by Taryn Quinn
Sage
I rose out of the water just enough that my breasts skimmed the surface. My nipples might as well have been connected to his voice. “Join me.”
He undid his tie, looping it over his head. His shirt was next, the fabric peeling away to reveal golden skin swirled with more of that dark ink that covered his forearms and muscles that rippled in the low light. He undid his belt slowly, seducing me with his movements as much as with his steady focus on me. I watched him avidly as he dropped his pants and boxers, shedding them along with his socks and shoes. He allowed me to look my fill, his already long, thick cock seeming to grow even more under my gaze. I couldn’t look away. He was so freaking hot, and not having him for even a few days had felt like an eternity.
“You still owe me that Valentine’s Day orgasm.” I trailed my hand through the water, reaching up to cup my breast. The move felt foreign, awkward, but his inward breath made it worth it.
“I always repay my debts. With interest.”
Hesitantly, my thumb circled my stiff nipple. I didn’t know what I was doing, and it was probably painfully obvious how little I knew about my own body.
He’d already taught me so much. God willing, he’d teach me more.
He stopped beside the tub and undid the clip in my hair, setting it free. Slowly, he worked through the tangles, his touch soothing me as it always did. I turned my cheek against his thigh and his cock was right there, so stiff and proud. I cupped it and tentatively swept my tongue around the tip, never letting up the pressure on my nipple. It was a poor substitute for stroking my clit, which was where I really needed attention, but I could tell from the heat in Oliver’s eyes he liked what I was doing.
“Keep going,” he urged, and I wasn’t sure if he meant my attentions on his shaft or my hand on my body. Assuming both, I shifted to the other breast, squeezing harder as I took the domed head between my lips, sucking lightly. He cursed and fisted a hand in my hair, hauling back my head. Breaking the connection between my mouth and his erection. “Touch your pussy.”
The word made me tremble, as it always did when he talked dirty. I was still a virgin in so many ways. Still so uneasy when it came to exploring my sexuality. But I wanted to learn.
I slipped my hand lower, pausing for a moment over my belly. Our gazes locked. So many things unsaid. I didn’t know if I’d imagined the way his pupils blew wider before I continued on, my hand disappearing beneath the surface of the water. I ran my fingers over my mound and the neatly trimmed strip of curls, then slid down over my swollen, slippery lips. The instant my thumb skimmed my swollen clit, I gasped, and he drew my head back farther, his focus divided between my arm in the water and my face.
“Can’t see,” he muttered. “Show me everything you’re doing on your face. Don’t hide from me.”
Did he have any idea what he was asking of me? The intimacy this required? It wasn’t just sex. This meant baring everything, exposing myself to him in the most vulnerable way.
I rubbed my clit, keeping my eyes on his even when I wanted to avert them. I could feel the heat climbing my chest and neck, flaming in my cheeks. He was riveted on me, his fingers lacing deeper into my hair as my breathing grew shorter and my touch bolder.
I caressed myself harder, slipping farther along my folds until my finger poised at my sensitive entrance. I sank inside with a long groan, my knees falling open in the tub, my shoulders lowering into the water. But his grip on my hair anchored me, as well as that dark, demanding gaze that only increased the tightening in my core.
“Two fingers,” he said, and I did it without thought. I wrapped my other hand around my breast, squeezing rhythmically while I pleasured myself. The heel of my hand brushed my clit with every pass and a jolt shimmered through me, making my hips jerk and water splash out of the tub. Drops slid down his abs and that killer vee that led to his cock, but he didn’t wipe them up. Instead, he fisted his cock with his other hand, pulling on it with such force that I had to press my thighs together. Trapping my fingers inside.
“You’re close.”
It wasn’t a question, and I couldn’t answer in any case. I just moaned as he worked himself from root to tip, his hand in my hair guiding my head backward so that our eyes were inexorably linked. My fingers moved faster, my need growing until I couldn’t hold back my panting breaths.
His cock was right beside my cheek, full and hard, and I wanted it in my mouth. My lips parted and he gave me the tip, resting it there while I whimpered and used my body for our combined enjoyment. Salt burst across my tongue and he groaned and pushed forward, sending me over the edge. I cried out, never releasing him, sucking on him as my fingers plunged again and again, wringing out every ounce of pleasure.
All too soon, he withdrew. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
I didn’t know what that meant. “What’s—”
He hooked his hands under my arms and lifted me up, giving me no choice but to wrap my dripping limbs around him as he carted me from the room. Drying me off didn’t seem to be a concern. I clung to him, weak from my orgasm and slightly dizzy from the steam.
Still so eager for more.
He crossed the hall and entered a bedroom, covering the distance from the door to the huge bed in several steps. I glimpsed more candles and additional flowers by the bed, along with something silky draped over one of the posts. Dimly, I made out dark wood beams in the high ceiling and a fan paddling lazily overhead.
He lowered me gently on top of the sheets and opened my thighs, spreading them obscenely wide as he kneeled between them. Then his mouth was on me, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but be. His erotic kisses were so much more aggressive than my ministrations had been, and I needed that too. I needed his raw greed, the way he splayed me open and just feasted on me as if I was the most delectable thing he’d ever tasted. The sounds he made, the scruff buzzing over my flesh, the rasp of his teeth on that taut little bud that was tightening again already. Just for him.
But he had something else in mind. He eased back, licking his lips by the glow of the candlelight. Wetness gleamed on his chin and rather than being embarrassed, I shivered. He rose and lay back against the pillows, pulling me on top of him. I kissed him eagerly, always aroused by the taste of myself on his tongue. He murmured something, too low for me to hear, and nipped my lower lip, the sting of pain arrowing right to my clit. Mindlessly, I grinded against him, rubbing up and down, the sensation of his hard length right where I needed it driving me wild.
Then I noticed again that length of silk looped around the post. I reached for it and his jaw flexed. Not just, say, a tie to a robe. This had a much different purpose.
“Another part of your Valentine’s seduction?” I asked huskily, trailing the material over his shoulder as I rose, my breasts dangling so close to his mouth. He buried his face between them, cupping and kneading them in his big hands as my head dropped back, pleasure rolling through me in a wave. I nearly came on the spot.
“So sensitive now,” he said against me, and I moaned even at the heat of his breath on my rigid nipples.
I fumbled to hold onto the tie, sliding it along his arm. “You want to tie me up?”
The idea didn’t frighten me. Maybe it should have, considering how precarious everything between us was. But he’d mentioned handcuffs that first night in the hotel, and between that seed he’d planted and how surprisingly exciting it had been to be held down, I was curious.
“You liked the possibility of handcuffs.” His tone was almost lazy. He wasn’t pushing. Just inviting. Encouraging.
“You’re introducing me to all manner of dirty things.” I squeezed my knees around his hips and he lapped at my nipple, his gaze roaming my face. “Tie my wrists,” I murmured, “but I want to be on top.”
He gave my breast another kiss and reached for the tie, whipping my arms behind my back and binding them loosely before I could so much as squeak. I felt off-balance and so exposed. The position pushed out my
breasts, making the rosy nipples seem to point straight out. He must’ve agreed, because he latched on to one, pulling hard while I squirmed against his cock.
“Not sure I can do this. I’m going to fall.” The worry didn’t make sense. My knees were securely on the bed. But something about the pose left me unsteady, although the way he was devouring me with his eyes definitely didn’t.
All my curves were on full display, and he was examining me as if I was a damn work of art.
“I’ve got you.” He gripped my hips and let go of my nipple with a pop, switching his attention to that spot between my neck and shoulder that always made me crazy. Almost silkily, he slipped inside me, pushing forward in one glide that stole my breath.
“Fuck. That feels…” What were words? I couldn’t remember. Grunts. That was what I’d been reduced to. And him too, low, dirty ones against my breast.
“Goddamn, you feel good. So wet. Hot. Jesus, never fucking with a rubber again.” He pulled back and drove into me, so hard that I threw my head back again to drag in air. My fingers curled into fists beneath my bound wrists. My arms were starting to hurt, but the way my breasts were thrust forward gave him easy access. And he made good use of it, sucking and biting my nipples while he dug bruises in my hips and stroked his cock in and out.
I looked down and glimpsed his shaft, damp and shiny from me in the candlelight. I quivered, clamping down with all my strength as he sank home again. His sound was part triumph and part torment.
All hot as hell.
“So fucking sexy.” He loosened my restraints and suddenly I could move my arms. “Ride me, princess. Take me exactly as you want.”
I was beyond nerves. Beyond anything but chasing more of this wanton feeling rising inside me. He wanted me, just as I was.
In his eyes, I was beautiful. And in my own too, maybe. Getting there anyway.
My body bucked against his, and I tossed back my hair as I bounced on his cock. I was lost to the sensations growing inside me, bolstered by his raw, urgent groans. I didn’t hold back, didn’t try to temper my reactions. My hands came up to cup my breasts, my fingers caging in my nipples. He released my hip to rub my clit and my eyes flew open as I pinched the tips, desperate for more sensation. For more pleasure.
“You’re exquisite. Such beautiful breasts, so red from my mouth and your fingers. And your pussy, so thoroughly used. I can’t wait to spill myself inside you.” He ran his tongue along the inside of his lip and I cried out, my entire body throbbing.
The sounds of our lovemaking were so filthy, so uninhibited, and he was hitting that spot inside me just right every time I drew off him and slid slowly, so slowly back down. Taking him all the way to the hilt. Soaking him in my desire. Somehow proud of the fact that I could get this turned on, this wild.
“Fucking killing me,” he rasped, his thumb determinedly circling my clit. Over and over, in time with the strokes of his cock. “Come on me.”
He didn’t have to ask. I’d already been on the verge, but his voice, his fingers, and his cock were a magical combination. I couldn’t stop myself. Couldn’t stave off the impending crash a second longer.
I moaned, and he rose to take my mouth, swallowing my cries as I tumbled into that final drop and went soaring. Literally in this case. I fell forward against his chest, losing my balance entirely, my body quivering.
A sharp smack registered in my ear before the brief pain blossomed on my ass cheek, and even that made me more crazed as I rode his dick. I couldn’t stop the pulse of my hips or the frantic clench of my inner muscles. It seemed endless, only ceasing for a bright, manic second as he groaned in my ear and warm wetness spurted deep inside. I wasn’t sure if I really felt it or if I was guided by his moans, but the mere suggestion that I could feel him coming inside me pushed me into yet another climax. I whimpered and dug my nails into his shoulders, falling into a dark, vast space where I didn’t have to think or worry.
Just existing, just basking, was enough.
When I came back to myself, still sprawled in a sticky, sweaty heap on top of him, I brushed a kiss over his throat. The silk tie was still wrapped around one of my wrists. “Wanna tie you up next.”
Something rumbled through his chest—either a laugh or a growl, I wasn’t sure. “Can’t spank you without the use of my hands.”
“Is that what you did?” I kissed him again, more of a sleepy lick this time. That smell of his. Like being in a forest with that extra layer of spice. “Felt good. Made me come harder.”
As soon as I said the word come, I flushed. Luckily, it was dark, so he couldn’t see. But I buried my face between his neck and shoulder and gave myself away.
Now he was laughing, no doubt about it. “Where have you been all my life?”
The question had me lifting my head. “I was right in front of you all along.”
“You were.” He traced his thumb over my lip and I smelled myself on him. That made me flush more. And it also made me sneak my tongue out for a lick. “I was fucking blind.”
“And you have contacts. Time for a new prescription?”
“Wise ass.” He flicked my nose and reached down to undo the twisted tie around my wrist, gently rubbing away the last of the marks. “Okay?”
“Better than.” I stretched my arms, working out the kinks. Then I reached back to rub my still slightly sore bottom. “You spanked me?”
“Mmm-hmm. You kept pushing your ass against my hand for more. Coming the whole time. Christ, you were hot.”
I sucked in a shuddery breath. “I think I may be a little kinky. Who knew?”
He didn’t laugh as he smoothed my hair away from my face. “Or a lot. Early days yet.”
“Yeah. I’m woefully undersexed still.” I let out a low moan as I detangled our bodies and rolled over onto my back, splaying my arms wide. “I’m not sure the bath had time to do much, but the rest? Definitely helped with some of the knots. Whoa.”
He leaned over to brush a kiss over my belly. I went still, wondering if his placement was intentional.
All too soon, he rolled off the bed. “Wait here.”
“Like I can move. Don’t forget to kill the candles,” I called, and he waved a hand over his head in acknowledgement.
Which I barely saw, because hi there, glorious naked ass. Perfect.
I was still lying there propped on my elbows, trying to summon the strength to go clean up, when he returned. He sat beside me on the bed and set a long black box on my stomach.
For a moment, I let myself pretend the box was smaller. More compact.
Romantic fool surfaces once again, likely stirred by stupendous sex.
“What’s this?” My pulse hammered in my ears. “Uh-oh. Valentine’s Day. I only got you a sweater. And I forgot to bring it.”
“A sweater?” He sounded about as pleased as if I’d told him I’d gotten him a tea set.
“Gray Irish wool.” I sniffed. “Not a department store special, Mr. Hoity-Toity.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely.” He chuckled and nudged the underside of my breast with the box. “Open it.”
I obliged him, swallowing hard as I tilted the box and the rose gold bow necklace shimmered in the candlelight. At least I was pretty sure it was rose gold. Whatever the metal, the necklace was simple and delicate and so pretty that my throat ached.
“Oliver,” I whispered. “You really bought this for me?”
Way to sound super lame.
I was the exact opposite of his usual sophisticated girlfriends. Forget that. I could barely figure out how to be a girlfriend period. I was still stuck in the phase of life where teenage boys bought their first loves a rose for Valentine’s Day. Not gorgeous bling.
“My other girlfriend was on vacation, so I figured I might as well give it to you.” He laughed as I poked his side.
My other girlfriend.
God. I should not be getting warm all over, head-to-toe, from his usage of that word. But it was so much different when I thought of myself as h
is girlfriend than when he said it.
I was a sap. Probably due to hormones. It wasn’t my fault. Non-pregnant Sage was entirely levelheaded.
“It’s beautiful.” I angled the box to get another look in the low light, and he leaned across me to turn on the bedside light. Automatically, I started to drag the sheet over me, until the look he gave me stilled my hand.
“Leave it. You’re gorgeous.”
“I’ve been hitting the chocolate and salt hard…” I trailed off and took a breath, focusing instead on the lovely necklace he’d given me. My insecurities were improving, but they had the worst habit of resurfacing at the most inconvenient times.
I traced a fingertip over the small bow at the center of the chain, already envisioning it around my neck. “Did I mention this is beautiful? Thank you.”
“It reminded me of you. Lovely and strong beneath the fragility on the surface.”
“Is that how you see me?”
“Yes. Along with smart and funny and resourceful. Sometimes a pain in the ass. Always an amazing lover.”
By the end, I was grinning. I couldn’t argue with the pain-in-the-ass part. It was sterling truth.
“Hold up your hair.”
I lifted it and he fastened the necklace around my neck, his fingers shifting it around until the bow centered at the base of my throat. I reached up to touch it and grabbed his fingers too, holding them in place over the necklace as I found his mouth with my own.
“Thank you. I love it,” I murmured between kisses.
“It suits you, just as I knew it would.” He gave my fingers a squeeze as he eased back and glanced at the clock beside the bed. “We should sleep.”
“Do I look that exhausted?”
“Sleeping for two now,” he said lightly, rolling off the bed and padding across the floor to the bathroom. A minute later, the door clicked shut.
I yawned and curled up against the pillows, drawing the sheet and blanket over me. Maybe I’d be able to rest now. It had been an exhausting week, and my back-to-back orgasms were definitely taking their toll.
My fingers fumbled for the necklace and I closed my eyes, smiling at the water turning on in the bathroom. Those were the normal, happy sounds of living with someone. I wanted that life. Maybe even with him.
