Page 24 of Embracing the Beat
“More, huh?” he asks, the smile evident in his voice.
“Yes,” I plead, hips surging off the bed. I need his touch lower.
“Greedy girl.” His weight shifts, and suddenly the pressure on the tie is different. I tug—there’s more movement, but I’m held in place by something more solid than before.
“What did you do?”
“I need both of my hands for what I have planned next. Your headboard works pretty well to keep you where I want you.”
His growl controls my hips, lifting them to beg for his touch. I need more or I’m going to explode.
His fingers tug at the elastic edge of my panties, and I shift to help him. Once the fabric clears my ankles, he pushes both my knees up and back, exposing me to him.
“Hello there,” he murmurs, and I want to combust at the tone of his voice. He drags a finger through my folds, and I hold my breath, forcing back a scream of desperate pleasure. “You’re so wet. For me? Or do you like being tied up?”
He tweaks a nipple, and I moan as pleasure lights up my core.
“Answer me,” he demands.
“B-both,” I murmur, biting my lip as he pinches the other nipple.
“Don’t hide your pleasure from me, Michaela.” One finger brushes against where my teeth sink into my lip, and I release the injured flesh. “Let me hear you.”
He moves, the crisp fabric of his slacks rubbing against my leg. Is he still fully dressed? I suddenly get the mental picture of me tied up and begging on my bed while he looms over me, still clothed.
Oh god.
“If I get undressed, this will be over before it begins,” he tells me.
Holy shit, did I have that whole conversation out loud?
“You tensed when you felt my pants. I’m clearing up any misconceptions. Right now is all about you. Just feel.”
And I do.
His lips brush my inner thigh, the muscle jumping at the movement.
“Oh god.”
“Only me,” he chuckles. “Just a taste.”
His tongue drags through my folds, back to front, and I yank at my hands, desperate to touch him. But the fabric holds. My moan doesn’t quite sound human, but it must be enough to encourage him to keep going. His tongue circles my clit, pulsing against the bundle of nerves in a rhythm my body recognizes.
“West, West, please. Oh my god. Please.” I twist my hands against the tie, no way to move my arms other than the small window he’s given me. My heels are thrown over his shoulders, my toes curling in the fabric of his shirt, but without any other purchase, I’m at his mercy.
The orgasm shimmers at the edges in all its terrifying, awesome glory. I want to run away from it as much as I want to run toward it.
One of his hands traces up along my skin, caressing my breast, his fingers pinching at the peak, while his lips close around my clit, sucking and nibbling slightly until I’m writhing against him. My breath comes in gasps I can’t control. Nothing is under my control. It’s all him. I want to beg, but the only sounds leaving my lips are unintelligible words interspersed with his name.
“Come for me, Michaela.” That’s the last push I need, permission to shatter apart in fireworks of pleasure that explode behind my eyes.
No, not fireworks. Stars. I’m flying, lost in the sensation his mouth and fingers pull from me. The orgasm keeps going on and on until the pleasure morphs again, my fingernails digging into my palms as I finally come down from the high. The light of my lamp is bright as West tugs the blindfold free, his eyes the only thing I can focus on. They glitter as if lit by firelight as he stares at me in wonder.
“Now it begins,” he says before his lips claim mine in a kiss that fuses itself to my soul.
