Page 23 of Embracing the Beat
He smirks. “Depends on you.”
“On me?”
He nods. “Should I punish you for not doing what you were told?”
“P-p-punish?” The word both scares and excites me.
“Mmm.” Dropping his head, he drags his nose along my neck. His lips settle on my galloping pulse, and my hips shift restlessly on the bed.
I need more, but he straightens again, breaking the connection between us. I can’t stop the whimper that escapes as need overwhelms me. He unbuttons his cuffs, rolling the cotton up his forearms as he rotates and searches my room.
“This’ll work.”
He grabs the scarf threaded around the door handle of my closet and steps closer.
“W-w-what are you going to do with that?” I drag my tongue across my lips, hoping to relieve the Sahara-like sensation overwhelming them.
“Trust me,” he promises. Lifting the scarf, he wraps it around my eyes until I can’t see anything.
“West?” Without my ability to see, I pick up the tremors of uncertainty in my voice.
He wouldn’t leave me like this, right?
“I’m here.”
The bed dips, forcing me closer to him, and the callouses along his fingers drag up my arms to rest at the straps of my bra. Had I imagined in a million years something like this happening, I would have chosen more carefully than a basic white bra and panties.
“No frowning.”
His lips brush against mine, once, twice, before settling more firmly against me, his tongue licking along the seam until I part them, moaning at the taste of him—slightly spicy like the whiskey and citrusy from the orange garnish, but there’s something else. Something uniquely him.
He coasts his hands along my shoulders, burrowing under me to flick the clasp of my bra and drag it down my arms. Cool air washes along my nipples, tightening them almost painfully as my bra tangles with the tie at my wrists.
He groans, the sound deep and sexy, heightening my arousal further.
“You. Are. Stunning.” His words are bitten out, like he’s in pain, but his fingers keep their unhurried pace, gliding along my sides in a caress that would be ticklish if I wasn’t turned on to the brink of combustion.
He traces along the undersides of my breasts, and I shift to try to move him where I want him. I don’t get very far before the length of the tie holds me in position.
“Touch me,” I beg.
He chuckles. “I am.” To prove his point, he lifts his fingers high, circling my nipples without touching them.
I’m going to die. This is torture, having his hands on me but not exactly where I want them. Where I need them. My panties are soaked, and my breasts ache with the need for him to touch me. Completely. Everywhere.
“West,” I moan.
“Why touch when you can taste?”
His question registers in the split second before his mouth claims my nipple, and I arch up, immobilized by the tie forcing my arms in place. Pure, unfiltered desire crashes over me as his lips, tongue, and teeth tease the tight bud. My thighs squeeze, seeking friction I can’t give myself since my fingers are trapped above my head.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, moving from one breast to the next. The scruff on his cheek drags across my breasts, heightening the soft sensation of his mouth as it surrounds my other nipple.
“Please,” I beg, although I’m not sure whether I’m pleading for more or to be released from this torture. Every part of me aches, desperate for his touch, but at the same time, pleasure buffets my body in waves.
“Please, hmm?” His hum resounds against my neck. How is it possible for those vibrations to travel to settle in my core? “Please, what, I wonder? Less?” He leans back, cool air rushing across my breasts, and I whimper. “More?” His hand settles on my hip before he runs a finger along the edge of my panties.
“More. Definitely more,” I answer.
