Revealing Us

I burn to free my hands and touch him, yet at the same time I want them bound. I want to know where we will go next. “I know,” I whisper. “I know, Chris, and it matters more to me than you can imagine that you aren’t just saying that. You mean it. It’s just going to take me some time to fully get them out of my head.”

“We’re going to strip away all the insecurities they put in your head, baby,” he promises, and he slides his c**k back and forth between my legs, sending darts of pleasure down my thighs and back up again. “You and me and a whole lot of pleasure.”

I gasp as he presses inside me, stretching me, and I try to reach for him but can’t, because of my bound hands.

He thinks my past is haunting me, so I can’t handle more than straight-vanilla sex. He thinks that my shyness means weakness, and I want to tell him he’s wrong. But with the feel of him inside me, the heat spreading through me, I can only manage, “What are you doing?”

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” he asks, nuzzling my neck. “I’m making love to you.”

He squeezes my backside, and I moan at the erotic rough-ness in his touch as he pulls me hard against him, sinking his c**k deeper inside me. Filling me completely. And this man does ill me completely, in all ways. I want to do the same for him. “But I thought you were going—”

“To make love to you,” he inishes for me, and his c**k is stroking back and forth, pumping in and out of me, driving me wild. “Yes, baby, I am.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I argue weakly, nearly overtaken by pleasure. It’s a struggle to simply keep my eyes open, but I ight the sensations overwhelming me to plead my case for my readiness for more. He thrusts hard into me, and I’m all but over the edge. Desperation rises in me and with no hands, I have no weapon but to blurt out my protest. “Chris, damn it. Stop. Listen to me.”

His eyes meet mine, and this time I ind hot coals and burning embers. He thrusts again, a wicked smile on his lips.

“I’m listening. Can’t you tell?”

I pant through the pleasure, determined to convince him I’m ready for that “more” we both crave. “Because I was slow to admit that I liked it when you spanked me, doesn’t mean I can’t handle it when you do. Please. Spank me now. I like it.”

His ingers curl around my neck, dragging my lips a breath from his. “I’m going to do that and a whole lot more to you, Sara. Just not now. Not tonight.” His mouth closes over on mine, soft and sensual, but no less wickedly dominant.

I mean to resist, to inish arguing my point, but this kiss is laced with deep longing and passion, a kiss unlike any we’ve shared since I stepped on that plane hours before. He called me his addiction. He is my addiction, my passion. He’s my reason to breathe, and when he begins to move inside me again, I am lost to the sway of our bodies, to the thrust of his cock. Lost to how much this man completes me.

He rolls me to my back and reaches for the sash around my wrists. Reality slams into me and my eyes snap wide open.

“No,” I say, folding my arms close to my chest. “I don’t want you to free me. You didn’t . . . we didn’t . . . We’ve done slow.

I’m done with slow.”

He grabs the sash along with my hands, rough in that sexy way he can be rough, and I silently rejoice at a glimpse of this side of him. “What we did is called avoidance,” he declares and his mouth lowers, lingering near mine, his breath a warm, wet promise on my lips. “And this, right now, is me savoring every second of making love to you. And in case you didn’t know, you’re the only reason I know what that means.”

My breath freezes in my throat, the impossibility of how far we’ve come in such a short time overwhelming me. “I am?”

“You have to know that.”

I’m instantly awash in emotions, and yes, still so intensely, wonderfully, overwhelmed by this man. “I do,” I whisper. “I know because I feel the same way about you.” I try to reach for him but can’t. “I need to touch you.”

He reaches down to untie my hands, and I swear I see him tremble as he tosses the sash aside. With desire? With love? He’s as afected by me as I am him, and it’s this connection I never expected, and I never want to lose. Our eyes lock and hold, the air thickens around us, and words are not needed. We understand each other. We need each other. Chris is inside me, hard and thick, but this is much more than sex. He’s right. It’s making love.

His mouth slants over mine and his tongue presses past my teeth, stroking me at the same moment he curves his hand beneath me and lifts my hips. And with his actions, it’s as if a branch snaps and we tumble into a wildire of passion. The Chris I know doesn’t lose control—but he has, we have, and I’m climbing out of my skin, trying to get under his. His mouth is on my mouth, my neck, my nipple, suckling and licking, and his c**k is driving into me, slow and then fast, fast and then slow.

Time fades and Chris is merciless, punishing me with hard pumps of his cock, and sweet, wicked licks of his tongue. I am lost and found in this one place, in this one man, and I desperately try to hold back, to make this last, but can’t do it. I dig my ingers into his back and I clench around his shaft, dragging him deeper, but never deep enough. This man can never be deep enough.

Release is sweet bliss, jerking my h*ps and stealing my breath. Every nerve ending in my body is alive and tingling with pleasure. Chris buries his face in my neck, his body quak-ing, and I feel the warm, wet heat of his release illing me. A new wave of pleasure washes over me, and it’s far beyond physical. I’m overwhelmed by how right I feel with this man.