When he withdrew, his muscles were tense. He was high already, high on her. He shoved his hips back down between her parted legs. The blood thundered through his veins, his rapid pulse echoing in his ears, quieted only by her moans, and that ball-twisting yell she next made when he thrust into her pussy again.
He dropped over her, his hands sliding up her arms, caressing her, then down her rib cage, his heated whisper in her ear. “Now you will know what true pleasure is, Monica. Roland can’t give it to you. Nobody can but me. No one can replace what you really want. No other man will be me.”
She tossed her face, her face ravaged in ecstasy.
He edged back and braced up on his arms. “You can let go sometimes … only when you’re under me … completely protected by me. Possessed. Penetrated. By me. Being watched. By me. You know I’d do anything for you. Anything.”
She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut on the next thrust, her hips angling to receive him—every throbbing, pulsing inch of him. “That’s what scares me the most.…”
The confession undid him, and he growled, pumping faster, with more desperation, clenching her face between his hands, licking her lips hungrily. “Accept me, Monica. Take me. I want to be yours.” In that last final thrust, he barked out in pleasure, then he quickly pulled out, and started rubbing and spilling all over her pelvis and the outer lips of her pussy, the head of his cock stroking her pearly nub until she broke apart.
He watched her convulsions seize her, the sight filling him with thrilling possessiveness.
He greedily fitted his mouth to hers as her shudders subsided, then set loose her legs first, followed by her arms, and as soon as he freed her, Monica lunged at him. “Give me that,” she said breathlessly, going up to her knees on the bed, her breasts pressed against his diaphragm as she reached up to grab the binding.
“I don’t think so,” he said, laughing, as he raised it above her head.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport. Let me tie you up.” Their bodies rubbed as she again made a try for it, their chests slick and hot, and his cock, only partly softened, immediately shot up.
His voice roughened. “Why would you want to tie me up when I can pleasure you better with my hands free?” He cupped her breast in his hand and explored the rosy peaks with his fingers.
“Because…” Her voice was throaty and soft with arousal as she caressed his hard chest and kissed him, her mouth hot and wet as she thirstily suckled on his tongue. He seized one of her hands and curved it around the base of his cock, his heat burning in her palm, the air crackling around them. “Are you going to kiss me here again?” he asked gutturally.
She nodded, and the thought drove him crazy, made his scrotum tighten and his dick stiffen with need. Monica was on her knees, trembling with need. He’d never do this for another woman; he’d always done the tying. But the thought of her pleasuring him in any way she wanted to pleasure him made him want to groan and roll over like a dog and play dead. He gave her the fastening, then edged back on the headboard, his heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest.
Their bodies were naked and moist from lovemaking, and he watched, enraptured, as her breasts jiggled as she maneuvered to fasten him. His mouth watered with wanting to feed from her nipples, her pussy, and although he forced himself to relax against the headboard, his erection was not relaxed at all. Neither was Monica’s sex, looking as wet as he’d ever seen it. Nor her nipples, looking darker, duskier, after their lovemaking.
“When did you get this?” she asked in a cottony whisper, stroking her fingers over his tattoo.
“One drunken night … when the girl I loved refused to kiss me.”
She looped his tied wrists up on the hook, and suddenly stopped to stare, her eyes wide and a stormy blue, her cheeks flaming bright red. “Don’t say that word,” she murmured, then her fingers trailed downward. His stomach contracted when she led them along each ab square, her tongue following, licking him. Tasting him. Sending his senses wildly spinning.
His voice thickened as his toes curled from the pleasure the swipes of her tongue were giving him. “I’ll say it until you’re used to hearing it.”
She paused, and he watched her struggle to gather herself. Then she slid her hands over his chest muscles and traced his nipples with both her fingers, lightly stroking the two small brown points, dark and aroused, his chest rising a little faster as she pinched them.
“God, I love your touch. I love the way you smile at me, in a way nobody gets to see but me.”
She shuddered as she bent to press her lips to his belly button, and his cock accidentally grazed across her smooth flat belly. He jerked and groaned at the tantalizing sensation. He was pulsing with need, the blood rushing in his groin, and a shudder wracked through his body at the accidental grazes against her hot skin. His nipples tingled under her soft kisses, the circular movements of her fingers.
His voice went deeper still, barely audible through his need. “I love that you’re strong and independent, but that you still give yourself to me like you trust me to take care of you. I love…” He groaned from the gut-wrenching pleasure of her pinches. “Your mouth … your hands.… you drive me so crazy. I love your eyes. Look at me.”
She lifted her glazed eyes to his, and he murmured in encouragement, his balls drawn up with need. “Try it. Tell me what you love. You love Davenport’s, Monica.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded, her eyes heavy and dilated.
His voice rasped in his throat. “What else do you love, princess?”
When she stared into his eyes, breathing from her mouth, with those white teeth gnawing the lips he hungered for, he found himself straining forward to capture them, which surprised her.
Her sound of delight stumbled into his mouth and Daniel swallowed it just like he wanted to swallow her, growling when he noticed she’d gone still on the bed, tilting her mouth upward in offering, not moving a single muscle except her lips on his as though she were the one tied, the one who couldn’t move or breathe. “Do you love the mouth you’re kissing?” he thickly whispered, licking the seam of her lips. “Tell me you love my mouth. My touch.” Me.
She pulled back only to breathe, then she grabbed his jaw and crushed his mouth again, silencing him.
He groaned, tangling his tongue fiercely with hers. Holy God, his chest felt about as wound up as his cock, the emotions bursting through him. She dragged her lips down the tendons of his throat and went to his neglected nipple. Pleasure shot to his toes when she ministered to it, making him grumble, ?
??That feels good, baby.”