Her moans swelled in intensity as I did, and suddenly I went off the rails. My mouth found hers, and my hands wrapped around her wrists, just below the handcuffs. I lost my goddamn mind when her lips were pressed to mine. Kissing her was a mistake, and I needed to stop doing it. I used my teeth to nip at her bottom lip.
Focus on her tits, I ordered myself. They were perfect. Tight, pink nipples that were hard knots, brushed against my chest. I snatched one up, rubbing my face over her flesh. My scruff bristled against her skin and Noemi exhaled loudly.
“Oh,” she said, her back arching and shoving herself against me. Her knuckles squeezing the railings were almost white and her muscles strained. I began to fuck hard then. Our bodies slapped together and the force drove her into the mattress. The headboard knocked against the wall. Thump, thump, thump . . . perfectly in time with my rhythm.
Under me, she was desperate, writhing for something, and she probably didn’t even know what. But I did. “You want more?” I asked it with a devilish voice. “Does my good girl need to be fucked harder?”
Her gaze found me through the cloud of lust that filled her eyes. “Yes,” she said between two huge breaths, “Sir.”
Part of me had wished the answer was no. I was aching and wanted to come. All of my self-pleasure since I’d had her on that table hadn’t taken the edge off; it seemed only Noemi could give me satisfaction. I slammed into her, shoving my cock in her tight pussy over and over, while my hand searched for the Hitachi on the comforter. Her eyes closed and she bit her trembling bottom lip. We were both slick with sweat, our skin gliding over one another as she moved beneath me.
I rose up to sit, pushing her knees back and wide open, all while staying deep. Her eyelids blinked when the vibrator sprang to life, and she cried out when I placed it directly on her clit.
The powerful vibrations reverberated through her body onto mine, but it was her tiny, internal clenches that made me moan. I had a hand still on her knee and squeezed, needing something to help me endure what felt so good it should be a felony.
“Shit. Shit, shit . . .” she whined. “Please. Right there.”
I grinned. Sooner or later she’d figure out how sexy it was when she knew what she wanted and asked for it. I did as she said, kept the vibrator firm against her. I watched the slippery stroke of my cock inside and its slide out of her, before I plunged back in to repeat, endlessly.
She gasped for air, right on the edge of orgasm.
“Yes. Come on me, Noemi. Fuck that cock.”
She brought her elbows together over her face, as if to quiet the scream that welled up. And there it was, the sensation I’d wanted. Her toes bent into points, and inside I felt the pulses signaling what was happening.
I made it one lousy thrust before I joined her. My balls tightened and heat shot up my spine, exploding out in a rush of pleasure. “Fuck,” I groaned, dropping the vibrator. Her body milked me, and her scream rang in my head, catapulting me further. The goddamn orgasm kept going. Wave after wave of it, each spurt a new burst of pleasure while she shuddered around me.
I collapsed forward, my head falling on her
heaving chest while the rush faded with each shallow breath I took.
Fucking hell. Thank God she’d been bound to the bed. How long would I have made it with those hands on me, scratching at my shoulders or wrapped behind my neck? I lay there, my head riding the gentle gallop of her breathing that slowed to almost normal.
“Joseph.” Her voice was shaky. “I’ve got pins and needles in my arms.”
Fuck, of course she did. I slid off the bed, grabbed the key from the drawer, and undid the cuffs as fast as I could. When she gingerly brought her arms down by her side, I yanked the condom off and tossed it in the garbage.
“Roll over, lie on your stomach.” There was a bottle of oil in the drawer, and I unsnapped the cap, pouring some in my palm.
“Is that drawer completely devoted to sex stuff?” she joked, but her voice was tight. She tried to hide the grimace from her face as she moved on her stiff arms.
“Pretty much.” There was a lot more in the bottom drawer of my dresser, but she wasn’t ready for any of that. I rubbed my hands together, then set them on her smooth shoulders, kneading the muscles of her neck, her back, down her arms.
“I’m on board with the handcuffs if this happens every time after.”
“You don’t need handcuffs if you want me to touch you. Just ask,” I said. “Or, take off your clothes.” She laughed softly, and it struck me again how much I liked the sound. I glanced at the glasses we’d left on the dresser. “Want your wine?”
“Yes, please.”
This wasn’t something I was used to. I didn’t bring women home with me. I didn’t climb into bed with them afterward, while drinking wine and fighting the urge to have a conversation that didn’t revolve around sex. Yet it came naturally tonight.
I was curious about this heiress who’d given herself to me, even though I shouldn’t allow this to continue. But silence was also nice, and not at all uncomfortable. When she finished her wine, she rolled onto her side, her gaze on my chest. Ah, no. My tattoo.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I followed her gaze, which seemed to trace every delicate line. “It’s my friend Silas’ work. He has a gallery in Wicker Park.” Too much information. I needed to keep my distance if I was going to maintain control.
“Are you a pessimist?” she asked.