I took a deep breath, my ribcage tight.
My lack of vision made everything more intense: Rohan’s cologne, the air conditioning humming over my skin, the scrape of the belt along the base of my spine.
Rohan ran a finger down the side of my neck and along my collarbone. I suppressed a gasp at the contact. He whipped the belt off me, using it to stroke me everywhere: toes, hands, stomach, legs, breasts, mapping my body.
Goosebumps trailed in its wake.
The leather creaked and then the buckle clattered against something. “Next time, Harley, bring leather, not this cheap shit that falls apart.”
“You seem pretty sure there’s gonna be a next time.”
He gave a dark laugh that shivered through me. “I’m fairly confident.”
My nipples hardened.
I canted my hips. His hand splayed over my stomach, pinning me in place. A bite where his hand had been, then nothing. The sting of his teeth faded quickly. I strained to hear a footfall, to pinpoint his location, but the carpet was too thick and Rohan too practiced at moving silently.
The minutes ticked by. I rubbed my ass against the mattress, seeking relief and finding none.
My stupid boyfriend crunched ice instead of getting me off.
“Desperate yet?” His cold tongue swiped a line from between my breasts to my pubic bone.
Ooh. I arched off the bed. “You’ll have to work harder than that.”
“Can’t ever be easy with you, can it?”
“Wouldn’t want you losing inter-eeest.” My voice jumped two octaves because he’d rubbed an ice cube against my clit.
“Not a problem.” The ice against my clit disappeared. “More? Use your words.”
“I’m not begging for anything.” Didn’t need to. My writhing worked just fine as consent.
“Your first strategy doesn’t have to be war.” He ran the cube over Cuntessa in slow, even strokes. “Haven’t you heard you can catch more flies with honey?”
Cuntessa pulsed with a vengeance. The ice was rapidly melting, running down and out along the crack of my ass. “But you don’t want honey. Maybe you did at one time, but now? It’s too sweet for your tastes.”
My thighs were soaking and I had no idea how much of that was the ice. I dug my heels into the pillowy mattress top, muscles clenching.
The ice melted and his strokes stopped, leaving me on the brink. I arched my back, clamping my mouth shut so I wouldn’t whimper for more. My pulse thudded in my ears.
He drizzled sticky grape-juice-smelling liquid over my tits. The champagne. “You think you know what I want?”
I barely had time to register the fizzy booze sticking to my skin before the cool liquid was replaced by the heat of his mouth, licking and suckling in exquisite torture. He squeezed and pinched my breast, thrusting the fingers of his other hand between my lips.
Like he didn’t want me to answer.
I sucked on them greedily until he withdrew them, lavishing hot, messy kisses along my body.
The sting of his teeth nipping my skin, his rock-hard cock pressed against me through his pants, his lips worshipping me, Rohan was branding me and it still wasn’t enough.
My fingers flexed, wanting Ro but closing on thin air.
The warmth of his body disappeared. A thud and rummaging. “Trying to discover my secrets by going through my purse?” I said.
“No. Looking for… ah.” The squirting sound of lube and skin moving on skin.
“Are you jerking off?” I bucked against the cuffs. “Without me?”
“Definitely not without you. I’m staring at every inch of you spread open for me.”
I rocked my hips and moaned.
“Are you picturing me?” he growled. “Shirt open, one hand running over my abs.” His slaps grew louder, faster, his breath quickening, his harsh exhales matched by my own. “I’m so hard for you. I can see how wet you are and all I can think about is plunging into you.”
“Scared you won’t measure up if you actually try it?” My voice wasn’t so much sultry as frantic with sexual anguish, but he sounded too far gone himself too notice.
He laughed. “I’m not scared of anything you can dish out, Harley.”
I tugged the restraints. I didn’t want to be anybody else. Not with Rohan. Not now. “Chair.” I was practically thrashing against the bonds, my heart trying to punch its way out of my ribcage. “Chair.”
“Hey.” He tore the blindfold off.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting expecting a harsh brightness, but he’d turned the lamps off in the room. Any light spilling in from outside was dim enough not to hurt, but having my sight again, being rooted in a physical space instead of the sensual one I’d floated in was disorienting.
He stroked my hair back from my face. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.”
“Is it?” I arched toward him. “I don’t want to be Harley. I want to be me.”
His face was inches from mine, his gold eyes wild and fiery. “And who am I in this?” His hands curled around my biceps.
A wild laugh tore out of me. “You think I don’t know it’s you? Always you? Rohan. Liam. Mitra. My Ro. My Snowflake.”
He ripped my cuffs off me, plundering my mouth. Under the coolness from the ice, was the taste of licorice thanks to the candy-coated fennel seeds he always popped.
Rohan plunged his cock into me in a single ferocious stroke. “My beautiful girl.”
He pulled out an inch, pushing forward again slow and filthy until the exquisite fullness of him so deep inside me made me tremble. “Fuck. Being inside you like this?” His expression was full of dizzy wonder. He cupped the back of my head, nipping my bottom lip.
“Oh God, Ro. Please.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, scrabbling at his shoulders. I sounded unhinged and didn’t care so long as he kept going. I pled incoherently for more, sweat trickling between my breasts and down the backs of my knees.
He fucked me into the mattress, riding me in short, hard pounds, my shredded costume floating through the air with each bounce, like streamers at some kind of sex parade. With each thrust, he danced in and out of the slanted shadows: his muscles contracting, his eyes slits of gold, and his hands a dark caress of my slick, hot skin from my shoulders to my waist and back again.
I raked my nails down his back, thrilling at his hiss. Blood roared in my veins and static buzzed my brain. We were tangled up, taking up residence under each other’s skin.
His hands fisted in my curls, and growling low, he bit the hollow of my neck. “You taste like music, you know that?”
I whimpered, my body caving into his touch.
He grazed his teeth along my neck. “This tastes slow and dreamy like one of Chopin’s piano concertos. But here?” He palmed my breasts, sucking my nipples into his mouth. “Mmm. A fat R&B groove.”
My breath came in greedy gulps. “Yeah?” I ran a hand down my side. “What about here?”