“Hmm. Come here, Mistress Ellie.”
She tortured them both by dangling one breast close enough that he could, and did, run his tongue over the nipple visibly straining against the wispy barrier.
“Closer,” he demanded, flicking his tongue over her again.
“Closer, please, Mistress Ellie,” she corrected, unable to stifle a smirk, even as her nipple tightened and ached to feel his lips.
Predictably, he read her body’s reaction. Instead of giving her what she craved, he relaxed against the pillow with a slow, confident smile. “Take off these handcuffs, and I’ll lick a hell of a lot more than one nipple.”
Arching her brows at him, she picked up the blindfold, ran it leisurely through her hand, and then pulled it taut. “Don’t tell Mistress Ellie what to do.”
“If Mistress Ellie puts that blindfold on me, it’s going to be a damn long time before those pret
ty little breasts get the attention they’re begging for.”
“Mistress Ellie doesn’t appreciate threats,” she replied in her strictest voice, and attempted to tie the blindfold on him even as he made a move to evade.
“Ow! Jesus, why not yank all the hair out of my scalp?”
Oops. She untied the knot and started again. “If you’d be still for one lousy second—”
A long-suffering sigh signaled his capitulation. “Doc, I can’t tell you what a turn-on this is.”
With the blindfold in place, she unceremoniously pressed the heel of her hand against his forehead and shoved him back against the pillow. Then she scooted down until she straddled his hips. That’s when she discovered, despite his complaints, he wasn’t completely turned off.
Pausing a moment, she sat back to appreciate the sight of him all bound and shirtless and annoyed. He expelled a breath.
She rolled her eyes and released the front clasp of her bra. The small noise filled the room, as did the rustle of fabric when she slid the garment down her arms.
“Okay,” he muttered, “that might have been slightly hot.” The surge of his erection between her thighs suggested he found it more than just slightly arousing.
Empowered, she leaned forward until the very tips of her breasts made contact with his chest. He sucked in a breath and groaned.
“Shh. No talking.” To enforce the rule, she planted a kiss on his unsuspecting mouth. Excitement caused her to slam her lips down on his harder than she’d meant to. He angled his head up and returned the kiss with equal fervor, using his teeth and tongue to turn captor into slave.
Determined to exploit her advantage, she trailed her mouth over his chin and jaw, taking tiny bites as she went. When she moved to his throat, a cautionary “Ellie” rumbled against her lips. Undaunted, she kissed a line from his Adam’s apple all the way down to the waistband of his Levi’s. He shivered, probably as much from the sensation of her hair tickling his skin as anything she did with her mouth.
Time to bring her hands into play. Again, giving him no tip-off as to her next move— gotta love the blindfold—she cupped him through his jeans.
“Oh, fuck,” burst from his lips in a breathless protest, but he dug his heels into the mattress and lifted his hips so he could push himself deeper into her hand. Continuing to cup and rub him with one hand, she undid his fly with the other. The corded muscles in his arms flexed as he gripped the rails of her headboard. His jaw tensed on a groan.
“Enough,” he panted. “You’ve proven your point. I’m turned on. Untie me now.”
…
Mistress Ellie merely laughed—a low, unrepentant sound—and continued to fondle him while he jumped and twitched in her hand like a puppy eager to be petted. Then his jeans were moving south, her hot mouth closing around him, and clear thought became impossible.
The inability to think didn’t stop his mouth from running while she amused herself between his legs. He knew that much, because he could hear his own conflicting words—God, don’t stop, don’t ever stop… Christ, stop. You’re killing me. She pretty much ignored what he said and handled him as she saw fit, continuing the sweet torture until he broke his own etiquette rules and indiscriminately thrust his hips in an effort to go deeper.
Again, with no warning whatsoever—Mistress Ellie apparently wasn’t a big fan of advance notice—she slid away. “Patience, Tyler,” she whispered, then burned a path from his navel to his earlobe with her tongue while a noise he could only describe as a helpless plea emanated from the back of his tight, dry throat.
She caught his earlobe between her teeth and bit. He inhaled sharply and her sweet, evocative scent assailed him. “We’ve got one more piece of wardrobe to deal with.”
God help him, what kind of insanity had her book recommended now? A moment later her got his answer. He didn’t know whether to thank her or curse her when she gripped his shaft and rolled a condom on, moving leisurely down his throbbing length, turning the small chore into sweet agony. Before he could recover, she shifted and eased down on him.
A lightning bolt of pleasure singed a path straight from his dick to his brain stem. Light exploded behind his closed eyelids. “Jesus, Ellie,” tore from his lips. He was a big guy. She was small and tight. Delicate. He’d never entered her without first ensuring she was good and ready—so ready he could touch and taste it. Tonight he could do neither, but here she was, jumping on without any caution. “Go slow,” he directed between clenched teeth, trying to hold himself in check while her body quivered and clenched around him.
The words provoked more laughter, breathless but triumphant. She began to move—up and down, back and forth, deep and fast—and concern for her comfort disappeared, along with everything else except the feel of her. “We’ve been over this, Tyler,” she said. “You don’t tell Mistress Ellie what to do. Now I’m going to have to punish you.”