Chapter 21
Casey
London, night…
There was no more time for waiting. There would be no more teasing. My dress pooled at my feet less than five seconds after entering our suite.
“I’m not anywhere near done with you,” he said, unknotting his tie, yanking it off, and tossing it on the floor. That answered one question that had hovered in my mind—he wouldn’t be tying me up with his tie tonight.
I stepped out of my shoes. I wore only my lingerie.
“I want you on the floor,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his strong, hard chest. My mouth watered as I stepped backward.
“Is this another lesson?” I asked, my voice wobbly as I flashed back to the first night in New Orleans when he’d told me to get down on my knees.
He shook his head. “I’m done with teaching you. There are no more lessons. Did you want more?”
“No. I only want you,” I said in a small voice, somehow managing to admit that I was ready to move on.
Where we were headed next I had no idea.
This might be our last night together, until he cut me loose, adrift in the world as a newly-trained woman who’d learned how to let go of all her tightly held need for control.
I shuddered inside at the thought of this ending, but then pushed all the worries out of my mind as he reached the final button on his shirt.
“Good. Because I’m about to do something you’ve wanted. Something you asked me to do. But I’m not doing it as your teacher. I’m doing it tonight as your lover.”
“That’s who I want you to be now,” I said, and the words were easier than I’d expected, so much easier, because they were so damn true.
He swallowed. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down.
Such a vulnerable point on an otherwise hard body.
So much of him was hard and fierce, but so much was vulnerable too.
He’d begun to show more of those sides to me, and I thrived on knowing all of him—all his passion, all his pain, all his hurt, all his hope.
All of him.
“Take everything off,” he said.
I stepped out of my black lace panties, grateful to be rid of the damp scrap of fabric, then my bra, leaving them in a soft heap on the plush carpet.
He groaned at the sight of me, and a ribbon of heat unfurled in my chest—to be this desired was such a rush, such a pure, unmitigated high.
I had never felt so sensual as I did under Nate’s heady gaze.
The low neon lighting in the room set the mood, though the mood had technically been set long ago.
Back in New Orleans one hot steamy night when I’d propositioned my best friend, and he’d said yes.
We’d hurdled down this sensual road through the Big Easy, to our hometown of New York City, and now, here in London.
Only this time, we were shedding the seduction. We were stripped free of games, and relying solely on ourselves.
I didn’t want it any other way.
I didn’t want him any other way.
He grabbed a chair and dragged it over, swiveling it around so the slats faced me. “Hands on the chair. Grip it hard.”
I kneeled before him, knotting my fingers through the wooden slats like I was in church at a pew, praying—praying for release.
A quiver sped through my body, chased with a dash of fear.
But it was the good fear; the kind that twisted and curled hotly through my blood as he led me down this path.
I didn’t know what he planned, but I loved exploring the unknown with him.
Only with him.
He walked behind me, gently covering my hair with his big, strong hand palming my head. I craned my neck, peering up at him. He dragged his hand down my hair, threading his fingers through the blond strands.
“When you first asked me to teach you to let go, I agreed, even though it meant you were learning things to use with someone else. Right now, there’s no teaching.
I’m only taking. I’m taking something I want for me,” he said, and the roughness in his voice sent shivers on a thrill ride down my spine as he shrugged out of his white shirt.
He widened his stance, a foot on each side of my naked legs.
I felt overpowered, thoroughly under his control as electric sparks shot across my skin.
“Take whatever you want,” I said, as he bent over me, his shirt in both hands.
Then he twisted it, round and round, turning the item of clothing into a taut, makeshift rope.
I offered my wrists, and he wrapped the shirt around them, then threaded the material through the slats, tying me to the top of the chair.
He tested the knots in the shirt. “Nice and tight,” he said, then he trailed his fingers through my hair once more, gripping it in a ponytail, twisting it around his fist once and yanking my head back. “What do you think I’m going to take right now?”
“I have no idea,” I said, nerves lacing my voice. My knees dug into the carpet.
“Then let me show you what I want from you. You can start by spreading your knees.”
I did as he asked. Completely exposed to him, I was wide open and waiting. Heat pooled between my legs as I grew wetter with anticipation.
The next thing I knew he was on the floor, sliding under me. His hands were on my thighs and his face was between my legs. “You’re going down on me like this?”
He shook his head, his thumbs digging into my thighs. “I’m not going down on you. You’re going to fuck my face.”
A white-hot bolt of lightning streaked through my body. Desire burned in my veins as I positioned myself over him, straddling his face, watching the dark and hungry look in his eyes.
“It’s all you now, Casey. Ride my tongue. Go to town. Have a field day on me,” he said, and my nipples pebbled as sensations that I’d never felt before raced through my bones. He hadn’t even touched me yet, but his words and his breath so close to the center of my world had my skin sizzling.
He grasped my legs tightly, and even though I was on top of him, he had all the control, with my hands bound and my knees spread. There was nothing left to do but ride his face into blissful oblivion.
“Go fucking wild and let go. Come on my face,” he told me.
I lowered myself the final few inches and his tongue darted out, so eager to taste me.
He moaned loudly when we made contact, my sounds and his murmurs sending jolts through my body.
I rocked against him, pleasure igniting in my core as his tongue and lips worked their magic across my wetness.
Moving my hips, picking up the pace, I gave in to all that I felt with us, to the pleasure that pounded through my blood, to the electric desire that thrummed in my core.
To the wildness of this kind of contact.
That word flashed through my brain.
Wild.
I felt wild with him. Wild and free and reckless as I rocked into his face, grinding, pushing, thrusting. Having a field day. Humping him. Fucking him. Riding him for dear life, holding on with my thighs until my belly tightened, and I felt the first tremor of possibility.
My orgasm wasn’t far off. I was so worked up already from what he’d done to me at the auction, from the way he’d talked to me in the room, and simply from the way he treasured me, even when he was a filthy, commanding, controlling fucker.
Maybe even especially then. I loved that dirty side of him as much as I loved the tender side.
“It feels soooo good,” I cried out as I rocked harder and faster into him. I might have had all my weight on him. I was sitting on his face, after all. But that was what he wanted, and I wanted it too. To ride him to bliss; to come undone as he lay on the floor, prone beneath me.
The sound of a zipper being worked open landed in my ears.
I turned my head as I kept up my frantic pace.
My breath caught in my chest. He’d undone his pants with one hand and was stroking his cock.
“That’s so fucking sexy,” I said, the pressure in my center skyrocketing as I witnessed how utterly turned on he was.
He was so goddamn aroused he had to touch himself.
“Have you done that before while thinking of me?”
Somehow, he managed a nod. And that information launched me off the cliff.
The vision of him fucking his own fist while I rode his face was as hot as anything ever was.
Screw submission. Screw control. Nate was right.
Great sex was two people who clawed at each other, who tore off clothes, who had to have each other.
He licked and kissed me with such passion and desire that I had no choice but to do as he’d told me—to go wild and let go.
“Everything is so good with you. Everything,” I shouted, as I gripped the wood tighter, my fingers curling around the slats, holding on hard as I thrust into his face, riding into a kaleidoscope of neon and color and chaotic bliss, chanting his name over and over.
My legs shook, my heart beat at a million miles an hour, and I shuddered from the aftershocks that rippled through me.
I wanted to sink onto him, to fall to the floor, to simply bask in the glow of this epic orgasm he had wrought from me as the world slowly slipped back into focus, only better, brighter, more beautiful.
But he had other plans, because he’d slid out from under me to stand up and skim down his pants. Turning my gaze over my shoulder, I drew a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, ready and throbbing. He brought his hand back down to his shaft, stroking it.
“I need you,” he gritted out. “I fucking need you so much.”
Then his hands were on my backside, and he yanked me up on my feet.
My hands remained bound on the chair, so I was bent at the waist. He positioned himself between my legs, and dragged the head of his cock through my wetness, drawing another cry from deep inside my chest. I flattened my back, lifting up my ass, giving him all the access he’d need.
But then his palm came down hard on my rear, sending a sting through me from the surprise.
“Ow,” I cried out.