Jules
Les walks me back to the alleyway outside my apartment complex, and that’s where we part with a hug. I’m exhausted from lack of sleep these past few nights, but I’m anxious to get back to Cash. He sent me a text half an hour ago, letting me know that he’s waiting, having used the key I left under the mat for him.
I make my way up the stairs, open the door, and I’m struck speechless at the sight before me. Candles light up every surface. The soft glow spools romantic ambience through the space, driving out the horror of Chris’ unwanted visit and everything he brought with it. I lock the door and step into the living room, sensing Cash behind me before his hands settle onto my shoulders.
His lips drift down my neck as he unbuttons the light sweater I wore to go out with Les. “How was dinner with your friend?”
“It was good, but I missed you.” It’s only been a couple of hours, but it’s absolutely true. I thirst for this man like I’d thirst for water after a three-day trek in the desert.
He slides the sweater down my arms and unsnaps my bra, unwrapping me bit by bit until I’m left standing naked in the middle of my living room, skin aglow in the candlelight.
“You’re overdressed,” I complain.
“A problem I plan to fix very soon.” He dips and hauls me into his arms, cradling me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him.
“Did things go well with your wife?” I wind my arms around his neck as he carries me into my bedroom, which is lit up like the rest of the apartment.
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about that right now. We have plenty of time for that later.”
“What do you have in mind then?” I tease, spying a duffle in the corner of the room that I don’t recognize. A thrill travels through me at the sight of that bag.
He really came back, and he’s planning to stay.
He drops me onto the mattress before shedding his clothing. “I plan to engage in plenty of touching, kissing, and fucking you a hundred ways to Sunday.” The bed dips under his weight, and his warm body blankets me. “Definitely no talking.”
“But—”
He presses a finger against the seam of my mouth. “No talking, Jules.” Slowly, he pushes the digit between my lips, and the salt of his skin lingers on my tastebuds. His eyes are metallic with desire in the candlelight, but that finger…
Holy hell, he’s sliding it between my lips in a way that tells me what he has on his mind.
“You said you can’t be scared away. Is that true?”
His finger slips from my lips, and I nod.
“I’m going to hold you to that.” He leaves the bed then returns a few seconds later, and my gaze lands on the tie in his hands. Instead of using it to restrain my wrists, this time he fastens it around my eyes, blotting out the glow of the room.
All of my nerve endings sing with awareness once my sight is taken, every sense on hyper alert.
The cool air on my skin.
The heat emanating from his body.
The rapid sound of his breathing.
The taste of his kiss as his tongue darts between my lips. He moans into my mouth, and I respond in kind, arching into his body, moving to clutch his shoulders. He breaks the kiss and slams my hands to the mattress.
“I’m going to make you ache to beg, but you’re not allowed to.” His breath blasts the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “You’re not allowed to move, either.”
His words send a shiver through me, and I can’t help but shudder. Goose bumps erupt on my skin, and I feel my nipples harden. I’m already a heartbeat away from begging, the tingle in my breasts calling his mouth, aching for the heat of his hands.
“If you say a word,” he says, sliding down my body, lips leaving a teasing path between my breasts, “I won’t let you come tonight.”
My breath hitches, a rebellious plea dancing on my tongue, but something in his tone tells me he’s telling the truth.
He’ll leave me in agony if I don’t obey.
I mash my lips together and swallow with a gulp. The instant his tongue dips into my belly button, my spine bows. I bite my lip to keep quiet. God, he plans to torture me with sensation overload, all the while forbidding me to see or speak.
What a diabolical, devilishly sexy man.
I fist my hands as he moves to my left breast, mouth closing around the sensitive peak, teeth clamping down until pleasure turns to pain. I gasp but manage to refrain from saying a word. He journeys to my right breast before once again lowering to my belly button, tongue hot and wicked on my skin.
Then he moves lower.
I hold my breath as he pushes my thighs apart. His fingers spread me in indecent exposure, leaving every inch of me bare in the candlelight. Somehow, with my sight taken, I feel more vulnerable than ever.
At the first dip of his hot, wet tongue between the folds of my womanhood, I almost fracture.
Almost break the rules.
Almost cry his name in a plea for more.
Staying still and quiet has never been so difficult.
He moans against my flesh, lips closing around my clit, and the skill of his tongue sends me higher and higher, until there’s nothing but sparks behind my blindfolded eyelids. It gives the term “seeing stars” new meaning.
I can’t help the gasping mewls escaping my lips, but gasping and moaning must be okay because his fingers thrust into me, again and again, keeping time with his tongue. I’m dangerously close, and I want to tell him so, but he made it clear I’m not allowed to beg.
I’m not allowed to come, either. The rule is unspoken yet powerful between us, and I’m aching for his permission.
As if he senses my sexual uprising, he pulls back and slows the rhythm of his fingers. It’s not enough. I’m too worked up, but he’s not touching me enough to send me over the edge.
“Christ, Jules. I could watch you like this all night.”
I resist squirming against the mattress. Nails biting into my palms, I thrust my breasts upward, nipples hard and tingly. He never said a thing about not begging with my body. And sweet Jesus, is my body ever begging.
Shaking apart at the joints.
Nothing but a tight wire ready to snap.
The tempo of his fingers triple, and I flood around those digits, too damn close to releasing the rising pressure.
“Don’t come, Jules.”
His deep, throaty timbre is enough to make me climax, but I hold back, teeth grinding together in the effort. His breathing quickens. So does the pulsing around his fingers.
I whimper.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers. “But you won’t come, and all because I told you not too.” He curses under his thready breath. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
I sense movement, then the crinkle of foil followed by the hiss of his breath as he rolls on the condom. Seconds later, he grips me by the hips and plunges into me. “Fucking hell,” he groans. “Come for me.”
He thrusts to the hilt, inducing a massive orgasm that rips through me with such intensity that each wave launches from my throat in a soundless cry, and I scream his name without making a sound at all.