Bound by my own pearls, I bite my lip. The anticipation begins to rip through me. This could be classified as another failed attempt to fulfil my duties, but as the fever pitch races over me, and his hungry eyes indulge upon me, I don't care for the murderer within, just the primal sin begging for Zane.
He steps right up behind me. His chest is practically flush against my back. It’s primal meeting of flesh on flesh, one of the most natural feelings ever, but it casts me into a frenzied freefall where my skin prickles with mounting ecstasy. Immediately, he forces my hair to the side, pushing it over my shoulder so it all falls onto one side, leaving the side of my neck exposed. I’m so preoccupied as to what’s to come, I jump slightly – much to Zane’s amusement – as his hand skims over my waist, hovering over my hip only to grasp onto me as his lips lower to touch my skin. He smothers my skin with kiss after delicate kiss, enriching my need for him.
I wonder if he can feel the rapid speed in which my blood is pulsating around my body. At first, it was the buzz of alcoholic goodness, but now my adrenaline has started pumping, and it’s burned through the liquor and is fueling me on the release of natural hormones. A dance of endorphins develops and joins the addictive adrenaline rush. With each touch of his lips, my senses loosen, quintessentially abandoning me so all I can feel is the wetness in my panties and that craving to be filled by Zane’s length.
“I’m not making this easy on you,” he whispers against my skin, his words murmured down to a mumble. “I want you dripping. I want you begging. I want you to be completely mine.”
My breath falters at the sound of his threat, and I worry he’ll find that I’m not far from giving him what he wants. And the feeling doesn’t weaken as his hands carry on a course over my body. They cover inch by inch of my bare skin, his fingers leaving invisible traces.
While his kisses still preoccupy my mind, I find my bra becomes loose, and Zane allows it to fall away from my body. His hands leave my body for a millisecond before he’s moving around me, his fingertips trailing across my shoulder blades around to my front. They continue over my shoulder and down my chest, and I just watch him intently. He comes to stand before me. His fingertip deliberately goes over my breast, leaving my body once it’s made contact with nipple.
Zane casts a smile and says nothing as his hand comes back to my body, pulling my close to him. He kisses against my collarbone, traveling down in quick succession. He bends down, kissing my breast, sensitizing it until he latches onto my nipple. He kisses and nips around the area, even striking it with his tongue, and I can feel it becoming hard to control myself. I finally moan in pleasure and the release of pent-up breath is exhilarating. His hands grab onto my biceps, moving slowly upwards to get a better grip on my shoulder so he can continue to worship my breasts, building up an orgasm in the deepest pit of me. Between his hands and lips, my body becomes a live wire and the fever pitch is too much for me to handle.
Then I say something that shocks even me. “Stop!” My voice is torched with desperation as I say that, and I never wanted him to stop touching me faster. My body had suddenly began to ready for a cataclysmic explosion that I didn’t want to happen – at least, not until Zane was buried deep within me. “Please, Zane, I can’t take this.”
Zane has stopped, standing back as if I’ve shocked him. He looks bemused and perplexed all at once, and he fixes me with a questioning look.
“I need you,” I tell him, that same ooze of hopelessness. I stare him dead in the eyes, my lips parted with my panting breath after striving to hold off from caving under the power of his lips and tongue. “I want to touch you. I want to hold on when I cum.”
“Okay,” he responds simply.
He gives a head nod as well and agilely begins to move. He does well to remember to remove the pearls and my panties, and even as he discards those with one toss, I don’t care. He resumes his position in front of me, both of us naked and ready. He pulls me close, and I can feel the press of his hard-on against my leg. I gasp at the feel, lazily moving my gaze up his body to look him in the eyes. I scrutinize him in the hope to see what will happen, but he’s unreadable. I know he’s full of intent, and he’s ready to drive me to an ethereal state, but other than that, I can’t tell anything. Even as he pushes my panties down my body, there’s nothing readable about him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he states, moving strands of hair over my shoulder. “I’m a lucky man that you’re all mine, Amelia.” His hand now meets my jaw in gentle ease and he leans in as it runs down to cup my chin. He uses the action to force me to look at him steadfastly, making me his victim. “All mine.”