by Nikki Sloane
Warmth bloomed in my chest. He didn’t have my mouth on him, but he could see it and imagine what it would feel like, and it clearly gave him satisfaction to watch me slide further down the length.
“Fuck, that looks so good,” he uttered.
I gave my own noise of satisfaction as I established a rhythm. There wasn’t as much give as there was when going down on the real thing, and my jaw began to ache almost immediately, but it was a small price to pay to see how he enjoyed the show. He wound his free hand in my hair and cupped the back of my head, not to push, but to guide. To show me exactly how he wanted it.
I was thrilled to have his direction.
Like it was the real deal, I pulled off and wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping my fist up and down. The muscles in his jaw flexed. He was clenching his teeth, and the realization made me smile.
I gave him a final pass in my mouth, working my way as far down to his fingers as I could get, and then I was abruptly pulled to my feet, so fast it made me dizzy. Grant plodded the half-dozen steps to the dining table and stuck the suction cup right on the closest corner.
He stood beside it, turned his gaze until it was fixed on me, and held out his hand.
-22-
Tara
Air whooshed into my body as I swallowed a thick breath.
This was an invitation I wasn’t going to refuse. I put one foot in front of the other, took Grant’s extended hand, and let him jerk me up against him.
His chest was made of granite, and his embrace was so tight, he crushed my breasts between us. But even that felt pleasurable in its own way. Skin against warm skin.
His mouth possessed mine while his hands possessed my body. They caressed and teased, slipping over my skin, kneading my ass and cupping my tits, turning me on even more than I already was. Goosebumps pebbled down my arms as his lips brushed against the shell of my ear.
He turned me slowly in his embrace until I was facing the table. The dick was poised and ready for me, its tip curving up toward the ceiling. His cello-playing fingers trailed down my stomach, drawing a line down my body, all the way until he stroked them through my soaked pussy. I flinched with pleasure at his touch, every nerve in me a live wire.
His palm was warm on my left thigh, and as he slid his hand inward, he also urged me to lift my leg so he could ease my knee up onto the tabletop. I leaned forward, just enough to put my hands down and give me the leverage I’d need.
The height wasn’t bad, and since I was at the corner, I had room for my supporting leg. As I centered myself over his cock, there was rustling behind me and a zipper rang out. Then his bare chest was warm against my back, his hands grasped my hips, and he helped lower me down.
It wasn’t as warm as he was, but the stretch felt amazing, and I welcomed the intrusion deeper inside me. A moan drifted from my throat as he pressed the rest of his body to mine, and I discovered he was naked. His dick was hard against my ass, while I descended further on his cock, and although the angles were off, and it wasn’t actually him inside me . . . it felt like he was.
It felt like we were fucking.
“Oh,” I sighed so softly, it was a ghost of a word.
His mouth latched onto the side of my neck, and one hand came up to cup a breast, the other hand staying firm on my waist. It was so he could guide me up and then ease me back down. The first gentle stroke of my body riding his cock, moving in time with him.
This one was louder from me. “Oh.”
Grant’s grip tightened in both places, and he directed me to move faster. And faster. Until I was pumping my body on the table, fucking at the tempo he demanded from us. His dick was nestled between my ass cheeks, sliding in the valley there, and I balled my hands into fists on the tabletop, fighting against the sensations.
Because it all felt so good. The slick slide. His rough hand pinching my nipple. His hot mouth sucking at my neck.
As we fucked, my knee squealed against the veneer and the table leg hammered on the hardwood floor. Other sounds rose above it. The wet stroke of my pussy, our gasps of satisfaction, and my whimpers of pleasure. I reached a hand up and behind, fisting the hair at the nape of his neck, which was already damp with sweat. It caused me to arch my body as I clung to him, my chest angling upward, my breast high and undulating with reverberations as I rode the table.
His words were raw and aggressive. “You like it deep inside you?”
“Yes,” I gasped.
He grunted his enjoyment and forced me down farther, right to the edge of discomfort. It was a challenge to take it, but I did, and after a few more pumps, I grew accustomed.
We fucked until my supporting leg shook and I was hopelessly out of breath, becoming a sweaty, panting mess. Moans mixed with whimpers and sighs.
“Would you like it,” Grant asked, “if he fucked your pussy while I fucked your mouth?”
“Yes.”
And then his fingers were there, two of them sliding past my lips, pulsing in my mouth. It made it so easy to imagine. To picture Silas beneath me and Grant standing beside me, his dick buried so deep down my throat he would feel each swallow. I wanted to ask where Regan was during this fantasy, but his fingers kept my tongue still, so I imagined her facing me while straddling Silas’s face, her tits in my hands.
I nearly came from the idea of it.
But I wasn’t one of those girls who could orgasm from penetration alone, so I wrapped my hand around Grant’s wrist and guided him to pull his fingers from my mouth. “I want to come,” I whined. “Please, Sir. Make me come.”
He knew exactly what I needed, because those wet fingers instantly went down between my legs, searching for my clit. I shuddered, letting him know when he’d found it. The pads of his fingers flicked over me as his hips pressed to mine and forced me to fuck faster. Harder. Pleasure welled up, threatening to spill over. My heart skipped beats. My breath cut off as everything focused inward, then was sent flying out in all directions as I fell over the edge.
I cried out as I came, trembling so hard the table vibrated. His arms locked around me, holding me steady, and he feathered kisses in a line down my neck and the curve of my shoulder.
The orgasm rolled through in waves. The first peak was so strong, I couldn’t feel anything but acute bliss. The second wave wasn’t as powerful, and now I sensed the toy lodged deep inside me, giving my body something to clamp down on and throb against.
On the third wave, my heart started again. I was able to inhale new air into my lungs, bringing me gradually back to Earth. Jesus, that orgasm had been epic.
His kisses slowed to a stop as he sensed I was nearing the end of my recovery, and in the quiet, there was only our hurried breaths, synced as one, our chests heaving together.
Grant lifted me in his hold, raising me up off his cock, and backward until I had both feet flat on the floor. His dick was still hard, stabbing me in the small of my back, but he seemed content not to do anything about it right this moment. I turned my head blindly to him, seeking his mouth on mine.
Our kiss was a song, and the first verse was restrained and deliberate. Our lips moved, restlessly shifting to find the right angle and maximize our connection. We found it as we hit the chorus. The intensity picked up with the tempo, leaving me dizzy and struggling to stay matched with him. His tongue invaded, dominating the kiss, and just as my weak legs buckled, Grant was there, sweeping me up into his arms.
He stepped out of the clothes puddled around his ankles and carried me into my bedroom, depositing me on the bed, and switched on a lamp. I was naked, as was he, and I couldn’t help but stare at all of him.
His dick was rock hard, protruding toward me. Physically, it wasn’t that different from the one out on the dining table, but it was different in all the ways that mattered, because it was a real part of him. My hands ached to touch and stroke. I wanted to know what he tasted like.
But as much as I longed for those things, I also desired staying ob
edient, and in the haze of lust, it was hard to see anything beyond instant gratification.
“I’m worried I’m going to break a rule,” I admitted, rising onto my knees on top of the bed. “I want to touch you.”
He smiled softly as he touched himself, gliding his hand down his length. “You are.”
I understood how he meant, that he was imagining my hand in place of his own, but . . . “No, I’m serious. I really want to touch you. May I?”
He stilled. A war waged in his eyes. He wanted this, but also to follow the rules. Was he stronger than I was? It wasn’t a test, and I hadn’t consciously meant to tempt him, but subconsciously, perhaps I wanted to know. How strong was his self-control? And if it was the same as mine . . . would Regan and Silas discipline us for breaking the rule?
I placed my hands on his shoulders and ran them down his arms, following the flow of his muscles, but he abruptly stepped back. His expression gave nothing away as he turned and disappeared into my dark bathroom. What the hell?
My eyes went wide, and a shiver raced up my spine as he returned, the satin sash of my robe in his hands.
“Yes?” he asked, looking at the sleek, blue band of fabric he held, then up to me.
“Yes,” I breathed.
I was in disbelief as he busied himself tying one end around my wrist. This guy wasn’t just a unicorn, he was fucking perfect.
The knot was snug but not too tight, and he draped the sash behind my back, then focused on the other wrist. He left just enough slack between the knots, so my hands weren’t pulled behind my back, but I couldn’t reach forward either.
“How’s that?” The dark timbre of his voice was sexy.
“Good,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He raked his gaze down my body, pausing on my lips for a moment, as if distracted and thinking about kissing me, but moved on instead. That same gaze traveled back up, slower this time, more deliberate. He was savoring me like this.
His palms were warm when he set them on my collarbones and inched them down. His fingers crept over the tops of my breast, brushed over my sensitive nipples.
There was an undeniable gravity to his voice. “Do you trust me?”
Hadn’t I already proved I did? I’d let him tie me up—although these knots I could undo myself if given enough time. I answered genuinely. “Yes.”
A satisfied smile burst on his face, but I didn’t get time to enjoy it. He pushed me down onto my back, and with my hands tied, I was completely at his mercy as I fell. He softened the landing by holding onto my biceps, and once I hit the mattress, he dragged me to the edge of the bed.
My brain went blank with panic as he stepped between my parted legs, and his dick brushed over me. It might have felt good, but the alarms were too loud. My fists went white knuckled as I tried to reach for him, and the sash stopped me, digging into my back.
“Don’t move,” he ordered. “Stay absolutely still.”
He grasped himself at the base with his thumb and forefinger and dragged the tip of his naked cock over my bare pussy.
“Oh my God,” I groaned.
“This isn’t against the rules, is it?” He sawed himself back and forth, rubbing over my clit and coating himself in my arousal.
My words were tight, because every muscle in me was tense, following his command. “It’s a gray area.”
He was right there. The slightest shift in angle and he could slip right inside.
But he didn’t. He peered down at where we were touching, watching as he ran himself over my pussy, letting me feel the ridge at the tip, down to the grip of his fingers. It felt so impossibly good. It was horribly teasing, and probably something we shouldn’t be doing, but—fuck—I loved it.
He sighed, and it was heavy with pleasure, which only made it feel better to me.
“Dangerous,” I whispered.
His expression was smug and ruthless. “It’s part of what makes it exciting.”
He’d just parroted back to me the same line I’d given him while talking about my first threesome with Silas and Regan. It was as true now as it had been then. The risk of breaking the rule made the act hotter.
I was desperate to writhe, but I fought it back. The only movement he wrung from my body was the tremble in my legs. I couldn’t stop that even if I tried.
“Could you come from this?” he asked, driving the head of his cock through my slit, repeating the motion endlessly. It was hard to focus. It was impossible to think about anything other than his smooth, soft skin rocking over mine and the erotic, electric current the friction created.
Heat was building at the base of my spine. I was already halfway to an orgasm. “Yes,” I cried.
Grant slowed and gave the bed an evaluating look. Whatever he was thinking about, the decision was made, because he stepped back and helped me to my feet. “I want you on top.”
Oh.
Yes.
It was tricky getting into position since I didn’t have use of my hands, but I put my strong dancer’s core to good use, and he was there, guiding me. He lay down on the bed, his head on the pillow, and I climbed on top of his lap. We let out a collective hiss of breath at the contact.
Now that I was sitting on him, his cock was pressed between my pussy and his stomach, and it meant he had full use of his hands. He seized my hips and directed me to rock on him.
The new position changed the sensation, and not in a bad way. I could feel more of him. The pressure was greater. I no longer had to hold still.
With this new freedom, I went wild. I ground my body on him, like I was trying to map his cock with my clit. He filled his hands with my breasts, sucking and biting at me while groans rumbled from his chest.
I humped him, squeezing my ass, flexing my thighs, doing whatever it took to get the speed my body desired to help get me off. I risked a glance down at his chest and saw the glistening head of his dick peek out between my pussy lips as I slid over him.
The sight was too much. My orgasm had seemed near, but it suddenly was right upon me. “I’m going to come.”
“Fuck, do it,” he encouraged, his voice rasping. This sexual act was taking its toll on him. The muscles in his neck were strained. Was he about to come too, but holding back for me?
A cry pealed from my throat as ecstasy slammed into me. I tried to stop riding him while the bliss rushed through, my clit overly sensitive, but Grant wouldn’t have it. He clamped his hands on my waist and jerked me forward and back, heaving me over his cock.
Then he shuddered and let loose an enormous groan, his body jerking below me. Strands of cum shot out, flicking over his stomach and splattering his chest in short spurts. It was so fucking sexy, it prolonged my orgasm. I could feel every throb and jerk of his cock against me, and it gave aftershocks of pleasure.
One gasped breath, followed by another, and we began to calm. We hadn’t had penetrative sex, but used all of the same muscles, and felt spent. Grant reached up to cradle my face in his hands and pulled me down so I was leaning over him, my hair falling into his face, into our kiss.
As he tasted me, brushing his lips over mine, he put a hand on my wrist and worked the knot free, releasing me. I rolled off to lie beside him, undid the other knot, and propped my head up with an elbow on the mattress.
“No applause this time?” he asked, casting his gaze up to the ceiling.
“They’re not home. Brad and Hector went out for a game night with their friends.”
“Well, they missed out, then, because we were bloody brilliant.”
I grinned so wide, it made my cheeks hurt. “You want to stay the night? We can repeat the performance in the morning for them.”
He rolled his head on the pillow toward me. “Sleeping together is against the rules.”
“Not actual sleeping.”
He liked my offer a lot, judging by his expression.
He climbed out of my bed, strode into the bathroo
m, and grabbed a handful of Kleenex to wipe himself off. When it was done, he made his way back to me, but hesitated as he reached to pull back the covers. “Are you going to be able to control yourself, or do I need to tie you up again?”
I scoffed. “We’ll be fine.” But then I thought about it. I was satisfied now, and he was temporarily out of commission, but tomorrow morning he’d likely wake up ready to go. And I was always ready to go. I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Okay, maybe you should put your underwear back on. Just to be safe.”
He smirked, and it was that moment I realized how much I was willing to risk for him. I’d give up the arrangement with Silas and Regan if he wanted that. I’d do it in a heartbeat.
And if he wanted me to give up the blindfold club . . .
I was beginning to believe I’d do that too. Anything to keep him.
-23-
Grant
I wasn’t ready to play the song for Tara until Wednesday, and even then, I was more nervous than ever. I’d practiced it a hundred times, first with the metronome, then my lesson with Stan Fredrick, and finally with Francine’s piano recording.
Something wasn’t right. I was missing the spark I usually had when I played, where I commanded the bow across the strings. Now I fought the music, struggled with finger placement. Currently, the song was making me its bitch, and unease twisted in my gut.
This performance was important to Tara . . . and she was important to me.
When I played for her, I wanted her to look at me the same way she had all the other times. I’d never seduced a woman with my music before. Tara had watched me play my cello with a dreamy expression on her face and desire burning in her eyes.
Her performance had a similar effect. Seeing her dance? The way she moved her body ensnared me to the point I couldn’t do anything but watch. It made my heart stop.
Tara had been in my apartment twenty minutes, and I still hadn’t reached for my cello yet. I’d stalled by showing her around—all five hundred square feet of my one-bedroom place—and then poured us some wine and asked about her day.
