she wanted was—
He put his mouth on her.
—that, oh God yes, that .
He suckled her clitoris as he reached up to tweak both her nipples. Licking, sucking, pinching, he made her stark raving mad with need. Beneath the mask, tears leaked from her eyes. Her body was cruising just below climax, reaching, straining for it.
He abandoned one nipple and, once again with the speed of light, entered her with two fingers. He was everywhere, her breast, her clitoris, inside her, a slow, relentless stroke across her G-spot.
Please, please, please.
It started with the small bang of a firecracker inside her, sweeping out, gaining momentum, turning everything molten in its path. She screamed around the gag, cried behind the mask, her body contracting, releasing, exploding. She was nothing but a mass of nerve endings and sensation.
Until finally she became aware of his weight on her, his rough clothes on her skin, his body heating hers, the scratch of his stubble on her chest.
God. It couldn’t get any better.
But her arms were starting to ache slightly with the awkward position, her hands trapped beneath her.
His lips moved against her hair. “Look at who has all the power now,” he said, throwing her words back at her.
He did. And it was just as good as when she’d had it.
Tugging the blindfold off, he tossed it, then removed the ball gag. Her jaw ached slightly, and she rotated it a moment.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“Very hot.”
Then he kissed her, his lips wet with her juice. Her flavors mixed with his. His tongue stole into her mouth, played with her. Oh. Yes. He cupped her head, held her as he angled, opened a little wider, went deeper. Oh my. God. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized that he’d never kissed her. But oh, how good he was. When he pulled back, she was dizzy.
And her hands were free. He’d untied her as he kissed her.
“I like the way you taste, Lola. I like the way you come. You’re perfection.”
She’d never met a man so sensual, so into touch and taste and kinky things, sexual without even getting inside her. The men she had known were all about the end result, intercourse, sometimes even skipping all the sexy foreplay. With Gray, foreplay was an end in and of itself.
“Somehow that didn’t really feel like punishment,” she said slowly, her voice dreamy.
“Punishment doesn’t have to feel bad.”
It most certainly didn’t.
Then she realized her dress was stuck around her middle. She yanked it up.
“Here, let me. Since I untied them.” With light caresses, he fashioned the straps into little bows at her shoulders.
She stood, and he smoothed down the skirt for her. Then, still seated on the couch, he shook his finger at her. “Naughty, naughty, you weren’t wearing panties again.”
“I took them off in the car.”
“Such a dirty little slut.” His gaze was shiny with laughter and the lingering heat of desire. No man had ever made her feel wanted the way he did. Intensely.
Lola wanted to touch him. She wanted to bend down and kiss him again, long and sweet. “I have to go.” But he could have begged her to stay.
He stood and ran gentle fingers through her hair. It was probably a mess.
“Can I fix myself in your bathroom?”
“Of course.” He held out a hand in invitation.
She couldn’t go home with her panties in her purse. What if someone accidentally looked inside her bag and saw what they shouldn’t see? Grabbing her purse off the hall table, she scampered down the hall, her sandals slapping on the hardwood.
She paused at the open door of his bedroom. And for one brief moment, she saw herself spread-eagled on the bed, hands tied to those dark wood bedposts. Her heart did a fast triple beat.
Then she closed the bathroom door. Two bright spots of color flamed in her cheeks, and her hair was a mass of tangles. She tamed them with a small brush. Being naked beneath the dress was decadent, sexy, and deliciously slutty, to
He put his mouth on her.
—that, oh God yes, that .
He suckled her clitoris as he reached up to tweak both her nipples. Licking, sucking, pinching, he made her stark raving mad with need. Beneath the mask, tears leaked from her eyes. Her body was cruising just below climax, reaching, straining for it.
He abandoned one nipple and, once again with the speed of light, entered her with two fingers. He was everywhere, her breast, her clitoris, inside her, a slow, relentless stroke across her G-spot.
Please, please, please.
It started with the small bang of a firecracker inside her, sweeping out, gaining momentum, turning everything molten in its path. She screamed around the gag, cried behind the mask, her body contracting, releasing, exploding. She was nothing but a mass of nerve endings and sensation.
Until finally she became aware of his weight on her, his rough clothes on her skin, his body heating hers, the scratch of his stubble on her chest.
God. It couldn’t get any better.
But her arms were starting to ache slightly with the awkward position, her hands trapped beneath her.
His lips moved against her hair. “Look at who has all the power now,” he said, throwing her words back at her.
He did. And it was just as good as when she’d had it.
Tugging the blindfold off, he tossed it, then removed the ball gag. Her jaw ached slightly, and she rotated it a moment.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“Very hot.”
Then he kissed her, his lips wet with her juice. Her flavors mixed with his. His tongue stole into her mouth, played with her. Oh. Yes. He cupped her head, held her as he angled, opened a little wider, went deeper. Oh my. God. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized that he’d never kissed her. But oh, how good he was. When he pulled back, she was dizzy.
And her hands were free. He’d untied her as he kissed her.
“I like the way you taste, Lola. I like the way you come. You’re perfection.”
She’d never met a man so sensual, so into touch and taste and kinky things, sexual without even getting inside her. The men she had known were all about the end result, intercourse, sometimes even skipping all the sexy foreplay. With Gray, foreplay was an end in and of itself.
“Somehow that didn’t really feel like punishment,” she said slowly, her voice dreamy.
“Punishment doesn’t have to feel bad.”
It most certainly didn’t.
Then she realized her dress was stuck around her middle. She yanked it up.
“Here, let me. Since I untied them.” With light caresses, he fashioned the straps into little bows at her shoulders.
She stood, and he smoothed down the skirt for her. Then, still seated on the couch, he shook his finger at her. “Naughty, naughty, you weren’t wearing panties again.”
“I took them off in the car.”
“Such a dirty little slut.” His gaze was shiny with laughter and the lingering heat of desire. No man had ever made her feel wanted the way he did. Intensely.
Lola wanted to touch him. She wanted to bend down and kiss him again, long and sweet. “I have to go.” But he could have begged her to stay.
He stood and ran gentle fingers through her hair. It was probably a mess.
“Can I fix myself in your bathroom?”
“Of course.” He held out a hand in invitation.
She couldn’t go home with her panties in her purse. What if someone accidentally looked inside her bag and saw what they shouldn’t see? Grabbing her purse off the hall table, she scampered down the hall, her sandals slapping on the hardwood.
She paused at the open door of his bedroom. And for one brief moment, she saw herself spread-eagled on the bed, hands tied to those dark wood bedposts. Her heart did a fast triple beat.
Then she closed the bathroom door. Two bright spots of color flamed in her cheeks, and her hair was a mass of tangles. She tamed them with a small brush. Being naked beneath the dress was decadent, sexy, and deliciously slutty, to
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