"Oh, really?" I have no idea what interesting things he could be talking about--knowing Dallas, they could be anything. I don't ask, though. I'm quite certain that whatever it is, I'll find out soon enough.
Slowly, sensually, he strokes the oil over my back, my shoulders. Then he gets on the table and straddles me. The table is narrow, so it's a tight fit, and I close my eyes, relishing the way his thighs brush my waist and hips. The way the denim of his jeans rubs against my heated, sensitive skin.
I feel him shift, then shiver from the touch of his lips to my spine. It's so sweet and so sensual and so wonderfully erotic that I feel my core clench and I know that I'm wet.
He trails the kisses upward until he teases the back of my neck, and while his lips do a number on me there, his hands slide over my shoulders, slick and hot. He grasps my neck, and I bite my lower lip, wanting to feel more, to feel his grip tighten, to submit.
"You like that," he says.
"Yes."
He says nothing else, but he releases my throat, and I whimper in protest. Then he slides off me, and I want to cry with frustration, wondering if this is some sort of perverse punishment. But he is standing by the table, and this time I can see what he's doing--he's undressing. And I have to say, I very much like the view.
He turns to the side, and I hear the thud of something being laid on the table, but it's down near my legs, and I don't know what it is.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"You said you wanted to feel," he says, but offers no other explanation.
After another moment, he is back on the table, his hands once more slick with oil. He straddles me again, only this time it's skin on skin, and when he slides his hands over my shoulders to my breasts, there's something in them. I glance down, then suck in air. "Dallas..."
"Trust me," he says. "Arch your chest up and close your eyes."
I do, but I also bite my lower lip as he attaches a wooden clothespin to each of my nipples.
"Okay?" he asks, and I make some sort of raw noise in my throat, because I'm not sure okay is exactly accurate.
Except after a moment, I realize I'm not biting down as hard. And the pain I'd felt has transformed into an intense warmth that I don't just feel in my breasts but throughout my body.
"I want you to feel everything," Dallas says, and I realize he's slowly moving down my back. Only this time, he's not stroking me with his hands. Instead, he's using something soft on my skin. A feather maybe. Or fringe?
It's not until he reaches my ass that I realize what it is he's teasing my skin with--a flail. And when he flicks it against my rear, I feel the connection all the way into my breasts.
He's doing what I asked--and damned if it doesn't feel glorious.
After a moment, he tosses the flail aside, and I wonder if he's done with me. Then I hear a telltale buzzing, and if I wasn't so aroused I would have laughed. As it is, I'm craving whatever he has planned.
Except he doesn't intend anything out of the ordinary with the vibrator. It's a small one, and he lifts my body just enough that he can put it under me so that it's not directly on my clit, but so that I feel the rumblings--along with the slow build of a growing pleasure.
As the vibrator teases me, he kisses his way up my inner thighs, the butterfly-soft touches so arousing that I feel swollen and needy. His tongue dips inside me, then his fingers, and then he finger-fucks me as I beg him to go deeper. To stand beside me and fuck me hard.
"Naughty girl," he says, then smacks my ass. I cry out, then moan with pleasure as he thrusts his fingers in deep. He rubs my ass to soothe it, then immediately spanks me again. I expect the same delight when he finger-fucks me, only this time, his fingers ease into my ass, and I just about lose it between that and the vibrator and these damned clothespins.
Over and over he repeats this sequence until I am a mindless blob of lust with only one thing in my mind--to be fucked. Hard and thoroughly. And I want it so badly, I'm willing to beg. Which I do.
"You want to be fucked?" he asks.
"Yes. Yes, please."
"Then tell me you're mine, Jane. Tell me that I'm the one you go to whenever it gets to be too much."
"I am. You are. God, oh god, Dallas, I can't--" It was too much. I couldn't take all of it. The onslaught of sensations. The wildness of the feelings crashing over me.
"Can't what?"
"Can't take it."
"You can, baby. You said you wanted to feel us. This is us. Raw connection. Primal need. You wanted to feel vulnerable, but it's not you who's vulnerable, it's me. Because you can destroy me with a glance. You can cut me down with a look. You can walk away from me, baby, and shatter my whole goddamn world."