CHAPTER TWELVE
He didn’t want the time with her to end. He didn’t want anything with her to end.
As he stepped into the elevator after dinner at an Italian restaurant that evening, he was painfully aware of the ticking clock marching towards tomorrow’s game, then Sunday morning when they’d meet Charlie at eleven, then Sunday afternoon when he’d put her on a plane and let her crisscross the country. As they reached his floor? the thought of sending her home again was like a cut inside the mouth, an annoying reminder that couldn’t be ignored. Because he wanted so much more with her. He wanted these moments to unfold every damn day.
But all he could do was make the most of this moment.
“I have a gift for you,” he said when they were inside his home.
A smile teased at her gorgeous lips. “A gift? I love gifts. However did you know?”
“Of course you love gifts,” he said, with the confidence of knowing her.
“Why do you say ‘of course?’” She leaned against the doorframe in his kitchen, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.
“Because,” he said, running his fingers across the top of her skirt. “Because you know how to enjoy things. Because you don’t deny yourself. Because you let yourself feel pleasure and want. And that’s the kind of person who likes gifts. The kind of person who knows how to enjoy life.” He lowered his head to her neck, unable to resist brushing his lips against her soft skin. She shivered, and grabbed onto his shirt, tugging him close. “My point exactly,” he added.
She broke the embrace and made grabby hands. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”
Stretching his arm around her, he scooped up the pink box that he’d left on the counter that morning. He handed her the gift, and tried his best to record every frame of her reaction. The way her eyes lit up as she ran a palm across the box, then as she untied the satiny white bow, letting it fall onto the counter. She lifted the top and peered inside.
“Ooh,” she said appreciatively, then took the black thigh-high stockings from the box, and laid the box on the counter. “Your favorite thing.”
He nodded.
“You want me to put these on now?”
“No. Save them. I need you to wear them tomorrow night.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”
“It’s my poker handicap.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t want to win tomorrow. If you’re wearing those, I won’t, because it’s all I’ll think about,” he said, brushing his fingertips from her knees up her thighs.
Her lips parted as he neared the apex of her legs, but she pressed a hand against his chest, holding him back. “I want to win fair and square. I told you that. You promised.”
“I know you do. But you don’t need to prove to me you can beat me, Julia. I’m on your team,” he said, grabbing her hand and linking his fingers through hers. “And I need you to wear those tomorrow night for me. Say you will.”
He watched her. Her shoulders rose and fell, and she didn’t speak for a moment, as if she were considering it. “Why do you have to be so damn convincing?”
“It’s my job to make a good argument.”
“You’re too good at what you do. But I’d wear them for you anyway. And since it’s evidently Christmas early at your house, I suppose it’s as good a time as any to let you know I have something for you.”
“I love Christmas,” he said as she took his hand and guided him upstairs. When she reached her suitcase, she unzipped it and dipped a hand into the inside pocket.
“This is a surprise, so close your eyes.”
He did as she said. “I love surprises too. Did you know that?”
“No. But that suits you as much as you said my loving gifts suits me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of the time you surprised me at my apartment. And then at McKenna’s wedding,” she said, as her heels clicked across the floor, and he felt her near him.
“Hold out your hands,” she told him, her sexy, sultry voice turning him on.
He opened his palms. “Put this on me,” she said, and he felt soft fabric fall into his hands.
When he opened his eyes and looked down at his hands, he breath caught. A silk scarf was in his palms, and she was stripping off her clothes. “Blindfold me,” she said.
He flashed back to their night in San Francisco last month. She’d told him it was the only thing she didn’t want to do. “The thought of it makes me feel a bit too vulnerable, and for a woman with trust issues, well, I’m not sure it’s the best kind of kink for me.”
“But you said,” he began, but his words were swallowed dry as he watched her clothes fall in a heap on the floor, and she wore only her lace panties and heels.
“I know what I said.” She ran her hand down his chest, her touch sending tremors through his body. “But things changed, and I want to do this for you. This isn’t the same as you helping me out of my troubles, but even so, I want to give you what you want. Let me do this for you.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do this to say thank you.”
“I’m not doing it to say thank you,” she said firmly. “I’m doing it because I want to give you everything you want.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice hoarse, as he fought back the desire burning inside of him for this.
“I would never do something with you that I felt I had to. Everything I do with you I want to. I have so much want for you I don’t know what to do with it all, but to give you more of it. So sit down,” she said, and began to press her hand against him. She stopped. “Wait.” Her lips curved into a wicked grin. “I don’t think your fantasy is me telling you to sit down. You tell me what to do.”
Oh, f*ck. He was done for. His body was dangerously close to overheating, and she hadn’t even touched herself. But this wasn’t his fantasy for nothing. He knew how he wanted her—al fresco. “I want you on my balcony.”
“As you wish,” she said, her eyes catching his, a spark in them as she glanced back at him and headed down the steps, giving him a perfect view of her gorgeous ass as she walked. His cock twitched hard against his jeans as he pictured all the things he wanted to do to her ass. When she reached the sliding glass door and tugged it open, she cast her gaze to the outdoors, then crooked a finger, beckoning him.
“On the lounge chair,” he told her, and she crawled across the cushions. He kept his eyes on her the entire time, savoring every move of her body as cars and cabs raced by five flights below. If he peered over the brick railing he could watch the Manhattan night roll along, the people walking down the cobblestoned street in the Village. But he wasn’t looking anywhere except at her. She shifted to her back, her red hair fanning out over a pillow, her long, luxurious body stretched across the wooden lounge chair. A warm breeze floated through the dark night, blowing wisps of hair across her cheek.
He straddled her, running the end of the silk blindfold over her belly, her breasts, then her throat, so the fabric teased her skin. Gently, he pressed the material over her eyes. She lifted her head so he could tie it behind her. As he tightened the knot, she wriggled her hips against his pelvis, and he felt the heat from her against the fabric of his jeans. “You want this,” he rasped out. “I can feel it. I can feel how f*cking hot you are.”
“I do want this,” she whispered.
He lowered his head to her neck, buzzing a trail up to her ear. “I know you can’t see anything now, but you can feel everything. That’s why I want this. I want to watch you feel every single thing,” he said huskily, licking the shell of her ear.
She looped her hands around his neck. “It’s very dark where I am, and I need to know you’re here the whole time. You can’t look away from me.”
“I promise I will have my eyes on you the entire time,” he said, as he inched down her body. “You’ll feel me.”
“How?”
“Trust me, Julia,” he said, as he settled in at the end of the lounge chair, giving him a perfect view of her body, a straight shot of her long, luscious legs. “I’m going to sit and watch you, and I’ll tell you when I’m ready, and until then keep your hands at your sides.”
She nodded, and he drank in the sight of her, from her beautiful breasts, so round and gorgeous, to her rosy nipples, hard and practically demanding to be sucked on, to her soft, flat belly. Then the thong panties between her legs, beckoning to him. His fingers ached to touch her there; his mouth craved her taste. She arched her hips ever so slightly as he stared at her legs, and it was as if she knew, without being able to see him, that he was looking at her with such longing and heat.
“You can feel me looking at you, can’t you?”
She pressed her teeth into her bottom lip, and murmured, “Yes. I can feel your eyes on me.”
“Good. Spread your legs,” he said, and heat flared across his skin as she parted her legs, opening them wide for him.
He bit back a moan as he caught sight of the small scrap of fabric and the wetness on the cotton panel. This woman was so responsive, so aroused by him that it was almost a crime not to bury his face between her legs right now, send her hips shooting up into his mouth, and f*ck her with his tongue.
“This is also how you’ll feel me,” he said, circling her ankles with each hand, then gripping them, and holding them down, her feet bound by him.
“Oh,” she said, arching her hips and rocking into the cushion before she’d even touched herself.
“Now tell me how much you want to be touching yourself right now.”
“I’m so turned on,” she said, and her voice was hot and whispery.
“Are you aching to be touched right now, Julia?”
“Yes,” she moaned, her mouth falling open as she licked her lips. “Can I?”
“Do it,” he said. “Leave your panties on and slide those fingers between your legs.”
She dropped her hand into the waistband, then lower, then lower still, and she drew a sharp breath when she made contact. God, it was a beautiful sight, her lips falling open as her fingers reached her p-ssy. He wanted those fingers to be his, he wanted his mouth on her, his cock inside her, but he wanted this torture more. He craved watching her, knowing how she looked when she was all alone. He wanted to witness how her body reacted to her own touch.
“Tell me how it feels,” he said, as he gripped her ankles, her legs unbearably sexy in those heels.
“So good,” she moaned. “So wet. My fingers are sliding all over, and I’m imagining it’s your tongue.”
Sharp agony rang in his body, and every instinct told him to tear off her panties and f*ck her hard. But that wasn’t the point. He needed the torment of seeing her naked body writhing in pleasure. He was hungry for the waiting, for the tension that gripped him as he forced himself to hold out until she’d already come from her own hand.
“And how does my tongue feel right now, Julia?” he asked as he stared greedily at her hand, moving quickly beneath the lace. “How does my tongue feel on your sweet little * as I suck it between my lips and make you writhe into my mouth?”
She arched her hips into her hand, and moaned loudly, digging her heels firmly into the cushion. “Your tongue is so f*cking good on me. I’m picturing riding your face right now,” she said in a smoky voice that betrayed all her lust, all her want, and made him ache deep in his bones to touch her.
“Take off your panties. I need to see all of your p-ssy if you’re getting this worked up so quickly,” he told her.
She grabbed at the waistband, and pulled them down quickly to her knees. He tugged them off the rest of the way, taking them in one hand. “I need to smell you while you do this,” he said, and brought her panties to his nose, inhaling her. The scent of her was a direct line to his cock, painfully hard beneath the denim of his jeans, begging to be freed.
“How do I smell?” she asked as she dipped her hand back down between her legs.
“So. F*cking. Aroused.”
“I am,” she said in broken breaths as she stroked faster.
“Let your legs fall wide open, Julia,” he told her. “I want to see everything you do to yourself.”
She spread her legs further, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so open on his balcony. A black scrap of silk over her eyes, heels on her feet, and her body that he desired every single damn hour of the day, here for him. He could take her now; he could yank down his jeans and thrust inside of her, sliding into the warm, wet home of her p-ssy. But he wasn’t going to. Not yet.
“Are you touching yourself, Clay?” she asked as her fingers flew across herself.
“Do you want me to be? You can’t see me.”
“I know. But I can picture it. I want to know that your cock is f*cking your fist right now,” she said as she rocked her hips into her hand.
“You dirty girl with a dirty mouth,” he said, with utter appreciation for the way she talked.
“I am, and you love it,” she said, and the moment shifted from her submissiveness to her taking over somehow. He hadn’t expected this, but then, she had a way of surprising him. “You love every filthy word from my mouth. You love watching me f*ck myself, don’t you?”
“God, I f*cking love it so much,” he said, hitching in a breath, and pleasure ripped through his bloodstream at the sights and sounds. “I can’t think of anything that can get me off more than the woman I want f*cking herself in front of me,” he said, as he unbuttoned his jeans, slid down the zipper and let them fall to the ground. “I’ve been dying to know what you look like when you’re getting yourself off to me. Now I’m going to find out,” he said, rubbing his cock through his briefs. He wanted to close his eyes and give in to the pleasure, but there was no way he was missing this moment as her fingers raced across her swollen lips. “Show me. Show me now,” he said, as he pushed down his boxer briefs and took his cock into his hand.
And there it was. A loud cry of pleasure. An exquisite moan as her back bowed and her hips shot up into her hand, her fingers flying fast and furiously. “This,” she said, breathing hard, and erratic. “This is me picturing you licking me, eating me, f*cking me, taking me. Any way you want. That’s what I’m imagining now, Clay. Oh God, I want you so badly to f*ck me now.” She gasped, and her words were drowned out by her cries of pleasure as she rocked into her own hand, coming hard and beautifully for him.
In seconds, he was over her, untying the blindfold, watching her eyelids flutter open. Her pretty green eyes were hazy with lust. Never had he seen more heat in her gaze than in that moment. She’d loved every second as much as he had. He locked eyes with her as he reached for her hand, bringing it to his mouth and sucking on her index finger first, then her middle finger, licking her from her fingertips down to her knuckles so he could taste every drop of her.
“Perfect. You’re so f*cking perfect,” he said, as he savored the taste of her desire in his mouth.
“Do you like?” she asked, all breathy, awash in the afterglow of her orgasm.
He shook his head, moving closer to her. “I love,” he whispered, pressing the word softly against her lips. He kissed her eyelids, his way of telling her thank you for trusting him. Then he kissed her cheek, her neck, and her ear. “You’re beautiful all the time, and so beautiful when you come with me.”
“So was it everything you hoped it would be? Your fantasy?”
“Gorgeous, you are my fantasy come true,” he said as he grasped her hand and wrapped it around his erection. Immediately, she stroked him, her soft fingers providing some kind of relief. He drew a deep breath, fueled by the electricity that shot through him from her touch. “I want to see those lips wrapped around me.”
She let go, grabbed his hips, and pulled him down to her, lifting her mouth to him. The moment she made contact, he grabbed the top of the lounge chair. He had to hold back because all he wanted now was to f*ck her mouth hard, and come in her throat. His bones were humming, his blood was rushing thick and hot, and he wanted the same release she’d had.
“No,” he said, stopping her a few seconds later.
“Why?”
“Because I want it like this,” he said and pulled her up to her knees, then pushed her down on all fours. “Because I need to touch you at the same time.”
He guided his cock back to her lips, and she opened wide, taking him all the way in, her warmth surrounding him. He gripped the back of her head with his hand, her hair spilling over his fingers as he moved in her mouth. He slid his other hand along her back, enjoying the soft, smooth skin, then down to her ass, spreading his hand over one perfect check, and squeezing.
She caught her breath from that motion, even with her mouth full. He dropped his hand lower, slipping it between her legs. “Think you can handle being touched again right after you came?”
She nodded.
“Good. Because I was so jealous of your fingers the whole time I was watching you, and now I want my hand on your sweet p-ssy,” he said, sliding his fingers over her lips, from her * down through her wet folds, rubbing her in circles. She began to respond by rocking against his hand, moving her ass against him all while sucking him hard and as deep as he liked. Soon, he started to feel the build in the base of his spine, the threat of orgasm within his reach. All he had to do was thrust into her inviting mouth, let her take him as she wanted to. Every instinct in him said to keep f*cking her mouth, especially given how she pushed back against his fingers, rocking into his touch. But that p-ssy, that delicious, beautiful p-ssy, was where he wanted to be right now. He gently reached for her, cupping her cheeks and pulled her off of him.
“You have no idea how much I want to come in your mouth,” he whispered, holding her tight in his hands.
“So do it. I want to taste you. You know how much I love tasting you.”
He shook his head, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling. “I want to look at you when I come. I want to watch your face when I make you come again. I want to be inside you.”
She drew in a breath, and sighed sexily. “That sounds pretty damn nice too.”
He sank down on the end of the chaise lounge, and shifted her on top of him. He reached for the blindfold behind him, and dangled it between her breasts. “I like my gift so much, and there’s one more way I want to use it.”
She somehow sensed his need before he told her, because she moved her arms behind her back, aligning her wrists along her spine. “Is this how you want me?”
“Yes,” he growled. “This is one of the fifty million ways I want you.”
“Are you going to tell me all the other 49,999,999 ways?” she asked playfully as he looped his arms around her.
He smiled as he tied her wrists together, and bound her forearms, until they were neatly restrained along her back. “How is it possible that you can do this to me?”
“I think you’re doing things to me,” she said, her lips curving in a grin.
He ran a finger along her lips, tapping her lightly. “No, funny woman. How is it that you can make me laugh as I tie you up?”
“One of my many talents with my mouth,” she said, pouting sexily.
“Your sexy mouth is one of my favorite playgrounds,” he said, grasping her hips, raising her up, and then lowering her gorgeous body onto his cock. She inhaled sharply as he filled her.
“The blindfold is the gift that keeps on giving,” he said, and she smiled in return, then laughed deeply as he thrust into her, and he was sure it was her laughter that did him in. That melted his heart, absolutely and completely for this woman. He was there already, feeling everything for her, but for her to laugh like that during lovemaking, a joyous sound, sealed everything for him. He was a done deal when it came to her. She was the only woman he’d ever felt so much for, and he wanted her. Always.
* * *
She rode him up and down, but not a fast and furious kind of rhythm. More lingering and sensuous, taking her time, because they had time. There were no clocks, there were no deadlines; there was nothing but the two of them, entwined with each other.
He gripped her hips, guiding her moves at times, at others letting her set the pace. He kissed her breasts, burying his face against her chest, sucking one nipple, then the other. She desperately wanted to grab the back of his head and hold him tight against her, but her arms were shackled by the silk, and truth be told, she didn’t mind one bit. She didn’t mind being tied up by him, or tied down. Everything he did to her was designed to make her feel amazing—he f*cked her like she was unbreakable, and he kissed her tenderly like her heart was the most fragile thing he’d ever touched, the thing he’d never want to break.
“I missed you this week,” he said as he blazed a trail of kisses up her chest to her throat. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” she said, breathing hard as he filled her.
“I need to see you more, Julia,” he said, and his voice was bare and emotional, stripped down to the simplest of needs.
“I need that too.”
He looped his arms around her waist, then up her back, tilting his face to look at her as they made love. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”
“Tell me,” she said, locking eyes with him. “Tell me how much.”
“I want you in every way possible.”
“I thought it was fifty million ways,” she said, teasing him, and he thrust hard in response. “Tell me some of them.”
He gripped her wrists in one hand. “You know what I want? I want to f*ck you in every way I can.”
Her eyes widened with those words, with the possessiveness of his tone. “How?”
He dropped a palm to her ass, gripping her tight. “I want to f*ck your p-ssy as I’m doing now.” He drove deeper into her and she arched her back, letting him know she liked it. “I want to f*ck your mouth, again and again,” he said, running his finger across her lips, then sliding it into her mouth. She sucked long and hard. He dropped his hand to her chest, tracing a line between her breasts. “I want to f*ck you between your breasts,” he said. Then, in a flash, his hand had returned to her backside and he slipped a finger between the tops of her buttocks, causing her to draw a sharp breath. Inching his finger lower, she both tensed and thrilled as she sensed where he was going. He slid his hand between her legs, coating his fingers in her wetness, then began slowly traveling back up. “I want to f*ck your hand, and I want to f*ck your pretty little ass,” he said, stopping to rub a finger against her rear.
“Oh God,” she said, her eyes falling closed.
“Do you think you’d ever let me?” he asked, his voice all hot and husky against her throat as he pressed the tip of his finger further. He was barely inside her ass, but the twin sensations were so intense, tearing through her with a pulsing kind of tightness.
“I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully, in between breaths.
“Can I do this though?” he said, pushing deeper, and a bolt of pure, white heat lit up her body.
She could barely speak; words had become impossible to form. How could anyone put syllables together when he was inside her like this? When her entire body was trembling from pleasure, and from the unexpected intensity of both his cock and his finger penetrating her?
“Is that a yes?” he whispered, his voice low but firm. He needed an answer. He needed to know how far he could go, and there was a part of her that felt utterly helpless. She was tied up in his lap, with bound hands and spread legs. And yet, there was nothing he’d ever done to her that wasn’t short of spectacular. He was a drug, and he delivered hits of pure pleasure through her heart, mind and body.
“Yes, you can do that,” she said, swallowing thickly as he thrust his finger deeper. She’d never experienced this before, this double dose of intensity, but there it was, her entire body spiraling into a new land of ecstasy as he did what he’d said he wanted to do. He f*cked her everywhere. He f*cked her all over. He owned her and consumed her, and turned her world into blinding hot rapture as she rode him. He rolled his hips up into her, his cock driving deeper, his finger sending waves of pleasure through her. She was nearing the brink, racing to the precipice, and she needed to be closer to him.
“Untie me,” she said desperately, through heavy pants.
Immediately, he undid the knot around her wrists, letting her hands fall free. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tugging him near, needing contact, needing to hold him as her orgasm vibrated wildly through her body. She gripped him tight, ecstasy carving its way through her in the most beautiful plundering, as he stole her body, her heart, and her very soul. She clutched him as his shoulders wracked with shudders too, joining her, his own grunts and moans piercing the night.
“I need you all the time too, Clay. All the time,” she said into his neck, slick with sweat.
“I feel the same,” he murmured stroking her back with his strong hands, and soon after she’d come down he carried her upstairs, turned on the hot shower, and bathed her, soaping her up and rinsing her off, then drying her, and taking her to bed, nestled and warm in his arms.
“We have to find a way to see each other more,” he said, running his fingers through her hair as he faced her in bed, the dark of the night cloaking them, only a sliver of moonlight revealing his face. “It’s not negotiable.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh really, counselor? Is that how you play ball?”
“Certain terms are not up for negotiation. This is one of them.”
“How do you propose you win this point in your client’s favor? The client, I presume, is you?”
“You know what they say about representing yourself.”
“That you have a fool for a client?”
He nodded, and smiled at her, his lips curving in that sexy grin. Then his expression changed. Shifted. Turned more serious. “Julia, when I first came to San Francisco, I had no idea this would happen.”
“What’s this?” she asked, nerves fluttering through her. She was terrified to attach definitions to what she was feeling. Better that he go first. He was always the braver one.
“You and me,” he said, and the words made her heady. They’d both come so close to voicing the most dangerous one of all. “I didn’t come to San Francisco that first night looking for this. I wasn’t looking for anything.”
“What did you come for? What did you want?”
“I didn’t want anything,” he said, staring deeply into her eyes. She felt as if he were looking far inside her, beyond her skin, beyond her cells, to know the heart of her. And that it belonged to him.
“And now?” She asked, her throat dry with hope.
His deep brown eyes searched hers, holding her gaze, holding her tight. “Now I want everything.”