by Alisha Rai
“I’m sure your parents freaked out.”
“They did, but they came around. They really are good people, and they love me. Everything they did, they did because they love me.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. My feelings toward them were probably a little excessively angry back then.”
“I was so grateful for that love, maybe you’re right, I was more deferential to them than I should have been…” She struggled for words. “They never kept my adoption a secret from me, and I suppose in the back of my head I just wanted to make sure they never gave me up either.”
“Like your birth mom did.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry she wasn’t all you dreamed of.”
“It’s okay. I got Ron out of it.”
He lifted his head, and she held up her hand. “Do not ruin this civil conversation by calling him names. He stays out of this, remember?”
Wyatt subsided, looking disgruntled. “Fine.”
“Is your dad…still around?”
“Last I heard.” It was no surprise when he changed the subject, gesturing to her food. “Eat. Stop pecking. No wonder you’re still so small.”
She arched an eyebrow at him and nibbled on a bite of pasta. “Are you complaining?”
“Hardly. But you need to keep your energy up.” A wicked look. The vibe in the room abruptly altered from civil conversation to looming sexy times. “Frail women worry me. They break, you know.”
“Oh, darling, if there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I don't break.”
He cocked his head. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“To break me?”
“Breaking sounds cruel. Maybe to see how far you can…bend.”
She placed her fork carefully on the plate. “I’m pretty flexible.”
He mirrored her movements, pushing his plate away. They had better things to do with their hands and mouths than eat. “I haven’t even seen you naked yet.”
“You’re missing out,” she purred.
“Take off your clothes then. Let me see how much you can take.”
She didn't protest, curious to see where he would take this. She stood and untied the halter at her neck, letting the dress drop off her hips to pool around her feet. She stepped through it and her panties, kicking them aside.
She’d never been that self-conscious about her body. She worked hard to take care of herself, running daily even when she was in the grip of a feverish new design or project.
But since Wyatt’s head was right at the level of her pussy, she couldn’t help but be a little self-conscious. Should she have waxed? Shaved? Added sparkly jewels? Maybe installed a music box?
Stop.
Whatever doubts she had were banished when he gazed up at her like a supplicant at her feet. He brushed his hand over her hip. “I was missing out.”
She tried to swallow past the scratchiness in her throat. “I told you.”
He stretched up far enough to take her necklace between his teeth, tugging on it before releasing. “Take this off. I don’t want to make it dirty.”
The snap of tone from praise to orders was sudden but not unexpected. Yet…Dirty? Intrigued, Tatiana reached behind her neck and released the catch, dropping the expensive trinket into his palm without the care she usually showed her pieces.
Without breaking her gaze, he placed the jewelry on the coffee table. “Hands behind your back. Spread your legs. I’m still hungry.”
Shivering, she obeyed. “Am I your dessert, Wyatt?”
“No.” He picked up the plate of chocolate cheesecake from the table. “This is my dessert. You can be my dish.” Crooking his fingers, he dipped them into the cake. “I like cheesecake,” he said conversationally. “It’s so easy to spread.”
The first touch was on her belly, and her stomach muscles contracted at the coldness of the dessert. “Jesus.”
“Too chilly for you?”
The last two words took the question from a solicitous inquiry to a rough taunt. “Not at all.”
He swirled the chocolate around her belly button in a design only he knew. “Do you ever work on canvas?”
“No…” She bit the inside of her cheek as his fingers crept downward, teasingly close to her mons. He looked like he was totally absorbed in his creation, painting long curlicues over her hipbones and down her thighs.
“I think I’d be good at this whole art thing.”
Her thighs tightened when he added more “paint” to his fingers and dabbed it into the curls at her vagina. Wyatt frowned. Leaned back a little and studied her, as if he really was using her as his canvas. Cupped her whole sex in his hand and ground upward. Quick, fast, not there long enough for her to rub against and find release.
Her breathing picked up, her breasts trembling. The crude smearing of creaminess over her vagina highlighted the seductive designs he’d painted on her thighs and stomach. The man was displaying a fairly good understanding of contrasts.
Most men would probably have started licking her off by now, but Wyatt apparently didn’t consider her pussy the finish line. He gathered more cake in his fingers and smoothed it over the curve of her breast. She thrust forward, trying to get his attention on her nipples.
She got it. Fire raced through her and her toes curled when he raised his hand and slapped at her nipple. Not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to sting. The remnants of cake on his fingers stained her flesh, chocolate mixing with flushed pink. “Don’t move.”
Before she could respond, he delivered a tap to her other breast.
“I didn’t move!”
He glanced up at her, wickedness making his eyes glint. “I know. I wanted your nipples nice and hard.” He compressed the tip between two fingers. A sizzle of delicious pain ran through her. “I wish I had something to decorate these. Remember those green jeweled clamps we had?”
Wyatt’s naughty smile. “I got green to match your eyes.”
Speech was becoming a challenge. “You don’t keep an arsenal of sex toys?”
“If only. I would love to see you with a butt plug up your tight little ass. Or whip marks on your back. What do you like?”
Any of those things. All of them.
“Yes. Too bad I’m not more prepared. We’ll have to save those things for another time,” he murmured.
Another time? There wouldn’t be another time. Before she could marshal her thoughts to answer, he slapped her nipple again.
She cried out, and he paused. “Hurt?”
“Yes.”
Wyatt returned to working the nipples with his fingers, both soothing and inflaming the sting. “Too much?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shut up and spank my tits, Caine.”
His mouth curved down, and she knew he was trying not to laugh. He delivered a few spanks to each side. By the time he stopped, her head was tossed back, her pussy clenching with every beat of her heart. Pain and pleasure sizzled through her nerve endings, heightening every sensation. Her hands were fisted behind her back, the nails making imprints into her skin.
Cold enveloped her hot breasts, and she gasped, her eyes shooting open. “Wyatt!”
He finished piling the dollops of cheesecake on top of her nipples and sat back. The plate landed on the table, the large slice of cheesecake reduced to a denuded graham cracker crust.
He didn’t break their gaze as he wiped his fingers off on a towel. Ever so slowly, he undid his already askew tie and slid it free. “Turn around.”
“You don’t need to tie me. I haven’t moved my hands.” Yes. Yes, tie me.
“Turn around.”
Her thighs were wet with her arousal, she was so turned on. She obeyed. The fabric, still warm from his body, whispered over her skin, a gentle kiss. The ends brushed over her ass as he knotted it securely. Silk and strength. She was his.
He smacked her ass. “I wish I hadn’t used the whole cake on your front.” He clasped the cheek he had slapped and squeezed, openin
g her up. “God, this ass. I just want to…”
His teeth closed on her, and she yelped.
Another bite, and he gave a low laugh. “Swivel. I bet you taste even sweeter with chocolate.”
Finally. Tatiana turned, fully expecting him to fall on her, ravenous. But he was busy unbuttoning his shirt, turning a simple masculine chore into a striptease. He drew the shirt off and tossed it aside, his bare torso gleaming in the dim light.
How had his body gotten so much better with age? Ropy muscles lined his arms. His chest was wide and hard, his stomach still nice and flat. And his chest hair. Unf. He still had the perfect amount, neither too much nor too little. The dark hair arrowed in a line down below his navel, disappearing into his pants. Many hours had been spent with her tracing that happy trail with her tongue. She moistened her dry lips. “You know, artists should clean up after themselves.”
Wickedness glinted in his eyes. “You’re so right.” He rose to his knees, one arm going around her waist while he served her breast to his mouth. He enveloped her nipple, eating her as if she were a creamy dessert. Switching, he made sure her other breast received the same treatment, pulling hard enough at her nipple that his cheeks hollowed and she cried out.
He sucked and licked and bit his way down her body, missing some spots, spending far too much time at others. He avoided her desperate pussy and thoroughly cleaned off her thighs and hips. Her hands were curling into claws. “For fuck’s sake, Wyatt.”
There were no delicate getting-to-know-you-again forays into her pussy. He was nuzzling her thigh one second, and the next he had his face buried in her. He wasn’t as interested in the chocolate covering her sex as he was in the juices inside, his tongue uncurling to press deep. One thumb settled on her clit and the other hand clenched her hip so hard she knew she’d have bruises tomorrow. Taking his cues from her writhing body, he took control, moving her so she was fucking his tongue. Her hands struggled against her bonds, desperate to grab his head, his hair. Not because he was doing anything wrong, but because he was doing everything right. What if he stopped?
Her legs trembled. Standing would become impossible soon. “Let me lie down.”
He sucked her clit, letting it pop free of his mouth to come up for air. “You taste so good,” he muttered. “Ready to come, Tatiana?”
“Yes.” She arched her hips, an infinitesimal movement that his observant eyes couldn’t miss.
He lapped at her belly. “Ask me nicely.”
Ah. She stilled, trying to get her breathing under control. So this was the game. She could succumb, since she was in such dire straits. Or. She could see what kind of pleasure she would receive in return for refusing.
No-brainer. She made her voice rough and uncaring. “Fuck you.”
The heat that flared in his eyes told her she’d made the right decision. He withdrew and came to his feet, a study in contrasts himself with his bare gleaming chest and tented dress pants.
“Not nice enough.” He grabbed her by the neck, his hand feeling large and heavy. “Get in the bathroom.”
“The…what?” Not the bedroom? Had she heard him wrong?
“You said artists clean up their messes.” Those hooded eyes surveyed her. “I’ve made you awfully dirty.”
Some of the imminent fire in her pussy cooled. Was this a break in their play? A pragmatic interlude in their otherwise fantastical night?
Yeah, it was really responsible of him to want to make sure his sheets didn’t get chocolate on him. He couldn’t help the fact that she needed a good hard fucking right now.
His thumb swept over the hollow of her throat. “Come on.” He released her and placed a hand at the small of her back.
“Aren’t you going to untie me?”
“No.”
Oh. Huh. Maybe this wasn’t a scene break.
Okay.
She walked a couple of steps ahead of him, certain to add a little twitch to her hips, letting the ends of the tie flirt with her ass. They made it through the darkened bedroom, directly into his master bath. The towel she’d used earlier was still askew where she’d tucked it to hang dry.
Wyatt turned on the shower and gestured, expressionless. “Get inside and rinse off.”
“Um. You aren’t going to help me?” She rolled her shoulders, as if to remind him of her tied-up state.
“Do the best you can.”
What the fuck? He was missing prime, wet, sexual-antics time here. Eyeing him askance, she got inside and let the hot water course over her body.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement through the glass enclosure. Turning around, she watched Wyatt adjusting the taps on that decadent bathtub, pouring something inside. Oooh.
The man was full of great ideas. Had he figured out how much she coveted that tub? He came back to her, reaching inside and shutting the water off. The combination of hot anticipation and steam in the bathroom kept her from shivering from cold. “That would have been more efficient if I had hands to help me,” she couldn’t resist grumbling.
He held her arm as she got out. “Don’t worry. I’m going to go over every inch of you and make sure you didn’t miss a spot.”
She gave him a flirtatious glance from beneath her eyelashes. “And if I did?”
“Then I’ll punish you for being such a dirty girl.”
“Fair enough.”
He urged her into the tub, helping her maintain her balance when she might have toppled, tied as she was.
She sank into the warmth of the water, sitting in the center of the tub. The sound of a zipper prompted her to glance up in time to see Wyatt’s pants and underwear hit the ground. His cock looked huge and swollen, its mushroom-shaped tip round and voluptuous. Semen glistened on the tip. Enraptured, she leaned forward slightly as he stepped inside the tub, his strong legs spread on either side of her, his cock right at the perfect level for her to…
A wordless noise escaped her when he grabbed her head, stilling her. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. He didn’t correct her, but he did slowly bring her head forward until the velvet skin of his cock brushed against her lower lip. She kissed him, a chaste peck. His fingers rubbed her scalp in a tender manner. “You want it, don’t you? Tell me where. I’ll stuff you full, anywhere you want.”
She almost told him before she remembered. The game. She cast him a militant look and pushed back against his hands. “Thought you were cleaning me up.”
He gave a chuckle and released her, before kneeling in the tub. His knees brushed against hers, the hair on his thighs scraping her legs. “I couldn’t resist. You looked so hungry.”
“We both know you need me more than I need you.”
As soon as she said the words, uttered out of rashness and possibly jest, Tatiana wished she could recall them. They meant something. She wasn’t entirely sure what, but they meant something. He froze, his face wiped clean of humor. Her muscles locked as well. Tension vibrated between them, becoming as thick as the steam in the bathroom.
“I…I didn’t mean…”
“Shh.” He placed his fingers over her lips. His face was set, hard.
She spoke around his hand. “I was just playing, you know. Trash-talking.”
“Yeah. Me too.” He moved his hand down over her throat to her breasts. He massaged them roughly. “You’re still so dirty, Tatiana.”
“My hands are tied,” she pointed out, breathless. She felt like a ping-pong ball, the way she kept bouncing up to the height of desire. Her unnecessarily intimate faux pas took a seat on the back burner.
He lifted one breast up, leaned down, and bit at it. She squealed.
“Beg me.”
Do it. Finish this. “No,” she heard herself say.
A growl sounded in his chest. He pushed her back until she was sprawled in the tub and he was straddling her. He shut off the water, the cessation of sound leaving only their panting breaths in the room.
He swept over her belly and down her legs, paying lip serv
ice to cleaning her off, his real intent to arouse her nerve endings with his calloused touch. He stroked back up to her pussy, using the heel of his hand to grind down on her clitoris. With his other hand, he shoved two fingers deep inside her.
She cried out, her head tipping back against the dark marble.
He leaned in close, his hot breath fanning her ear. “My fingers are bigger than yours. But they still aren’t thick enough, are they?”
They weren’t. She needed…
“They aren’t long enough.” He thrust lazily a few times. “They can’t reach deep enough. They can’t hit that spot that makes you squeal when I’m fucking you.”
No, they weren’t nearly long enough.
“You need my cock. Say it.”
Tatiana wasn’t sure how she managed it, but she kept stubbornly silent.
He gave a humorless laugh and reached over her head. With a whir of noise, the jets in the tub started. She expected the ones placed around the side of the tub. It was the rush of water below her that really startled her, streams blasting against her legs, another right below her ass, the water hitting her sensitive skin.
Wyatt arranged her like a doll, forcing her to sit right on top of one of the forceful jets, so it tunneled between her legs. “Jesus Christ, Wyatt!”
“I’ve never used these before. Tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”
Bastard. They both knew he was doing everything exactly right. His gaze was locked on her face, two fingers moving by touch alone as they opened up her pussy lips, giving her no place to run from the directed water. She squirmed against the bonds he’d tied, trying to free herself so she could…she didn’t know what. Grab him and force him to fuck her?
He thrust three fingers inside of her this time and combined with the jet, she nearly climaxed. Ten years ago, it had taken the two of them three books and a weekend of fingering before Wyatt had figured out how to stimulate her G-spot. Now, he hooked those fingers inside of her and rubbed, finding her G-spot as easily as if he had never forgotten it. “Well, hello, old friend,” he murmured as she writhed.
“Wyatt,” she sobbed, straining to get away, or get closer, she wasn’t sure which.
