Then it’s dark.
I can hear Aaron breathing and sense him next to me, and all my senses are on high alert. The anticipation sizzles over my skin…all the places he could touch are suddenly aching. His position is confirmed when he drags dining chairs away from the table to make my body more accessible.
Then he presses downy-soft kisses along my cheekbones and across my lips, and I exhale. This isn’t a mistake. This is what I need.
“God, your freckles,” he says, kissing the bridge of my nose where they are most prominent. “And your lips. They’re so sexy.” His tongue licks at the inside of my top lip, and I open my mouth to seek out his tongue with mine, but he isn’t close anymore. Breath gusts against my armpit and I feel him inhale. “The way you smell makes me so fucking hard,” he says, licking up the side of my breast, nuzzling it with his nose. “Your skin is so soft and perfect…I just want to mark you.”
He bites down on the side of my breast, and I flinch, more from the shock than the pain. There is a warm swipe of tongue against my nipple, and then the cool air pinches it erect. Aaron bites there too, and I arch my back at the sensation, drawing my hands down instinctively to cover myself. But he forces them back over my head. “Keep them there, or I’ll tie you,” he says gruffly, tweaking my other nipple then rolling it hard between his thumb and finger. “Are you getting wet, Nicole? Are you thinking about me fucking you? Or maybe slipping my tongue into your pussy? Is that what you want?”
It’s exactly what I want. Every last dirty word, but I can’t admit it to him. It’s too much, requiring confidence that I don’t have.
“Let’s see what your pussy says, shall we?” he whispers against my ear, and then his soft footsteps move further away. I feel his hot hands on my knees, pressing for me to open them, but I kept them firmly closed. With the blindfold on, I can’t see what I look like to him, and the resulting vulnerability is an uncomfortable sensation. His hands don’t force, but instead slip up my thighs until they’re spread over my hips, thumbs pressing inward into the crease at the top of my legs. Folding his fingers into the top of my panties, he runs them over the soft hair of my pussy, stroking backward and forward in a rhythm that is maddeningly gentle. He kisses the spot where my thighs are pressed together, slipping his tongue between them, licking lazily, and then moves to kiss me over the fabric of my knickers. It feels like he lays his face there for a few seconds, resting over my most private place. “Baby,” he whispers. “Open your legs. Let me see your pussy. Let me in.”
I moan and writhe as he parts my legs so slowly it almost feels as though it’s happening to someone else. “Keep them bent,” he says, putting my legs into the position he wants, feet about two foot apart, killer heels resting against the table. I panic about scratching the surface, but then remember that he’s loaded and probably has a French-polisher on retainer.
“You’re so wet.” The press of his finger against my opening is maddeningly soft through the damp fabric of my knickers. He traces either side, and it’s as though he’s delaying the pleasure, taking his time to savor before he reveals me fully.
“Touch me,” I say, breathily.
“I am, baby, I am.” There’s a smile in his voice that I wish I could see. He likes making me wait, of that much I am sure.
I hear him moving again, and then the press of his tongue on my clit, wetting the fabric as it moves against me. “How much do you want me to move this little slip of fabric to the side?”
I shake my head, refusing to beg him.
“I could easily just pull these little white panties out of the way and slip my tongue between your pussy lips…lick up and down until you come against my tongue. It would feel so good, wouldn’t it?” He presses slightly against my clit.
“Oh,” I moan. “Just do it.”
“Beg me.”
“No,” I try to pull my legs together, but his body is between them, and then his hands force them back into the position he wants them in. “I won’t fucking beg. If you want to do it, just do it; otherwise, let me up.”
Aaron is quiet for a while, and I strain to hear what he’s doing. I want to see his face, but I’m still blindfolded. I can imagine what he looks like; the furrow between his brows and the flash of anger in his eyes.