at the thought of him eating me out. Years in my profession should have hardened me to such eroticism, but somewhere buried deep inside me is that young, chaste schoolgirl I was before I became a high-class escort.

"And still, you look like that when I talk about the things I did to you," he says, shaking his head. "Why does it feel like I'd be corrupting you if I'd fuck you?"

"Corrupting me?"

He nods. "I might take more than you're ready to give."

"Isthatwhat you're worried about?" I ask, a bitter laugh escaping me as I shake my head at his nonsensical comment. "I may not look like it, but I can handle more than you think, Damon."

His eyes flicker, suggesting that when I speak his name, it has the same effect on him as it does to me when he says mine. There's a certain intimacy that neither one of us is accustomed to.

I increase the pressure on his cock by tightening my grip around it. The moan that flees his lips sends a tickle of pleasure radiating down into my core. I've just recovered from the most recent high he forced on me, but my body is still begging for more, still begging for him to be buried inside me.

"I might eat you alive," he breathes, as I continue stroking his massive length. "Jeez, Elene, if you keep doing that..."

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