He reached for her, but she darted out of the way, leaving his hand adrift and searching for her.
“No. You don’t get to touch until I say so,” she said, her voice quivering. “Please, lay down.”
“Vicki,” he growled, inserting some warning into his voice. Not sure how much more of this he could take.
“Please.” Her voice was small, high-pitched, filled with entreaty.
He couldn’t resist it. He lay down, scooting back until his entire body was stretched out and supine on the bed. “Jesus. You’re killing me, honey.”
She didn’t respond to his words but did offer him a meek “thank you” when he obeyed her command. He felt the shallow dip of the mattress when she climbed onto the bed to sit beside him and waited, breathless, while she did nothing but—he presumed—stare. He nearly leaped out of his skin when she touched him. A light brush of her fingers across his abs.
“You have an amazing body,” she said beneath her breath, her fingers exploring the ridges of his abs. She walked her middle and index finger up the middle of his torso to his chest and—without warning—veered to the left to thumb one of his flat, hard nipples. His back bowed at the incredible sensation. She made a soft sound of happy discovery.
“Your nipples are sensitive. Why am I only just discovering that?” she mused, sounding thrilled. They both knew why. He hadn’t allowed her to touch him much. He felt hot with shame when he thought of the many times she had reached out to do this very thing, only for him to intercept her hands and hold them pinned above her head.
Fuck, no wonder she had called it quits. He had been a dick. He hadn’t done that—been so autocratic and domineering—with anyone before her. That was because she made him feel so much more than anyone else ever could. He had feared that allowing her unfettered access to his body would lead to a complete invasion of his mind, heart, and soul.
He was contemplating his own cowardice when her hot mouth closed over the nipple she had just been thumbing, and he cried out in shock. Her tongue rasped across the sensitized flesh—leaving him fucking wrecked—before she moved on to the other nipple. His hands helplessly grabbed fistfuls of the comforter as he fought to keep himself from touching her. Her teeth scraped over the highly reactive nub before her mouth moved onward and upward. Skimming over his throat, licking at the pulse thrumming in his neck, scattering a line of kisses over his jawline, before claiming his lips.
Ty eagerly opened up—welcoming her in—and lifted his head to deepen the kiss. He was desperate to flip her onto her back, take control, while he knew that he had to let her do this. Even if it fucking killed him. And God knows, it was looking like it would.
Her hands framed his face, and she kissed him sweetly, passionately...
He loved it, welcomed it, wanted it to last forever. When she lifted her mouth, the disappointment nearly crushed him.
Until he realized that her mouth was on the move again.
Downward this time, wasting no time as it slid between his pecs, peppered kisses around his belly button and on the highly sensitive, spasming flesh of his abdomen…
And then she was there. Where he longed for her to be. The kisses stopped abruptly, and all he could feel was her hot, shuddering breath against the wet tip of his shaft.
He waited.
Helpless, enthralled, anticipating…
Waited for her to kiss him there. Wishing he could see her face, wondering what she was feeling, how she looked.
Did she have appreciation, tension, desire, or perhaps hunger on her face? He was so damned desperate to know, his hand moved to the blindfold, eager to rip it away so that he could see and judge for himself how she was feeling.
But then she touched him. A soft, gentle hand cupping and stroking his balls.
The sound he made was embarrassing. A choked, animalistic, muted roar. Wrenched from the very depths of his chest, he was helpless to stop it tumbling from his lips.
Her other hand wrapped around his shaft, giving it an experimental stroke that nearly blew the top of his head off. He wasn’t going to last long. He was going to humiliate himself by coming in scant seconds.
He found himself helplessly thrusting his hips, urging her on, wanting that explosion of sensation.
But Vicki wasn’t done with him yet. Against all odds he managed to assert some self-control over his body, fighting back his orgasm with a willpower he hadn’t known he possessed. She gave him one more, long, tight stroke…and released him.
Ty was no longer capable of forming words. If he were, he would have pleaded with her to continue. To put him out of this sweet agony. The only words he was capable of uttering were of the base four letter variety, and they were liberally sprinkled with feral grunts, pained groans, and muffled growls.