Page 50 of Crave

Twenty minutes later, I knelt on the bedroom floor in our apartment. I couldn’t look away from the hard ridge in Patrick’s slacks as he slowly, deliberately unbuckled his belt. Metal sounded on metal with a clink of finality.

The lights were out, and a rim of red sunset gleamed through the open window

Under my short skirt, my pussy pulsed in anticipation. My bare knees wriggled against the soft carpet. We’d chosen a rug with a thick, cushy pile for exactly this reason. So I could kneel for him, crawl to him, without the added bite of a hard floor.

When I reached for his zipper, he gripped my wrist. “Not ’til I say so.”

You could say his reaction was predictable, but even now, I didn’t always know what to expect with Patrick. He kept me off-balance in the bedroom. He loved to toy with me, playing games and wreaking havoc with my response.

But we hadn’t done it in awhile. Between the stress of planning our wedding, the pressures of dealing with our families, and the responsibilities of work, our lovemaking — when it happened — had been gentle and sweet. Tender.

All teddy bear, no wolf.

Now, his voice was cold. Merciless. ““I’ve gone easy on you for awhile, Christina. All soft and sweet, being so careful.” Dammit, he really was a mind reader. His grip tightened on my wrist. “I’m not going easy on you anymore.”

An involuntary moan dropped from my lips.

“Take your shirt off.” The words were quiet, but knife-edged. “Look at me while you do it.”

Gazing up at him, I pulled my sleeveless silk blouse over my head. Cool blue eyes roved over my sweaty skin.

“And the bra.”

Quickly, I undid my lacy bra, knowing better than to look away. Our bedroom was warm, but I shivered.

Patrick’s eyes stroked me like ice. My nipples hardened into aching points.

He knew exactly how hard it was for me to sit still. How impatient I got. Squirming under his stare, I reached for his fly again.

“Hands behind your back, girl,” he ordered.

I obeyed, my eyes glued to the bulge in Patrick’s slacks. Like me, he was dressed up for his work day. Patrick always dressed carefully.

His zipper came down with a scrape. My mouth watered as he freed his cock from his boxers.

Heat curled through me at the sight of the big, carved shaft so close to my lips. I squeezed my hands into fists behind my back, clenching my thighs together. My pussy was damp just from the clean scent of his slacks, the musk of his cock and heavy balls, the smell of his leather belt, all within licking distance.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

Impulsively, I took him in my hands. His cock was hot and hard and satiny smooth. Diving face-first into his crotch, I sucked eagerly.

A sharp inhale was my reward. Involuntarily, he pushed into my mouth with a groan. His precum tasted so good, and if I sucked fast enough, maybe he’d come in my mouth…

A firm grip on my hair forced my chin up.

“You disobeyed me, Christina. I’m not happy.”

Liar. His dick was rigid in my mouth, and a flush stained his pale cheeks. It took a lot to get Patrick to flush.

I sucked harder, wanting his pleasure and my punishment all at the same time. My head spun with excitement.

He moved back abruptly, pulling his cock from my lips. Scooping me up, he threw me on the bed.

“Arms above your head.” His voice was as cold as a winter wind.

Dizzy with need, I obeyed. Swiftly, Patrick lashed my wrists to the headboard with the rope he kept in his nightstand. I arched toward him, half-naked and aroused.

Huge hands snaked down my body, deliberately fondling my breasts. Every movement saidmine.When he rubbed his thumbs over my nipples in slow circles, smiling coldly as they puckered even tighter, I moaned. Loudly.

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