thrust forward to give him total access, total control. She couldn’t even move backward away from him, which meant he could do whatever he wanted to her breasts, and she had absolutely no say in the matter.
She took a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand. His hands moved with her as he kneaded her flesh. He had gentled his touch now, so there wasn’t even the threat of pain until he abruptly bit her nipple. She gasped in surprise, but her legs trembled in delight.
“Is this part of your fantasy?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered without thought, because he was right. This was exactly what she wanted. “Both breasts,” she said. “Whatever and however until I come.” It had been a part of her fantasy landscape since she first began dreaming of men.
He narrowed his hands until he had hold of just her nipples, tugging them both. Then he put his mouth to one breast and sucked her in, rolling her nipple around and around with his tongue. She squirmed but couldn’t go far with her hands gripping the posts.
He released one nipple to work on the other. The abandoned one felt cold and wet, but soon she felt his fingers on it, rubbing the liquid in and twisting the nub. Meanwhile, his mouth went to work on the right breast, nibbling the skin around and underneath her nipple. Her breast felt full and achy, but his every abrasion heated a fire in her belly. Her knees went weak, and her legs separated of their own accord.
Part of her wanted to stop this madness. Part of her thought her behavior was very odd, but she squelched it. Those thoughts belonged to the part of her that stumbled under the weight of her world. She would not go there. She would not think those things. She would not even acknowledge the oppressive burden that waited just at the edge of her consciousness.
Sweaty pleasure was all she wanted. He was sucking her breast rhythmically now, tonguing her nipple as he worked. Heat built from inside her belly. It rushed like a wave outward, like flash fire on her skin. Her hands tightened on the railing as she gasped in reaction. Not an orgasm, but thrilling nonetheless.
She moaned and thrust her belly against his groin. He was thick and hard, a hot brand even through his clothes. Why was he wearing clothes? She wanted to lift her skirt and wrap her legs around him—naked him—but she couldn’t manage it without letting go of the posts. So she just stood there and whimpered.
He must have heard the sound because he pulled back. His hair was mussed, his mouth wet, but it was his eyes that she saw the most. Dark brown like molten gold mixed with chocolate. In this place, the analogy made sense and she willingly submerged herself in his power.
“Do you want more?” he rasped. “Yes,” she answered.
He grinned, but didn’t speak. Without moving his eyes, he reached down and pulled her narrow skirt up to her waist.
Finally! She spread her legs to ease the heat. It didn’t help, especially as his hands roved over her thighs.
“Thigh-high panty hose,” he murmured. Then his hands stroked higher. “And a thong!” He smiled at her even as he hooked his thumbs under the strings and pushed them down. Then his grin widened as he bent his knees, kissing his way down her chest and belly.
He had to stop where her skirt was bunched at her stomach. His mouth left her skin with a swirling tongue motion that could only be described as a flourish. Then he glanced up at her.
“I’m going take this off,” he said as he tugged at her thong. “But the thigh-highs stay on.” Then he glanced down. “And those heels. Love the heels. They’re so very corporate.”
He peeled the thong down and she felt the slow pull as the wet fabric separated from her skin. He used his fingers to maneuver the strings, but his thumbs slid in and around her mound. Then he groaned in delight.
“God, Nicky, you are a fantasy come true!”
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. He was looking at her again, and she was lost in the swirling colors of his eyes. Or at least her mind was; the rest of her was absorbed in the sensation of her thong dropping down past her knees to be caught around her ankles.
She wanted to reach down and unhook it from the straps of her black pumps, but her hands would not release. He had told her not to let go, so she didn’t. She couldn’t, not without switching her brain on, and that was something she never intended to do again. Then he relieved her discomfort by lifting her left knee. The fabric stretched. His fingers caressed her calf and popped the cotton off. He returned her leg to the ground and shifted to her right knee. He lifted it up and she felt the thong hang in the air. She tried maneuvering her foot to shake it loose, but it was caught. How impossible that she couldn’t even release the stupid thong. But then her thoughts were distracted as he kept raising her knee up. Higher and higher as he fell to the ground before her.
She stared mutely at him as he guided her knee to his shoulder, his hand still stroking the silk of her thigh-highs with a kind of reverence.
“God, I love this,” he murmured against the fine hose. Then he leaned down, nipping through the silk as he roved higher on her thigh. Soon he was at the edge, murmuring something she couldn’t hear against her skin.
The moment his lips touched her unprotected flesh, another flash fire of heat erupted. A split-second burst of sensation that made her hiss. He started to pull back but she didn’t want that, so she tightened her leg and kept him right where he was. She even lifted her other leg and dropped it on his shoulder.
He helped her, his hands bracing on the wall behind her so that she rested on his forearms. She hung there, her core open to the cold air, her moisture making her feel wet and exposed. If she’d had the use of her hands, she would have stopped him. It was too much for her, too vulnerable.
But he had said she couldn’t let go and so she tightened her thighs. The idea was to ease some of the weight off her arms, but it ended up bringing his mouth right to her center. This wasn’t part of her fantasy, but it was fabulous nonetheless. Besides, she wasn’t in control here. He was, and she trusted him absolutely. In this place, he was the god who made everything safe and wonderful.
Then he began to lick. Long, thick strokes. Narrow pointy thrusts. Swirling combinations of both. Another flash fire hit with his first stroke. Then came another as he flattened his tongue and pushed against her clit. Another swirl and a shudder hit her spine. Her chest lifted as a wave of volcanic heat rolled over her belly, creating a pocket of fire under her skin.
She was gasping, her back undulating against the wall. Her arms were beginning to ache, her fingers slick on the posts, but she didn’t let go. The pain in her palms was nothing compared to the wonderful wet slide of his tongue.
She wanted to move her hips, to push her groin deeper and harder against his mouth. But her hands had no strength left in them. All of her weight rested on his arms and mouth. She couldn’t do anything. Her only participation was to experience, and that was more than enough.
He fluttered his tongue against her clit. A rapid flip-flip-flip that pushed her violently over the edge into orgasm. The volcanic fire from before was nothing compared to this. A supernova exploded across her skin. She screamed. She bucked. She lost herself to absolute pleasure.
Ahhhh!
She tried to stay there. She tried to hold on, but eventually the nova burst faded, leaving behind a warm glow. Her hands gave out and she sank bonelessly to the floor. He went with her, still holding her as she lay there dazed and happy. She felt him shift her around so that her head pillowed against
