Looking Inside

Her breath stuck in her lungs. Did he worry she wasn’t sincere about her desire? He lifted his head and she saw the pinpricks of light in his night-darkened eyes.

“You do surprise me,” she said with quite force.

“That’s good. Because just about everything you do surprises me in the best kind of way.”

For a few seconds, they just regarded each other in their private little world as the city slid by them. And then, still holding her breath in her lungs, Eleanor pushed herself back off his lap and slid down his shins until her knees hit the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She reached under his coat and planted her hand between his thighs. “Surprising you,” she whispered fervently. His face was shadowed, but she saw his smile slowly fade from his face as she moved her hand along the shaft of his cock where it pressed against his jeans. She wanted to crow when she felt him swell against her palm.

Greedier now, she rapidly unbuttoned the lower buttons on his wool coat and then started to attack the fly of his jeans. He suddenly caught one frantic hand and curled his fingers around the base of her skull, halting her. She looked up at him wide-eyed.

“Not now, Eleanor.”

“Why not?” she wondered, because the idea of bringing him to climax with her mouth in this romantic setting had enflamed her. She wanted to hold him captive again, have him at her mercy. She saw his jaw clench tight.

“Because I don’t want to feel pressured. I want to take my time and savor it the first time I watch my cock slide between those beautiful lips of yours.”

“You don’t want to do it in a public place, do you?” she asked breathlessly after she’d recovered from his illicit description.

“It’s not that. We’re all alone up here. I just don’t want you to do me the first time in a rush or in bad lighting,” he said matter-of-factly, reaching for her. He urged her to come back up on the bench. She sat next to him, their sides pressed tight. “I mean, I do want to. Trust me, I do,” he amended gruffly. “It’s just not the moment.” She glanced at him hopefully, his addition going a long way to soothing the sting of hurt at being rejected for her impulsivity.

He shook his head. “You’re something else, do you know that?”

He slipped his hand beneath her coat and cupped her rib cage. Her sweater was still bunched up above her breasts. His warm hand felt divine rubbing against prickly skin. Her nipples pulled tight. He dipped his head and spoke next to her lips.

“You love to be the one in control, don’t you?”

“No, it’s not that,” she whispered. “You must know how much I liked it when you . . . did what you did last night.”

His curving mouth caused something to tighten at her core. “I was hoping you liked it as much as you seemed like you did.”

“Oh, I liked it, all right,” she admitted dryly. “I’m not interested in being in control of this. I just . . . like to make you happy.”

“And that means torturing me?” his hand slid over a breast. Her nipples were still exposed over the top of her bra. He squeezed the flesh, his fingertips rubbing the aching crests.

“No. It means exciting you,” she whimpered.

“You do excite me. You like seeing the evidence of that. Don’t lie, I know that turns you on, Eleanor.”

She pressed her lips together in a stubborn gesture, but mostly she was focused on his hand massaging her breast. His mouth went hard when she refused to reply.

“If you really want to send me over the edge, then do what I say,” he said. “I want to tell you to suck me. I want to watch while I spread those lips I’ve been fantasizing about nonstop. I want to control the pace. I want to come when I’m ready, not in a rush because we’re pulling up to the dock. Okay?”

A quiver of anxious arousal went through her. “Okay.”

She saw the flash of his white teeth. He circled his palm over her breast, applying a delicious, firm friction against her turgid nipple. “I can’t believe you don’t have any experience with sexually dominant men or being a submissive.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he murmured, plucking at her parted lips. “You’re a natural submissive . . . unique, because you like to work me into a frenzy . . . but still a sexual submissive. In the end, you are.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered doubtfully, distracted by his firm, warm lips.

“I do. Hold up both your breasts for me. Push them together.”

She did it without pause. She cupped them, plumping them together. Her forefinger hooked the edge of her bra and pulled it down an inch, fully exposing her thrusting, sensitive nipples.