Chapter 26 #2
I squirm under his scrutiny, the need for friction becoming close to unbearable. I shake my head.
He moves higher up my body and grazes his nose along the channel between my breasts. It pushes the blue satin further up my thighs until the conditioned air is lapping at my underwear, sizzling against my hot skin.
“Would my mouth on your perfect tits be enough?”
My mouth falls open and a tainted moan escapes it.
I shake my head.
He walks his hands up the table until they’re either side of my breasts. He lowers himself, his biceps bulging through his shirt, until the hairs along his top lip are brushing the corner of my mouth. I’m so turned on I could cry.
“Do you want me inside you, Contessa?” he breathes heavily.
He nuzzles against my mouth then slowly lifts his head and looks hard into my eyes. “Would that be enough?”
I swallow.
“Take your time,” he says softly. He lowers his hips and rubs his stiffened cock over my clit. I push up into it, relieved for some friction. “I already know the answer but I want to hear it from your lips.”
I throw my head to one side. I don’t recognize myself.
I hate this man. He’s the reason I gave my virginity away too soon.
He humiliated me in his apartment. He sleeps with other women.
He said he didn’t that one time, but I don’t believe him.
Bernadi’s been toying with me. He thinks I’m his for crying out loud.
My stomach drops with the weight of inevitability.
There’s no getting away from it. I want this.
“Look at me Contessa.”
I do as he says, clawing my gaze back to his.
“Do you want to feel my thick cock inside you? Do you want me to fuck you, deep and slow, hard and fast, until you’re screaming for me to make you come?”
My breaths are coming out short and fast.
“Honey, your body is answering for you, but I still need to hear it from your mouth. Tell me brat, do you want me inside you?”
Oh God.
“Yes.”
He lifts his eyes to the ceiling, closes them and releases a triumphant sigh. A second stretches like a held breath, then his lips draw into a wicked smile. “Then you’re going to have to be patient like a good little girl.”
What? I glare at him, my eyes hollowed as desperately as his.
He stands and lifts the hem of my dress, pushing it up to my collarbone. The feathers tickle my nipples. He draws in long heavy breaths, and thoughtfully peruses my body. It only burns me up more, making me squirm.
He then straightens and walks to the bar.
He returns with an ice bucket and places it on the floor beside me.
He dips his hand into the bucket and lifts out a cube of ice.
He holds it over me and tightens his fist around it.
Liquid appears through the cracks in his fingers and a large drop of water collects at the base.
I hold my breath when it drips onto my stomach, then gasp at the shock of freezing water rolling over my burning skin.
Bernadi smirks and holds his fist over my breasts. More drips make me jump and squirm even harder.
He opens his hand and places the ice cube on my chest. I stare it, panting.
“I’m going to make you feel so good, Contessa.” I’m surprised at the gentleness of his voice. “Do you trust me?”
I nod.
“Words, Contessa,” he says, as though he has all the time in the world.
Weirdly, I don’t need to think about my answer—I know what it is. What I don’t know is how to feel about it.
“Yes, I trust you.”
“Good girl.”
He lightens his hold on the ice and pulls it down between my breasts. The melting liquid runs down my sides making my teeth grit. My thighs are shaking and I feel so exposed.
He draws circles with the ice around the circumference of my breasts pulling a moan from my chest, then narrows the circle until it’s touching the dimpled edges of my nipples. I anchor my gaze on them and watch them sharpen under Bernadi’s touch. He’s commanding my body like a puppet master.
My lips grow taut and I dart my tongue out to lick them.
“Your body is begging for this,” he says with a dry throat.
My hips ache to push up toward him, demanding attention, but I manage to solicit a bit of self-respect from somewhere and keep them pressed into the table.
Too slowly, he strokes the ice down my stomach, letting the water pool in my belly button.
He lowers his mouth to the small crevice, dips his warm tongue inside and sucks the water out.
With a soft, “mm” he urges the ice further down, pushing my panties to one side, until it’s rested just inches from my clit.
“Breathe,” he whispers through a smile. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath but a gush comes out then is sucked straight back in again when he draws a circle with the ice around my hardened clit.
I’ve never felt anything like it. Hot blood rushing to my core, swelling my flesh, priming it for arousal. Then sharp, cool ice nipping at the skin, sending spasms of shock along my nerves.
The ice is melting quickly against my opening. Bernadi just holds it there watching it turn to liquid against my pussy. When there’s nothing left between his fingers and my flesh, he leans down and sucks up the water with a soft lick of my pussy. A faint moan sails out of my mouth.
He looks up and inhales deeply, his shoulders rounded with tension. His face is taut with the expression of someone who’s waging an internal war.
Keeping his gaze on mine, he reaches into the bucket and pulls out another cube of ice. He brings that to my opening, the frigid temperature making me jump again. Then, without warning, he pushes it inside.
Icy tentacles spread out from my core to every inch of my skin and I start to hyperventilate. My body doesn’t know which way is up. It’s burning with anticipation and now freezing cold from the inside out.
Bernadi pushes a hand up to my neck. “Slow down,” he orders. “Slow your breathing.”
I do as he asks, anchoring my gaze on his.
“Good girl.”
He shifts to my feet and looks at his handiwork.
I feel sopping wet, as though the cube is melting faster than a polar icecap in the blazing sun.
“Thirsty girl.” His praise makes my toes curl.
Then he rocks forward on his knees and holds my thighs apart with his thick hands.
He leans in and licks me from my back opening to my clit, sucking up the liquid as it spills out of me.
A delirious moan works its way from the base of my chest.
Again.
His tongue is perfection. I don’t need to ask as just one lick has him obsessed. He laps at me furiously, his fingers digging craters in my thighs. He suckles on my clit while squeezing fistfuls of my leg. It’s painful and delicious and in seconds I’m moaning like a wild animal.
He goes back to licking and uses his fingers to move the ice around inside me.
It’s almost completely melted now and my panties are soaked through.
I’m starting to lose sense of where I am and grind against his mouth, drawing a growl from his throat.
Thankfully, he doesn’t let up. In fact, his efforts become more single-minded and he focuses them on my clit, licking and sucking me into a frenzy.
“Benito… I’m going to come.”
He hums his approval into my flesh and I buck up to him letting him feast even harder, then a white light explodes behind my eyes and my awareness narrows to the sensations between my legs and nothing more.
I convulse madly as he finishes me off, not letting up even as I jerk sensitively under his mouth.
Finally, his licks soften and he looks up, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. We stare at each other, both of us short of breath. Then his gaze darkens again.
“On your knees.”
Through the haze of post-orgasm, I wonder how he can be so optimistic. Has he forgotten he’s tied me to the table?
I try to lift my arms and apart from the fact they feel heavy having been restrained, they do actually move—they’re no longer tethered. I sit up and watch him back up towards the curtain-covered balcony, his eyes following me the whole way. “On. Your. Knees.”
He can’t be serious. I glare at him, wondering if it’s appropriate or not to laugh, but he levels me with a dark look. “Contessa, if you want me to fuck you, you have to show me how much you want it. Now crawl.”
There are a million sharp retorts on the tip of my tongue but they won’t come out.
Because even though the idea of crawling to a man makes my blood run cold and challenges my feminist ideologies, I want to do this.
I want to please him. And, if the way he moves his dick is anything like the way he orchestrates his tongue, by God I want him to fuck me.
I drop to my knees and his Adam’s apple moves in a dry swallow. He strokes a hand down his tie then shoves both hands into his pockets. He leans back against the concealed balcony and watches me.
I pull my dress down over my bottom, timidly, then place my hands on the floor.
When I look up, I can see a huge bulge in his pants which is all I need to see to drive me forward.
I crawl slowly towards him. Though my legs and arms are shaking, every inch makes me feel bolder.
About three feet from his shoes I give my hips a slight wiggle and hear a string of Italian curses leave his mouth on a long, tight breath.
I love what this is doing to him. He deserves to feel as out of control as I do.
When my nose is touching his slacks I lift my head. He’s looking down at me with a wild, rabid look in his eye. I slowly rise up to my knees, then keeping my eyes on his, I lean in and lick his dry pants, right over his cock. It jumps beneath my tongue and I can’t help a smile light up my face.
“Get up.” His voice is strained.
I get to my feet and lift my lashes to look up at him.