Page 32 of Moon Blind Hearts
My thighs clench violently as he talks me through it, stroking that ice cube along my skin, leaving trails of water where it touches. As it moves along my flesh, another sensation joins, that of something rough stroking along my ankle.
“Leather,” he muses as I still, trying to focus on it. As if to clarify, he lifts what must be a crop and gently taps it against my skin.
Oh. Oh! I shift on the table, trying my best not to run away from the sensations as they start to overwhelm me. The ice cube trails along my breast, and then suddenly, warmth envelopes my nipple. A mouth gently sucking there. The moan slips from my lips so suddenly, there’s no chance to hold it in.
He chuckles against my skin, pleased with my reaction. “So beautiful that sound,” he purrs, barely pausing his kiss. “So full of promise.”
Oak was right. I don’t know how long I can last with this, not because it’s overwhelming, but because all I can think about is getting this man inside me. Desperation has me rubbing my thighs together, my wetness pooling so fast, I don’t know how to prolong it. I’m hungry for him, and the more he touches me, the more that hunger grows until I’m frantically clawing at the table.
The crop trails along my thighs, reaching the edge of my skirt before tracing beneath it, stroking skin that I need touched. When it trails along my pussy beneath the skirt, I nearly come unglued, my back arching off the table.
“There she is,” Sawyer murmurs, trailing his lips along my stomach, chasing the path of the ice cube. “Raw, hungry for my touch, desperate for it.” He pauses long enough to, I assume, look at the cameras. “Are you touching yourselves, beauties? Are you imagining my lips on your skin?”
I groan when his hands move along my body, amplifying the sensations. “Please,” I breathe.
He chuckles. “Taste is also heightened when sight is gone,” he continues, shuffling around when his lips leave my skin. The ice cube disappears, but the crop continues to trace my pussy beneath the skirt.
I sense his approach before I feel it, his body warmth growing as he moves closer to my head. When he presses something against my lips, I open without complaint. The sharp burst of chocolate explodes in my mouth, somehow making my toes curl. The moment I finish licking the chocolate icing from my lips, his are pressing against mine in a kiss that rocks me to the core. He tastes that icing on my lips, taking it from me as his tongue sweeps inside my mouth. My heels dig into the wooden table and it takes everything inside me not to wrap my arms around his neck and drag him over top of me.
“Please,” I croak against his lips, hungry for more, desperate for it. “I need you.”
His breath wooshes from his lips and he pulls back. “I promised a feast, beautiful.”
I’m not prepared for the way he moves to the bottom of the table, for the way his hands wrap around my ankles and start to trail up my legs. His hands stroke my skin, along my tattoos, as if he’s memorizing every sensation. Is this what it’s like for him every time? Is sex this good because he can’t see?
I can’t ask him because I’m too consumed with the feeling of him moving closer and closer to my pussy. When his hands reach my knees, he pulls them open, spreading me around his shoulders as he moves in between them. His hands wrap around my knees and he drags me down the table, spreading me wider.
He takes a deep breath, and I try my hardest not to clench up with self-consciousness.
“You smell fucking divine,” he rasps. “So goddamned sweet.”
His lips press against the inside of my knee and I nearly come undone with the single touch. But nothing can prepare me for the feeling of him trailing down my inner thigh, kissing a path that he suddenly follows with ice again. The ice trails down my thigh, driving me insane, before he presses it against my hot pussy without warning. My back arches as I cry out, and before I can so much as complain, he presses it inside me.
“Good girl,” he moans.
It melts inside me, leaking out as my hot pussy turns it to water. Before it can grow hot again, he presses another inside, and then his lips seal around my opening.
I’m a strong bitch. I’ve dealt with all kinds of things. I’ve done some questionable scenes for this work. But never have I had someone so thoroughly play my body like an instrument. The shaking is the first clue that I’ve lost this battle, but the orgasm that slams into me is the second. I cry out, grasping at the table with surprised arousal as my pussy clenches beneath his lips.
He groans in pleasure as I lose control, and shoves his face against me deeper, running his tongue against my overstimulated clit. The orgasm doesn’t drop. It shoots higher, making my body convulse beneath him as he continues to feast on me just like he said.
“Please!” I cry, my voice cracked and rough. “I need you.”
He runs his tongue along my entrance, through the coldness, drawing the warmth back in. “You want this cock inside you, beautiful?”
I nod frantically, reaching for him. His hands snap out and grab mine, stopping me. “Please?”
“This is all about sensation,” he purrs. “Can you handle that?”
I nod again, trying to reach for him despite his hold.
“Good,” he growls roughly, and then I’m being flipped. It’s easy for him, so easy that I go from lying on my back to lying with my chest pressed against the table in the blink of an eye. My breasts press against the wooden table, driving me insane with the need for more. But he doesn’t spear inside me like I want. Instead, he pulls me up, forcing me to arch, before he grabs a fistful of my breast.
“You don’t get to get off this easy, beautiful,” he growls in my ear. “Can I touch your breasts more?”
Permission, because they’re off limits for true play. “I . . . yes.”
My breastmilk hasn’t dried up yet. I’m not sure what’s going to happen if he truly plays with them, but that isn’t much of my concern. The feeling of him suddenly palming my breast and then tweaking my nipple is. Something metal touches there, and then a bite of pain follows that quickly fades into pleasure.
