Page 26 of Crave

There’s some demon he’s fighting, and it’s brought us together in this room. Naked, or nearly so.

But I picture him on top, giving me all his weight and force, and shiver with need. Scrambling off his lap, I stretch out on the narrow bed.

In one quick tug, my panties are off. His blue eyes widen in the darkness, staring between my legs. He pulls my thighs apart, stroking my puffy lips, and spreads them to expose my throbbing pussy.

A giggle of pure excitement escapes me. Instead of glaring, his face darkens with lust.

“You’re soaked.” Each word that breaks the rule of silence is a tiny arrow piercing my body. “I’ve been wanting to taste you since the first day. Let’s see how quiet you can be.”

He buries his face in my pussy.

I bite his pillow as he licks my tender flesh. His shoulders shake. The emotion coming at me is as overwhelming as his lips on my clit and his tongue in my cunt. I bury my fingers in his dark hair and close my thighs around his head, holding him while he undoes me.

As he takes me to the edge, I have to moan. Little, soft, panting moans while he sucks on my clit and teases my entrance with those beautiful fingers. He seems to understand how good it feels to have my opening massaged without being penetrated. How, even though I’m holding him close, I’m self-conscious about being eaten, and I tremble under the intensity of his mouth.

Just before I spill over into orgasm, he stops.

I reach up to him, my eyes pleading, barely catching myself before I beg out loud. He smiles.

“There’s something I want to do before you come.” He brushes his mouth over mine, sharing my juices. “Since it’s so hard for you to keep still.”

Standing abruptly, he goes to his closet. The rooms here are bare, and he has only a few clothes hung up. Taking out a robe, he pulls the sash free of its loops and stares at it for a minute in silence.

He comes to the bed and kneels above me, trailing the tip of the sash over my sensitized skin. I gasp when he pushes the fabric against my pussy, rubbing my lips and clit.

“Can I tie you up, baby?” His voice is low and throaty. “Shake your head if you don’t want me to.”

That sash in his hand is more than simple fun and games. It means something to him. An ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife? The demon he’s exorcising? God, I don’t know this man at all, not even his name, and yet I’m trusting him, naked and close to coming.

I look up into his blue eyes, gleaming in the moonlight, and thread my fingers through his hair. He crouches over me, stroking my curves.

“We don’t have to,” he reassures me. “It’s enough to touch you…to taste you.”

God, I want him. I want to see what it means to him when he uses that sash. Taking comfort that there are people in the rooms on either side, I lift my arms above my head, cross my wrists, and give him a nod.

He exhales and swiftly lashes my wrists to the bed. I feel so vulnerable as he runs his hands over my body, feeling me at his leisure. All my nerves are heightened, making it harder to keep quiet. Harder to stay still. When he rolls my puckered nipples between his fingers, I cry out and bury my face in the pillow.

I hear his soft sounds of satisfaction at being in control now. His hot hands open my thighs with more force; his firm licks on my pussy are more dominating. More invasive. Less raw and emotional. But I know that control is fragile. An illusion.

I shudder under his relentless attention, shaking uncontrollably. It’s clear that he finds my vulnerability deeply arousing, even comforting, because he can imagine he’s in charge. When he lifts his head, his face soaked with lust and my juices, I want to strip bare for him, peel back every layer of us both. I’m so close to babbling, begging for his name, telling him mine, asking for all the words.

So I bite my lip hard as he strips off his black boxers and his gorgeous cock springs free, thick and flushed. He strokes it, pointing it at my aching pussy.

“Don’t you want to come?” he asks harshly. “You’re shaking, you can’t even hold still for me. Beg for it.”

I arch my hips, thrusting my pussy shamelessly toward him, pleading with every muscle in my body.

He smiles grimly, then bends closer, cradling my face in his warm hands, playing nice now. His cock nudges my clit, and I gasp.

“Come on, baby.” His tone softens. “Come on, beautiful girl. You can have the biggest orgasm.” I whimper, and satisfaction flashes in his eyes. “I know how much your little pussy needs it. All you have to do is ask.”

On the surface, it’s cruel. He’s trying to break down my boundaries, to win. But something deeper is going on, and I’m compelled to dig in my heels and not give in. To change the course of whatever he’s playing out.

A tear rolls down my cheek, squeezed out by the sheer intensity of the situation. He growls and laps it up like he’s in the desert, thirsting for that single drop.

Tugging at the sash on my wrists, I give him an inch of concession.

Please.

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