Page 63 of Meet Me in Montreal

“I’ve gotten used to this already,” Vanessa responded, grasping his cock and kissing the head.

Santino groaned. “No complaints from me.”

There were no more comments or questions from him after that. All she heard were his moans of approval, telling her howgood she was making him feel as she flicked the head with the tip of her tongue to collect the salty drops that emerged. Whispers turned to louder praise as she took him in her mouth fully. Maybe she sucked too hard, pumped his length with her curled fingers too well, because his cum suddenly shot down her throat. His sharp moan of surprise was loud, but so gratifying that wetness trickled down her own thigh.

Santino staggered back, pulling out of her mouth and her hand entirely. He stroked her cheek and her hair as he fought to control his breathing.

“Damn, wifey. That was amazing. I thought we’d take it slow tonight.” Santino grinned at her, pulling her up to standing.

“I’m still up for it. What did you have in mind?”

He stroked the inside of her thigh and licked the fingers that came up glistening. “Mm. A couple things.”

Turning her around by the shoulders, he propelled her into the bedroom. The maid service had been there. The smell and feel of fresh linens were a delight as he directed her to climb on the bed.

“Don’t lie down yet.”

His beautiful gold-toned body disappeared into the vanity, and her ears perked at the sound of rustling. What could he be searching for in there? Although they’d been naked around each other for days by then, she felt exposed waiting there, unsure what he was doing or planning. Next, he crossed to the living room and disappeared from view. She heard the small fridge door open, then shut.

Before he returned to her, Santino said, “Close your eyes.” His voice was firm, with no hint of teasing. The trembling already in her body from the cold AC increased tenfold.

“What are you going to do to me?” She did as he said yet again, feeling even more exposed somehow. This was a new thing.

Santino’s directive was given in a quiet tone, but the words created a curious combination of anticipation, anxiety and deepening desire. “Whatever I want. It’s still my week,tesoro.”

The bed dipped, and she felt the heat of his nearness. “Open your eyes. Keep them on me.” When she complied, staring up into his face, he was serious, solemn. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

At that point, she stopped asking questions, but the quivering only sank deeper into her flesh, into her bones, as Santino showed her what he held in his hands. It was her scarf, the one she’d worn as a defense against him, as if that mere weave of expensive threads would ever be enough to stop her from craving his touch.

The last thing she saw before he tied it at the back of her head and covered her eyes, was a hint of a smile and his pupils wide in the low amber lamplight. The only suggestion that he was feeling the same excitement was the unsteadiness in his fingers as he finished the knot, then traced the skin from her shoulder down to her collarbone.

Plunged now in the darkness he’d fashioned, she reached a new level of vulnerability. Swallowing hard, she didn’t have to wait long to find out what would come next. He laid her down and covered her with his heavy body, delivering deep, slow kisses that left her warm and throbbing everywhere. He was all hard chest muscles and rippling abs, and she squirmed at the sensation of the rough ticklish hair on his thighs bearing down on hers and his rigid cock pressing into her belly.

She wished she could see his face as he cinched her wrists with his fingers and pressed them into the sheets on either side of her head. Unable to see his face, she had no clue what he was thinking or feeling. Maybe that was the point. Maybe without focusing her sight on him, she was free to feel everything,indulge her other senses and not worry about his reactions or what he would get out of it.

Vanessa gave herself up to it, then, to him, to the soft wetness of his tongue on her neck and then on her nipples, bringing the tips to peak hardness. He paused, and she heard something clinking like glass. When his mouth returned to her nipples with something cold trapped inside, she jumped with surprise.

Ice? Yes, it was an ice cube, alternating cold on the sensitive buds with the warmth of his tongue. Moaning, she wasn’t sure if she liked it, then suddenly, yes, she did. She liked it a lot.

“Look at that,” he rasped somewhere above her. “Look how hard they got. Does it feel good to you?”

“Yes.” The word was breathy, soft, all she could manage.

Next, he moved lower, trailing that same ice and heat down her belly to hover over her pussy. When he applied that combination to her clit, she moaned louder, her thighs falling apart for him. The ice made her nub rigid, and he sucked and licked until the ice melted and there was nothing but delicious fire.

Suddenly, he paused right as she was about to fall off the edge. By then she was a shaky mess, with her feet sliding up and down the sheets in a silent plea for release. She gyrated her hips, offering herself up to that mouth, but he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.

Santino gently mocked her with a low chuckle. “Not yet.”

He lifted off her again, to her growing frustration. That’s when he trailed something soft against her, tickling her cheeks and her lips, then her nipples and her belly button.

Giggling, even though she was being teased and tormented, Vanessa said, “That feather from the shop. I’ve been wondering what you bought it for.”

“Did you think it was for this?” he asked, briefly stroking it between her legs before running it along her arms and legs.

That gentle touch jolted her. “I hoped,” she admitted. “Ah.” He was using it on her clit, holding her lips open with his other hand for better access to the spot. He kept tickling her with it until the need bloomed higher and hotter again for the orgasm that she was seeking. It was right there, and she reached up with her hips for it until he cruelly denied her again by taking the feather away.

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