by Tina Donahue
Tor’s mouth fell open on a loud moan as she licked his nuts clean, the heat and rasp of her tongue making him dopey with too many sensations, each one astonishing. He had to take a few seconds to collect himself before he was able to suckle the inside of her thigh.
She wiggled but didn’t move away. As though Marnie knew what he wanted most, she lowered her pussy even more, giving him easy access.
Her delicate curls smelled of musk, carnal excitement, raw need. He licked the length of her slit, thrilled at the uncivilized noise she made. Her cue for him to continue.
Wasn’t easy. She was working on the crown now, sucking the caramel away, sweeping her tongue back and forth…
Praying for control, Tor tried to ignore what she was doing and concentrated on enjoying her damp folds, the plump and rosy flesh. He speared his tongue into her opening.
She made a gruff noise he suspected was satisfaction.
Tor wanted her shrieking with joy. He pressed the tip of his tongue to her clit.
Marnie jerked in apparent surprise and settled closer, clearly reacting with desire. Her heady fragrance did wicked things to him. Drunk with need, Tor suckled her nub, recording the heat and smoothness of her skin, how she tried to keep from wiggling.
Staying still was a monumental effort for Tor given how she slid his cock into her mouth, taking him fucking deep. She cupped his balls next, dragging her thumbnail lightly over them.
He bucked, unable to help himself, his rod screaming for relief.
Not yet, not yet, goddammit not fucking yet.
Tor wanted to give Marnie pleasure like she’d never known. In the few short weeks since they’d met, she’d enriched his days as no one else had.
Steeling himself against the exquisite feelings she’d produced in him, Tor focused on her happiness. He swept his tongue over her nub, flicking the tip against the small rise of flesh, taunting and teasing Marnie.
She moaned around his shaft, the sound muffled yet delightfully coarse. A love song he wanted to believe was only for him.
Tor doubled his efforts, not giving Marnie a moment’s rest from his tongue. She did the same with him, her mouth hugging his cock as she slid up his length then down, hand fondling his boys, thumbnail grazing each ball delicately.
Too much. He couldn’t stand anymore. His body wasn’t made to endure excruciatingly wonderful torture like—
Tor’s thoughts stalled. He exploded on a harsh shout, coming just as Marnie did, both of them crying out with unmasked delight. Climbing, climbing, climbing until there wasn’t anywhere else to go. He floated down on a blur of pleasure. She huffed out her air, swallowed loudly and continued to pant.
“Wow,” he said first, barely able to form words. “I love your version of kink.”
She giggled.
Tor finished his yawn. “After we rest, let’s try mine.”
Marnie had waited for this kind of bed play her entire adult life. Games that made her hot with need but also allowed her to laugh.
She smiled at Tor trying to keep his eyes open. Within seconds, he was out, features slack, his bound wrists not bothering him in the least. He enjoyed life, his confidence in himself and everyone else astounding her.
These last minutes would never have been possible with Ethan. He had his ego to protect, an issue she hadn’t realized until too late. If Marnie had been crazy enough to suggest tying him up, as she’d done with Tor, Ethan would have accused her of being a ball-busting bitch, one of his favorite expressions. If he’d been in a particularly foul mood, he might have smacked her for getting out of line. He led and she followed.
According to Ethan, her father and other men like them, the world had to work the way they wanted. No other options were possible.
With the help of her therapist, Marnie had finally understood how control gave Ethan comfort. Deep inside, he was terrified of not dictating what everyone would bring to his life even though he refused to give anything in return. According to him, only sissies compromised. Real men held firm no matter what.
According to her therapist, Ethan’s behavior didn’t make him happy, since people can only control themselves.
“The more you try to force your will on someone else,” she’d said, “the less of their loyalty and love you actually have.”
A simple concept Tor got, effortlessly drawing Marnie closer.
God, how she wanted to be with him and dreaded the possibility of them not seeing each other again. Not because she’d want to call things off, but maybe he would. Who knew?
A short time ago, Marnie had told Alice about having to hold back on her feelings. That she couldn’t get emotionally involved with Tor. A lifetime seemed to have passed since she’d said those things. Marnie could barely remember what her days had been like before she’d allowed Tor inside her life. Allowing him to know who she really was. What she needed as a person and as a woman.
She still had to tell him the rest of the truth so he could make an informed decision about being with her. Only…when to dump more stuff on him? Today, tomorrow morning, a week from now?
Marnie was still mulling over the problem when Tor scrunched his nose and reached for it. For the third time, he’d pulled against his restraint, sending his fingers flying into the headboard.
“Shit,” he whispered.
“Sorry.” Marnie crawled to his side. “I’m untying you now.”
He gave her a sleepy smile. “No longer the badass?”
“I didn’t say that.” After releasing his wrist, she gave him a love bite on his nipple.
“Yow.” He lifted his head. “Am I bleeding?”
Men. “You can lose up to four pints without any problems.” She untied his other wrist. “I saw that on CSI or The Blacklist, maybe a true crime show.”
“Good to know.” He rubbed his nipple then the area where she’d given him a hickey.
“Hey.” Marnie eased his hand away. “You’re going to mess up my work.”
“Speaking of which.” Tor pushed to a sitting position and checked the bandages on her arm. All of them were still in place. “Any discomfort or pain?”
“If I say there is, will you keep letting me have my way with you?”
He grinned. “That’s a given. Seriously, you okay?”
“My arm feels slightly sore but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Good.” He handed her the container with the cake and the large wooden spoon she’d failed to use on him, preferring her fingers instead. “Knock yourself out while I get the rest of our meal.”
She didn’t dig in. “You’re going to smear steak, chicken and mojo sauce on me?”
“We’re going to have an early dinner in bed then play and wrap things up with a bath.” Tor cupped her chin. “That’s where I baby you.”
Who was she to complain? Marnie had most of the cake finished by the time Tor hauled in the food and beverages on two large circular trays, one in each hand held above his head.
She spoke around the whipped cream in her mouth. “Where’d you learn to balance stuff like that?”
“I waited tables for a lot of years. First, to pay Dante back for putting me through art school. Next, to eat while I was trying to sell my early work.” He put the tray with the chicken dishes, plantain chips and beef-stuffed cassavas next to her. From the other tray, he took a fork and a beer, handing over both.
Marnie licked whipped cream off her fingers before taking the utensil and bottle. “Thanks. I’m going to specialize in domestic violence.”
He put the other tray behind them and joined her on the bed. “In your social work stuff?”
She nodded, needing him to know that much at least. “I want to work with women to keep them from ruining their lives and ultimately their kids’ futures too.”
“I have no doubt you’ll be great.” He kissed her lightly. “If you want help with your math so you can put it behind you, let me know. No reason to suffer when I can make things easier.”
“I couldn’t ask y
ou to do that.”
“You haven’t. I’m offering.” He cut a piece of the cutlet, scooped up a wad of grilled onions and popped the combo into his mouth. “Fuck, this is good.” He tried the skirt steak with chimichurri sauce next, moaning as he chewed. “You have to try this.”
With a taste of both meats on his fork, he offered the food to her.
Whoa, she thought as she chewed. He was right. Marnie ate another bite of his entrees and offered him a taste of her chicken dishes.
As they ate, they discussed their respective careers with ease, Tor asking questions about her schoolwork, classes she’d yet to take, Marnie wanting to know if he’d ever considered working with oils like Van Gogh did.
“I’ve done every medium,” he said. “I may go back to oils someday, though not now. I wasn’t good with them.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I’ll have to show you my early work. It ain’t pretty.” He shuddered. “Actually, I’m kind of embarrassed at how awful those paintings are.”
Marnie rested her hand on his thigh. “You were learning. You have nothing to feel bad about. Hell, I’m so screwed up, I’m going to a therapist.”
He stopped spooning Spanish sauce over the fricasé de pollo.
Oh shit. Marnie had wanted to tell him about herself, though not like this. The words had seemed to fall out of her mouth.
“I think that’s great,” he said, turning to her. “Is the therapy helping with what your father did to your mom and you?”
“More than I’d hoped. I should have gone a long time ago.”
“You’re going now.”
She nodded, grateful she’d finally had the chance. If Marnie had tried to go to therapy when she and Ethan had been together, he would have surely beaten her senseless. He’d done all he could to imprison her, his last act so selfish and ruthless, she finally knew she had to run.
She wanted to tell Tor about those terrible days but still found the thought of doing so too hard to face. He was such a nice guy—he would never say anything bad. He certainly hadn’t when she’d told him about going to a shrink. However, his real thoughts on the matter might be something entirely different.
“I’d like to ask you something,” she said.
“Sure. What?”
“I want you to be totally honest, okay? No lying or being nice to spare my feelings.”
“Even if I didn’t agree with you, I wouldn’t be cruel. And I certainly wouldn’t lie.” He seemed surprised she’d have to mention such a thing. “What do you want to ask?”
“You don’t think I’m silly for going to therapy?”
He frowned. “Who would? A lot of my friends enlisted and served in Iraq because of 9/11. Those who came home needed to talk about what they’d seen and done, especially when the invasion turned out to be a sham. Some went for help. Others didn’t. Believe me, the guys who admitted they needed support are a lot happier today. I’m glad you’re going.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Being you.” She hugged him. “Let’s play again. I’m ready.”
Marnie couldn’t wait a second longer.
Chapter Nine
Tor put the trays on the floor, their empty beer bottles on the nightstand. Reaching past Marnie, he grabbed the tops she’d used to bind one of his wrists.
“Move over to the headboard,” he said, untying the knot and separating the garments. “Don’t lie down, keep sitting.”
She leaned into him, brushing her lips over his, her breath scented with beer and spices. “Gonna tie me up to have your way with me?”
“Better.”
With an intrigued expression, Marnie did as he asked, holding her wrists out for him to tie.
He cherished the trust she was showing him. “Turn around. Arms behind your back.”
Marnie glanced at the tank top. He was flipping the fabric into a long cord as she had. Once her back was to him, Tor tied her wrists. Not enough to be uncomfortable, though she would have some difficulty getting free. Finished, he rested his chin on her shoulder, enjoying the lingering fragrance of shampoo in her hair. “Comfortable?”
“Uh-huh.”
She sounded aroused. Good.
After positioning and plumping the pillows in the center of the headboard, Tor helped her to them, making certain none of her weight fell on her bandaged arm. He eased the back of her head to the wood, leaving her hair mussed, though he did ease one tress over her shoulder, the tip curling above her breast. Next, he moved Marnie’s legs until she had the left one slightly to the side, the right one bent at the knee, the sole of her foot on the comforter. The angle allowed him to see Marnie’s cleft, the moist folds peeking out from her delicate curls.
His cock awakened with interest, lengthening and growing hard. He ignored his urge to run his fingers up Marnie’s slit, to taste her juices. Tor had other things he had to do first. He sat next to her and drew Marnie’s nipple into his mouth, suckling strongly as he knew she liked.
A breathy moan spilled from her.
Tor drew out the pleasure, enjoying her contented sighs. He flicked his tongue over her erect tip one last time and turned to Marnie’s other nipple, drawing her flesh into his mouth. She straightened slightly, which lifted her breasts, offering them to him.
Tor kept falling more in love with her.
After a few minutes, he stopped sucking and eased back. Her nipples were darker and damp from his mouth, the halos constricted.
Perfect.
With his fingers, Tor combed the curls between her legs, noting how her breathing quickened. After planting a kiss on her silky belly, he left the bed. “Be right back.”
“From where?”
“Next room over. Don’t move.”
She tilted her head. “If I do?”
Tor smiled. “You’ll see.”
He returned a few minutes later with his sketchpad and chalks.
Marnie stared at the items. “No way is this going on the wall of fame at the parlor.”
“Nope. Once the portrait’s done, it stays in here.” He sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “This baby’s going to look like you. No screwing around with your features. They’re perfect.”
Marnie smiled shyly, her complexion darkening with her blush. “Is this why you sucked my nipples? To give them more color?”
“They also tasted good. Try not to move. While I’m sketching you, imagine you’re in a slave market about to be sold to a Sultan. He’s observing each part of you closely—your naked breasts he’ll soon hold in his hands, your nipples he’ll suck, the area between your legs he’ll know intimately and often as he mounts you repeatedly each night.”
Her throat and the top of her chest turned red. “Do you read erotic romances?”
Tor laughed. “Jasmina and Lauren do. Sometimes they discuss the raunchier parts at the parlor. I can’t help if I overhear.”
“Uh-huh.”
Smiling, he began to sketch, focusing as a slave owner would on the folds between her legs, her lavish hips, full breasts, plump bottom lip and finally Marnie’s eyes, hooded with arousal. Tor guessed she wasn’t thinking about the dumb plot of a romance right now. Having him regard her so intimately and for such a prolonged period clearly turned her on, exactly as Tor had planned. He interrupted his work to brush her hair aside and suckle her nipples once more, his actions unnecessary. As he’d said, Marnie was perfect. However, what he’d done deepened her blush, her excitement evident.
Minutes passed in silence between them with other sounds filtering in—the swoosh of tires from vehicles passing on the street, his refrigerator kicking on, the rush of cool air spilling out of the ceiling vents.
Whatever Marnie was thinking must have been wickedly good, her parted lips and glazed expression precisely what Tor had wanted for her portrait…and for their new game once he’d finished with the sketch. He didn’t dawdle, his movements swift and precise. Soon, Tor had what he wanted. Filling in the det
ails would come later. He put the pad to the side, used the comforter to wipe chalk from his fingers and moved to her.
Marnie blinked slowly as though coming out of an X-rated trance. “Finished?”
“For now.” He eased her away from the headboard and untied her wrists.
“Let me see what you drew.”
Tor gestured to his pad at the foot of the bed. He smiled when Marnie crawled across the mattress, legs parted, ass lifted and facing him, exactly as he’d wanted. As she regarded his sketch of her, Tor studied Marnie’s voluptuous ass, her plush cheeks perfect for his hands.
She looked over, her smile filled with what looked like love to him. “You put in the tats.”
“Not completely. When I finish they’ll be the same in the sketch as they are on you.”
Marnie turned back to the drawing, the ends of her hair swinging above the comforter. “This is amazing.”
He studied her damp slit, the tight ring of her anus. Yeah, she was amazing. “Finished looking?”
“I guess. Why?”
“Don’t move.”
She looked over again, disobeying him so easily. “Why?”
“Didn’t I tell you not to move?”
“Yeah—why don’t you want me to?”
Tor folded his tank top into a long strip. “Do you have any idea how bad you’re being?”
Marnie regarded his top as she might a whip. “Uh-huh.”
Her voice couldn’t have sounded huskier.
With his garment in hand, Tor crawled across the mattress to her. “Head forward.”
This time, Marnie didn’t ask why. She grinned knowingly and did as he asked, plainly trusting his game, knowing he’d never harm her. Her confidence in him encouraged Tor to position his top over her eyes. After tying the ends in back, he eased the soft cotton to the center of her forehead and nearly to the tip of her nose.
“Can you see anything?”
Marnie cleared her throat. “No.”
“Want to continue?”
“God yeah. Don’t stop. Do me good.”
Hell, he was beyond lucky to have met her. He was fucking blessed. Grinning, Tor rolled his other top into a cord. “How’s the arm?”
