For 100 Nights (100 2)

He reaches for them, gathering the strand in his fingers. The gems click and slide against one another, sending another erotic shiver through my body. He lifts the necklace off me, over my head.

“Hands behind your back, baby.”

As soon as I comply, I feel the cool pressure of the pearls being wrapped around my crossed wrists. He binds me just tight enough to hold my hands immobile without straining the delicate string of precious gems. I’m not going to test them. I’m not going to test him, because I know this is only the start of the pleasure he has in mind for me. With Nick, there is always more to come.

Once I’m bound, he takes hold of my chair and drags me back from the table. He steps in front of me, looking at me with a combination of approval and hot lust in his eyes.

“So beautiful.” His fingers skim tenderly beneath my jaw, tilting my face up. “What would you like to try first for dessert?”

I watch as he reaches over to the cart and removes the polished dome lids from the bowls of ripe berries, decadent sauces, and a mound of fluffy whipped cream. I can’t possibly choose, and besides my only true temptation is the man who’s got me totally under his thrall.

“Surprise me.”

His black brows arch in mild amusement. “You told me once that you didn’t like surprises.”

“I’m learning to like a lot of new things with you.”

His mouth curves, and he leans down to reward me with a deep, unhurried kiss. I feel his body swiveling slightly as our lips and tongues tangle. He’s reached for something on the cart. I’m not sure what it is until he brings it up to our joined mouths and I inhale its sweet fragrance.

He draws back, placing the strawberry between my lips. I bite down, moaning as flavor explodes on my tongue. After I chew and swallow the succulent fruit, Nick follows it up with a dollop of cream on the end of his finger.

I wrap my lips around the tip, our eyes locked as I suck him into my mouth and lick the cream away. Now he’s the one breathing heavily and moaning, his body growing tense and rigid as I swirl my tongue over the tip of his finger, then suck it hard inside my mouth.

On a low snarl, he pulls free, only to grasp my face in both hands and hold my head steady as his mouth descends on mine. He licks past my lips, his kiss hungered, scorching.

“I love the taste of cream on your tongue,” he rasps. “I loved watching you wrap this pretty mouth around my cock in the office the other day. Makes me so fucking hard to think about you sucking me dry like that.”

I’m already half mad with need for him, but hearing his desire-roughened voice, hearing him describe the things we’ve done together, makes my arousal almost unbearable. But he’s not ready to show me any relief just yet.

He draws back from me, a merciless glimmer in his eyes. “Open your mouth for me, baby. Tip your head back a little. That’s it. Now let me see that pretty pink tongue.”

I obey him, waiting with my hands secured behind me and my face tilted up to him like a supplicant at the altar. I hold my tongue out, watching as he lifts a small ladle of chocolate sauce and holds it an inch or two above my head. He pours it slowly, watching as I lap at the thick, rich stream, swallowing it down, sip after delicious sip.

It’s difficult to catch every drop. Some of it dribbles onto my lips, onto my chin. Nick doesn’t give me the chance to lick it up. He descends on me, kissing me deeply, his tongue erasing every errant drop.

I moan his name, unable to keep from shifting on my chair as my core floods with heat and longing. I want to reach for him, but the pearls restrict all but the most careful movement. My precious bonds are both a frustration and a titillation.

I’m panting when he breaks our kiss. My body feels electrified and throbbing with the need for relief. I can’t hold back my hopeful sigh when he reaches down to unfasten the tie at my waist, the only thing holding my simple wrap dress together. The garment loosens, and Nick sweeps the black fabric off my shoulders, baring my chest and torso.

“You wore the new bra for me,” he says, approval deep and dark in his thickened voice.

I can’t curb my smile. I’ve got another surprise for him, but since he’s taking so much pleasure tormenting me, I decide to keep the secret to myself for now.

He pets my breasts for a moment, clearly delighting in the way my nipples rise under his touch. Every nerve ending in my body belongs to him. Just as every gasp and sigh and pleasured sound I make is only for him too.

He removes my bra, unfastening the delicate front clasp and sliding the slackened straps down my biceps before his hands come back to me to knead and caress my naked breasts. He kisses my nipples, teasing them with his tongue and teeth until I’m writhing, desperate with stimulation.

Then he reaches for the ladle and scoops up another serving of chocolate sauce. His gaze scorching, he slowly pours the chocolate over my exposed breasts. Thin rivulets fall onto my skin, making my core tighten in reflexive response. I can hardly bear the erotic sensation of the warm spurts of chocolate raining down onto the swells of my flesh and the valley between them. He drizzles more onto the pebbled buds of my nipples, and I can see from the strained look on his handsome face that I’m not the only one being tormented and teetering at the edge of madness.

On a coarsely voiced curse, he sets the ladle aside and drops to his haunches to eat the chocolate off me. Licking, sucking, nipping with his teeth, he leaves me shuddering with desire.

“Not fair,” I say when he draws away from me and rises to his feet. I shake my head. “I want to taste you too.”

He doesn’t argue. From the look on his face, I’m not sure he’d have the will to try.

Unfastening his belt and pants, he pushes the tailored trousers and boxer briefs down his muscled thighs, then hastily removes his shirt. His cock stands hard and heavy in front of my face, more tempting than any of the succulent treats I’ve had tonight.

I lean forward, greedy for him, yet determined to take my time. I tease the soft, broad head with the tip of my tongue, then trace the veined underside of his shaft in a long, slow sweep. When I finally work my way back up and take him fully into my mouth, Nick’s curse is little more than a strangled groan from the bottom of his throat.