Part 11 (1/2)

”I'm thinking I'd like to kiss you stupid,” she finally said. ”Then I'd liked to get on my knees and take you in my mouth and see if I could make you feel about as weak and crazy as you make me.”

Something flared in his eyes, a wild, crazy glint. He tossed the vibrator back down and stood. ”Do it, then.”

Swallowing, she accepted the hand he offered and stood, easing in closer until she was pressed against his chest, waiting. He grinned down at her, his hair falling into his face. ”You wanted to kiss me stupid, baby girl. Have at it.”

Cupping his face in her hands, she eased up onto her toes, angling her head just a little as she pressed her mouth to his. Hmmm. The way he tasted. He was...yeah. Just amazing. Just like his voice. Whiskey-soaked addiction. Flicking her tongue against his lips, she groaned as he opened for her. Leaning in closer, she nibbled on his lower lip, nipped the upper one and then pushed inside.

He shuddered against her, but remained unmoving, impa.s.sive.

If it wasn't for the way she could feel his chest rising and falling against her, so ragged and harsh, she might think he was unaffected. If it wasn't for the way his body felt rigid, heavy with tension and need, she might think he wasn't as aroused as she was.

One drugged kiss after another-now the need pulsed inside her, a vicious ache.

When she pulled away, she paused and rubbed her cheek against his, smiling at the way his unshaven skin rasped against the softness of her own. Shooting a quick look at his eyes, she s.h.i.+vered a little when she saw that he was watching her, his gaze so focused, so intense.

She pressed a kiss to his chin, down his neck. Along the sleek muscled lines of his chest. ”You know, for a piano player, you sure are cut,” she teased. ”What do you do, lift the pianos or something?”

”I chase after smart-mouthed web designers,” he muttered, swatting her on the a.s.s.

”I don't think that would make you look quite like this,” she said, sighing as she smoothed her hands over his chest. The silver hoop in his nipple was gone, replaced by a barbell. Tugging on it, she watched as a fine tremor racked his body. ”I like this.”

He cupped the back of her head in his hand, guided her mouth to his nipple.

She caught the bit of metal between her teeth, tugged on it again, a little harder this time, and satisfaction pulsed through her as he hissed out a breath.

Looking up at him, she saw that his head had fallen back, the thick black hair falling away from his face, eyes heavy lidded, mostly closed.

Going to her knees, she reached for his belt buckle, then unsnapped, unzipped his jeans. Tugging them down to just below his a.s.s, she caught him in her hand, pumped once. Twice. Then she leaned in and licked him.

”Open your mouth,” he growled, pus.h.i.+ng his hand into her hair.

She did, just a little. Enough to lick his head. He b.u.mped demandingly against her lips. ”Open your mouth, Chaili. I want to see you with my c.o.c.k in your mouth. I want to f.u.c.k that pretty mouth and I want it now.”

Hunger was a beast in her belly as she did as he ordered, opening for him, her lips stretching wide as he pushed deep inside. He cupped her head between his hands and started to move, thrusting his c.o.c.k in, out. She would have groaned if she could. Would have sighed. As it was, she couldn't stay still, the need was too much. Still cupping him in one hand, she reached down and circled her c.l.i.t with her fingers.

”Don't,” he warned. ”You want this...you wanted to take me in your mouth, now do it. You can come later.” He slowed, pulling back, until he'd pulled completely out.

She groaned, trying to follow, but he wouldn't let her. ”Is that a problem?”

”No,” she snarled, reaching for him again.

”Do you want me to come in your mouth?”

Her lashes flickered and she licked her lips. h.e.l.l, he just didn't have any hesitation, did he? ”Yes.”

”Good.” This time, when she reached for him, he let her and he stroked deep into her mouth. Harder. Faster, until her eyes burned from it and her throat felt battered, but she loved it.

She went to let go of him again, her c.l.i.t burning and tight.

”Don't you f.u.c.king dare touch yourself,” he ordered. ”That's for me, you hear?”

She whimpered around the c.o.c.k in her mouth, but stopped, instead reaching up and gripping his thigh, her nails biting into his flesh. His groan sounded like it was torn out of him and his hands tightened in her hair. He pushed deep, held still.

Then, as he started to come, as her body screamed for oxygen and its own release, she stared up at him. He was still watching her, those golden eyes hungry and hot.

She left him all but devastated. Drained. Empty. And ready to fill himself up with her. With everything she was.

As he let go of her hair, she eased back and remained where she was, on her knees, leaning in to press her cheek to his thigh. His c.o.c.k twitched as he felt the soft caress of her breathing drift over him.

No. He wasn't empty, after all.

Urging her to her feet, he kissed her, reaching down to cup her in his hand, and he groaned as he felt how wet she was. ”You like doing that.”

”Yes...”

”How much?”

”Enough to want to do it again. And again.”

She watched him with a lazy, lambent look in her eyes as he curved one hand over her hips.

”It's my turn now. On the bed. In the middle. Move back,” he told her, closing his eyes, jerking himself under control. He wanted more than just a hot, erotic f.u.c.k with her. He wanted her to understand she was still beautiful...and he'd already realized that she didn't believe that anymore.

He wanted her to understand she was amazing.

He wanted to push her to the edge...and maybe let her take him there as well. He'd never danced to the line with anybody, but wouldn't mind going over it with her.

Stripping his jeans away, he kicked them off and draped them over the chair positioned by her bed. He'd already noticed she was pin neat about things. Wasn't going to clutter up the pretty little s.p.a.ce she had. Moving to the bed, he picked up the scarf and moved closer, grabbing one ankle. ”You've got a perfect bed,” he said softly. ”For this...”

The thick, black fringe of her lashes drooped down, s.h.i.+elding her eyes as he tied her left ankle to the bottom post of her bed. He checked, making sure she had plenty of room in case she jerked on it as she started to move. ”Feel okay?'

She nodded, her breath coming in uneasy pants.

”Good.” He slid a hand up her calf. ”You have more of these scarves?”

”In my dresser,” she whispered. ”Bottom left drawer.”

He left her lying there and returned with a handful of scarves, the pretty, colorful bits fluttering in his grip. He used a blue one on her right ankle. Two black ones on her wrists. As she was spread out, bound and open for him, he stood back to admire her.

He caught one more scarf, this one in bright, murder red and pushed it into her right fist. ”I want to gag you,” he said quietly. ”Blindfold you. If you want me to stop, drop the scarf.”

She shuddered, then nodded, clutching the scarf in her hand.

Two more scarves, one around her eyes, the other around her mouth, partly between her lips, her mouth open just enough, the scarf biting into her skin, just enough... ”Too tight?”

She shook her head.

”Can you move much?”

She tried, tugging against the bonds.