Chapter 28 #2
His eyes meet mine as his hands slide up my calves, stopping at my knees. "You know you're different."
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. This isn't just some kinky game for him. There's something deeper happening here, something that scares the absolute shit out of me.
"Different how?" I press, needing to hear him say it.
His hands continue their journey upward, pushing my dress higher until I feel the cool air of his apartment against my exposed center. A possessive growl escapes him when he confirms I've followed his instructions perfectly.
"Different as in I thought this up all for you," he murmurs against my inner thigh. "Different as in I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."
His breath is hot against my skin, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of how drenched I already am, how desperately I want his mouth on me.
"Dane," I whisper, tugging uselessly at the handcuffs.
"I got you," he says, looking up at me with those intense gray eyes. "Trust me."
And God help me, I do. Despite every warning bell in my head, despite knowing men like Dane Wolfe are dangerous, I trust him completely in this moment.
The first flick of Dane's tongue against my core nearly buckles my knees. Thank God for the handcuffs holding me up because my legs have officially checked out of their job responsibilities.
"Jesus," I gasp as he dives under my dress, his broad shoulders disappearing beneath the fabric. His hands grip my thighs, holding me in place while his mouth—holy fuck, his mouth—works magic that should probably require a license.
He laps at me with slow, methodical strokes, exploring every fold like he's mapping territory he plans to conquer repeatedly. Each pass of his tongue sends sparks shooting up my spine. My head falls back as I pant.
"You taste," he growls against me, pausing just long enough to speak, "fucking incredible every time."
"You're still—holy shit—obsessed with this?" The words tumble out strangled as he finds my clit and circles it with that devastating precision I'm getting dangerously used to.
His chuckle vibrates against my most sensitive flesh, sending electric currents everywhere. "More now than the first time, sweetheart."
My hips buck involuntarily, chasing more pressure, more friction, more of whatever magic he's working down there.
The handcuffs clank against the bar as I pull against them, desperate to touch him, to grip his hair, to do literally anything but dangle here helpless while he methodically takes me apart.
"This is exactly where I wanted you," he murmurs, his breath scorching my already throbbing center. "Stretched out. Unable to hide. Completely at my mercy."
"Is this—Jesus Christ—standard procedure of some kind?" I somehow joke, my voice cracking as he sucks on my clit. "Pretty sure this violates several protocols."
He doesn't bother answering with words. Instead, he slides two fingers inside me while his tongue keeps up its relentless attack. The combination has my eyes rolling back, pleasure building so intense I might actually die from it.
My world shrinks to just his mouth, his fingers, and the insane tension coiling tighter in my belly. I'm making noises that would normally mortify me, but right now I couldn't care less.
"Dane," I gasp, yanking uselessly at my restraints. "I'm—fuck—I'm"
Dane abruptly pulls away, leaving me gasping and disoriented, my body pulsing with need. The bastard just took me right to the edge and stopped.
"What the actual..." I start, but the words die in my throat as he rises to his full height, towering over me. His lips shine with my arousal, and the sight is so erotic I nearly combust on the spot.
His eyes are dark storms as he reaches for the neckline of my dress. There's a question in them—one last check—and I give him the slightest nod.
With one powerful movement, he tears my dress down the middle. The ripping sound echoes in the room as the fabric gives way, exposing me completely. Cool air hits my naked skin, and I gasp, equal parts shocked and turned on beyond belief. My nipples harden to points.
"God," I breathe, my voice barely audible.
"No bra either," he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes my insides liquify. "You aim to please. Good girl."
Those two words from Dane's lips… God, I love his praise.
"You're perfect," he murmurs, hands ghosting over my bare skin without actually touching me. The anticipation is torture. "Exactly how I've imagined you. At my complete mercy." His gaze is ravenous, like he wants to memorize every inch of me.
My nipples harden further under his stare, and I arch my back slightly, offering myself to him. The movement makes the handcuffs rattle.
"Are you going to just look," I challenge, finding my voice, "or are you planning to do something about this situation?"
He steps closer until his fully clothed body presses against my naked one. The contrast—him still dressed in his button-up and slacks while I'm completely exposed—makes me feel even more vulnerable.
"Oh, I have plans," he whispers against my ear, his breath making me shiver. "Very specific plans for every inch of you."
His hand slides up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple with just enough pressure to make me moan.
"And we're just getting started."
"Your tits," he growls, "are fucking exquisite." There's something almost reverential in how he touches me, despite the roughness in his voice. "Perfect size, perfect shape." He gives them a gentle squeeze. "Perfect for my hands."
I try for a sarcastic response, but all that comes out is a gasp when he pinches both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, applying just enough pressure to teeter on that delicious edge between pleasure and pain.
"Jesus," I hiss through clenched teeth.
"You like that?" He twists slightly, making me arch against my restraints.
"What gave it away?" I somehow manage to joke, the words dissolving into a moan when he bends down to replace one hand with his mouth.
The hot, wet suction of his lips around my nipple sends lightning straight between my legs. His tongue circles, flicks, then he sucks hard enough to make my head fall back again. Holy fuck, I might actually die here, handcuffed to this man's doorway.
"Your tits are incredible," he murmurs against my skin, switching to lavish attention on my other breast. "Been worshiping them since I first saw you behind that bar."
The mental image of Dane sitting at The Old Haunt, secretly fantasizing about my chest while I mixed drinks is so absurdly hot I feel another rush of wetness between my thighs.
His hands slide down my sides, over my hips, down my legs, until he's gripping my ankles. The journey of his touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. I'm expecting him to stand back up, to continue his torturous exploration of my body, but instead he stays down.
Oh, God.
I watch as Dane settles between my spread legs, his broad shoulders forcing them even wider apart. The position is obscenely exposing. I love the sight of Dane Wolfe on his knees before me.
"You're soaked," he says, his voice thick with want, then his mouth is on me again, tongue flattening against my center in a single broad stroke that has me seeing stars.
This time there's nothing gentle or exploratory about it.
He devours me with a brutal pace, his tongue relentless as two fingers thrust inside, curling to hit that perfect spot that makes my entire body jerk.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," becomes my new mantra as pleasure builds with terrifying speed. My wrists strain against the metal cuffs, the slight bite of pain only heightening every sensation.
Just as the tension coils impossibly tight, ready to snap—Dane stops again.
His fingers freeze inside me while his other hand pinches my clit, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to halt everything.
The approaching wave of pleasure recedes like the tide pulling back, leaving me gasping and confused.
"What the hell?" I pant, yanking at the cuffs in frustration. My body throbs with need, every nerve ending screaming for release.
Dane looks up at me with a wicked smile. "Not yet."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" My voice cracks as his fingers start moving again, building me back up with torturous precision. "This is—oh God—this is cruel and unusual punishment."
He hums against my inner thigh. "You'll thank me later."
And then he's back at it, tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony until I'm right there again, teetering on that exquisite edge?—
Only for him to stop. Again.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" I half-sob, half-laugh in disbelief. My legs shake uncontrollably, and if not for these handcuffs, I'd have collapsed in a puddle by now. "What are you doing to me?"
That's when I remember Tessa's breathless account of her hook-up with that neuroscience PhD student last semester. "He edged me for like an hour, Lila. By the time he finally let me come, I swear I blacked out. Best orgasm of my life."
I'd rolled my eyes at the time, thinking it sounded more frustrating than fun. Now I get it. Boy, do I get it.
"You're edging me," I say, the realization hitting me as Dane's fingers start moving inside me again, slower this time, deliberate.
"Smart girl." He kisses my hip bone. "The longer we wait..." His thumb brushes over my clit, making me jerk. "The better it feels."
"Or I die of frustration first," I gasp as he curls his fingers just right. "That's a possibility too."
"Trust me," he murmurs, and damn it, I do. Despite the exquisite torture, despite hanging here exposed and desperate, I trust him completely with my pleasure.
As he builds me toward that cliff edge for the fourth time, I surrender to it, to him, to whatever mind-blowing experience he's determined to give me.