Chapter 10 #4
I swallow slowly, the erection growing in my jeans becoming painful against the zipper as she greedily grinds down on me. She begins rocking and swirling her hips, alternating between the two. Her arse pops up behind her like she’s fucking double-jointed.
“Fuck me, Sloan.” I press my forehead to her chest. I’m quite positive I won’t live through this experience but, bloody hell, it’ll be worth the ride.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” she says, slowly undoing a couple of buttons on her blouse right in front of my face.
I pull back to watch her unfasten three more before she slips her hand inside the material, revealing a white lace bra and a whole lot of lush skin.
She drags her finger down the swell of her left breast and hooks the cup of her bra with her index finger.
A hint of her pink nipple peeks out, and I know instantly that I will do whatever the fuck she wants me to do.
“You tested me last night. Now I’m testing you today.” She pulls off the thin, black scarf from around her neck and holds it out in front of me. “Just let yourself go to only follow my commands. I promise you, it will be worth it.”
Darkness consumes me as she wraps the fabric around my eyes and takes away the arousing sight of her.
As a texture sensitive person, it’s a disarming feeling to have my sight taken away from me.
Seeing what’s coming helps me prepare for things that may cause a negative reaction from me.
But I trust Sloan more than most when it comes to my body.
She’s known how to touch me from the second we met.
And the light in her eyes that seared into me just before she blindfolded me turns me on more than the flesh on her body.
If this is what she needs, I’m going to give it to her. One hundred percent.
Her lips brush against my earlobe as she pulls the knot tight. “Trust me, Gareth. Those moments when you want to stop, when you want to think, when you want to control…Just push yourself past those feelings. Force yourself to be in the now with me. No past. No future. Just my voice.”
I can feel my Adam’s apple bob in my throat from the sultry tone and I want it. Now. I want my jeans off. I want her clothes off. I want to be inside of her. I want everything she’s denying me.
More than anything, I want to be free. From my mind. From my thoughts. From my past and my future. I want this.
“Let’s do this, Treacle.”
My panties are soaked as I slide off of Gareth’s lap and stare at his gladiator body, shirtless and blindfolded in front of me. His scruffy jaw. His chest rising and falling in suspense as the sound of my clothes dropping to the floor narrates the scene.
It’s erotic as hell. To have a man so strong, so masculine, so intense and mysterious just sit here and wait for my next move is the most sensual experience of my life.
“What are you doing there, Tre?” he asks, his voice more timid than before. The anticipation is clearly weighing heavily on him.
“I’m getting naked.” I bite my lip so I remain serious because this is serious.
He’s trusting me to be confident, and I’m trusting myself to be woman enough for this.
That’s why I had to do this blindfold thing.
I said it’s for trust and it partially is.
Mostly, it’s because I feel like I need a barrier between us.
A shield to hide the crazy nerves roaring in my limbs.
I don’t want to be nervous. I want to be brave. I want to dive into this arrangement head first and live for once in my damn life. I can do this.
Once fully naked, I glance at my reflection in the glass wall of his closet.
My heart falters. I barely recognise the woman staring back at me.
She’s naked and curvy, and her hair is tousled in a sexy, effortless sort of way I could never recreate on purpose.
She has a wild, excited look in her eyes that I haven’t seen in a long, long time.
The idea is insane because I work in fashion. Mirrors and appearance are the cornerstones of what I do. I take great care to present myself on a level that my clients will be comfortable with. I look the part of a stylish stylist.
But at some point, I stopped looking at my reflection. I was focused on the clothes, and the hair, and the makeup, but I didn’t actually see the person staring back. Maybe it’s because I didn’t like who I saw.
But I like who’s staring back at me now. I like her a lot.
“Sloan?” Gareth’s voice snaps me out of my reverie.
My reply is instant. “Stand up.” My jaw is taut, legs wide, eyes assessing his every muscle.
His furrowed brow lifts curiously as he uses his thick forearms to push himself to a standing position.
Now that I’m completely naked and barefoot in front of him, he seems like a giant.
I’m five-nine, but I push six foot in heels, so Gareth is normally only an inch or two taller than me.
As we are now, my eyes barely meet his jaw.
It doesn’t slow me down. “I’m going to touch you, Gareth. A lot,” I state, stepping so close to him that I can feel the heat of his skin on my nipples. “Will that be okay?”
The wrinkle in his brow indicates that he’s nervous. “S—sure.”
“You have to trust me, Gareth,” I reply, pressing a firm hand on the thick bulge in his jeans. “If you put all your trust in me, you don’t have to worry about your texture sensitivity. I’ll tell you how to feel.”
His throat moves with a slow swallow as he nods. “Okay.”
“Good,” I husk and blow cool air against his chest.
A deep noise rumbles from his throat as goosebumps flare up over his pecs, his nipples becoming impossibly firmer.
“Take your jeans off.”
He does as he’s told. When he stands to his full height again—shoulders wide, legs thick, muscles tense and waiting—it feels like I’m standing at the helm of a ship during a perfect storm. A storm where anything could happen. Death, life, crash, or the most exhilarating ride of my life.
Without hesitation, I move to press my bare flesh against his. Smooth against scratchy. Soft against firm.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs when his bare cock rubs against my lower belly.
I press my lips to the mound of his pec. “I intend to,” I reply, dipping my head and swirling my tongue around his nipple.
“Christ,” Gareth falters. His hands wrap around my body in response, one in my hair and the other cupping my ass cheek.
I bite down on the nubby flesh and he hisses loudly. “You’re not supposed to be touching, Gareth.”
His hands drop, and I glance down to see them fisted at his sides in frustration. If I could see his eyes, I am sure they’d be shooting daggers.
“This is making me crazy, Sloan.”
“Good.”
“I want to feel you.”
“I’m letting you.”
“With my hands.”
“Well, where’s the fun in that?” I slide my hand down his forearm and twine my fingers with his, pulling them up so they are between us. “Besides, this is about my control. Not yours. Stop trying to rock the boat.”
The tense muscle in his jaw relaxes. “That’s your second boat pun. I’m going to start to confuse you with my brother Camden if you’re not careful.”
“Does this remind you of your brother?” I ask, placing his hands on my breasts.
His smartass remark is completely forgotten when he realises what he’s touching.
If there’s one part of my body I can say that I’m proud of, it’s my breasts. Motherhood didn’t ruin them like it does for so many women. Mine remain the same teardrop, handful they were before. No more. No less.
Gareth’s rough palms massage the two masses of flesh like a caveman testing the strength of a rock. I stare down at his hands on me, grateful for the blindfold because it allows me the freedom to watch unabashedly. His skin is so tan and virile compared to the pale complexion of my chest.
I stifle a moan as he gently rolls my nipples between his fingers. The pressure causes a warmth to shoot through the core of my body, and I have to grip his elbows for balance.
“It’s like I’m reading Braille,” Gareth says, his jaw slack as he continues blindly assessing every inch. “You know I’ve yet to see these in the flesh, right?”
“I’m aware,” I croak, my need becoming too much for me to handle. “I need you to sit down.”
His low chuckle is like fresh oxygen as he reaches backwards for the sofa and lowers his naked body onto it.
Without a word, I walk over to his nightstand where I recall him grabbing a condom from the last time.
I am pleased to see he still has several left.
When I grab one, my eyes catch sight of a tiny piece of familiar black fabric.
I grasp the bundle and spread it out to see it’s the ripped panties from our first night together.
He kept them all this time? I don’t know if I should be touched or creeped out.
“Sloan, where are you?”
“I’m right here,” I reply, shaking off my thoughts and returning to where he waits for me.
I rest one knee on the sofa beside him and press my front against his side, allowing some delicious skin-on-skin action as I comb my hands through his thick hair. He practically purrs when I tug his head back and run my tongue along his throat.
“Do you like that?” I ask, nibbling on his earlobe and tightening my grip in his hair.
“Yes,” he pants.
“Do you want more?”
“God, yes.”
I bring my other knee up so I’m kneeling next to him, my ass arched up as I splay one hand on his thigh and one on his shoulder. I kiss my way down his chest, his abs, careful to avoid his dick when I press open-mouthed kisses on each of his muscled thighs.
Removing my hand from his thigh, I grip his length in a sudden, strong embrace.
“Oh fuck.” He bites his lip and shifts uncomfortably in the seat as I test the firmness of his length, blowing cool air on the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Gareth?”
“Treacle, I’ve wanted you to fuck me for the past year.”
“Say that word again.”
“Which one?”
“You know which one.”