There was only a whisper of sound as he pushed the fabric off her shoulders, again, without the skin to skin contact she so desperately craved. If he would just touch her with his fingers... But he didn’t. In fact, he wasn’t doing anything.
She shifted slightly, pressing her inner thighs closer together. Her nipples hardened and stood out in a desperate plea for his attention.
“So pretty,” he crooned. The backs of his fingers just barely brushed across the stiff tips of her breasts. Even through the fabric of her new lace bra (she’d made her first-ever foray into Victoria’s Secret this week on a whim) it was enough to have her inhaling sharply.
His fingers left her again (punishment?) and she had to bite her lip to keep from begging. Fantasizing about him all week and then taking him in the car had pushed her very close to the limits of what she could bear.
After several minutes of torturous nothing, she felt the skirt around her waist loosen and drop to the floor. A low hiss sounded from down around her knees, and she knew that he had discovered the matching (and now thoroughly drenched) scraps of silk that comprised her panties.
She heard him inhale deeply, felt the brush of his hair along her upper thighs. She briefly considered grasping his head with both hands and grinding herself into his face, but before she could work up the courage, he was standing again, tracing the lace outline of her bra.
With his tongue.
“You taste so good, Mary,” he groaned. He licked up one side, came down on the other, dragging the process out until she was panting. “My own personal feast. All mine. Just for me.”
His husky, possessive words unleashed another wave of wetness, of desire, of dizziness. Then she felt his face in the depths of her cleavage, and realized he was unfastening the front closure.
With his tongue.
The cups were peeled away slowly. Suddenly his mouth was on her, sucking one nipple into his mouth so hard it bordered on the pleasurable side of painful. This time she didn’t think about it; she instinctively gripped his head and arched into him.
He released her immediately and untangled her fingers from his hair. “Uh-uh-uh,” he scolded. “No touching.” She felt something soft and thick (fur?) closing around her wrists and then a very telling “snick”. Handcuffs?
“No peeking, no talking, no touching,” she moaned. “I don’t like it.”
The whoosh of air came a split second before she felt the light sting against her backside. No, not sting. Stings. As in more than one. Her mind searched desperately to make sense of it. Hadn’t she just read about something like this? A flogger? Cat o’ nine tails?
Her mind was halted from considering the matter further when she felt it again, sharper this time. A soft cry left her lips.
“It’s punishment. You are not supposed to like it,” he said darkly. She shivered, her traitorous body dampening even more for him. There was no pain, only a lingering tingle. The real punishment was having to remain still.
There were no more strikes. No more words, but she could hear him breathing, heavier now than before. Then her panties were viciously ripped away. Aidan uttered a series of oaths around her hips as her true state of anticipation was revealed. None of them were in English; she wasn’t sure of the language, but the sounds were both smooth and guttural at the same time, an exquisite blend of reverence and decadence that only made her burn that much hotter.
She knew that he had discovered her surprise: she was bare. Bare and smooth. She had heard his request, taken it to heart, and done this in the hopes that she would have the chance to show him.
Big hands wrapped around her upper arms and gently, but firmly, eased her backward onto the bed. The cool feel of satin beneath her scorching flesh was welcome. She felt the heat of his body as he leaned over her and lifted her arms above her head. When he released them, she realized he had secured them to the bedpost.
“Aidan...” Her voice trembled, suddenly overcome with a feeling of powerlessness. Yes, he had been commanding before, but this was different. Perhaps she’d been fooling herself, but the last time he had assumed control she felt like she could have stopped him if she wanted to.
But wasn’t that exactly what she wanted? Fantasizing about it was one thing, but actually doing it...
“Relax, Mary,” he breathed, his big hands stroking gently down her body. “You are safe with me. Relax and let me pleasure you.”
The tender caresses and his spoken assurance were exactly what she needed. She nodded and did her best to sink into the feel of his skillful touch.
*
When she was suitably pliant, Aidan wedged himself between her legs, anticipation riding him hard. His latest discovery sent a powerful thrill through him, running the length of his spine, electrifying the heavy, aching parts of him between his legs, and shooting down to where his feet were grounded solidly in the thick carpet.