A Sip of You(24)

Something light and soft touched my shoulder, and I jumped.

“Relax. I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you. This will always be about pleasure, never about pain.”

I felt the sensation again, and this time it tickled up my arm to my wrist and over to the other side. It disappeared and then I felt that light flutter on the slope of my breast and over my nipple. I moaned again, my buds hardening.

“I can see you like that.”

The fluttering dipped lower, tickling my belly, and if I hadn’t been so aroused, I would have giggled. “What is it?” I asked.

“What do you think?”

I concentrated on the airy sensation as it glided over my thong and skated across my thighs. I couldn’t help but part them. “A feather,” I said suddenly. “A long feather.” I could picture it in my mind, see its weightless fronds teasing my skin.

“That’s right. Let’s try another.”

My body was already aching for him, and I still felt pouty and petulant from being shut out after dinner. I wasn’t sure how much I liked surrendering control right now. “Can’t you just fuck me?” I asked.

“I like it when you talk like that,” William growled hoarsely. I knew I was getting to him. “Say it again.” His hands slid down my belly, and his fingers slid under my thong.

“I want you to fuck me.”

I lifted my buttocks as he slid my thong down and I felt every single sensation involved in removing it. Then I felt him between my legs, his knee nudging me to open even wider. “I’m looking at you, Catherine, all pink and swollen and glistening wet. You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I was writhing now, knowing his gaze was devouring me. I felt his knee press against my sex, and then the feather fluttered over my clit. I groaned, my muscles clenching, begging for release.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me.”

His finger slid inside me, penetrating me and then sliding up to circle my clit. My breathing came shallowly and my hips rose off the bed. I was close, so close.

And then his touch was gone. “No,” he said, moving away. “Not until I say.”

I cried out in protest. My body wanted to jump over the cliff. I jerked my hands, my instincts telling me to touch myself, but I was cuffed to the bed. “William!”

“I’m right here.” Then I felt fur, much like that on the cuffs, slide over my belly. It was warm and velvet soft. “What is this?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to play his games, especially when they mirrored our relationship. He gave me a taste of who he was and then pulled it away. Was this some sort of punishment or was he on a power trip? Either way, I didn’t like it.

I was about to say rosé and stop his exquisite torture when the fur slid up my body, circling my breast and brushing over my nipples, causing me to shiver from head to toe. Instead of speaking, I groaned, low and guttural. I just wanted to come. I needed to come.

“Tell me what you feel,” he ordered.

I tried to concentrate. “It’s fur…a fur glove, I think.”

“Good.” The fur slid down my body, slowly, so my every nerve could revel in the sensation. “How does it feel?”

The fur slid lower, over my belly, and my sex pulsed with need. I struggled to form a coherent thought. “Soft.”

The fur brushed over my thighs, teasing their inner sides. “What else?”

“Silky, like velvet.”

The glove moved slowly over my center, and I clenched in anticipation. But William moved it away, brushing it over my belly. I dug my fingernails into the wood headboard, resisting the urge to scream at him to make me come already. The fur was like the feather—soft and ticklish. My sensitive flesh couldn’t take much more. As though reading my mind, the fur was gone, replaced by something rough and scratchy.

I flinched at the sudden contrast until I realized it was William’s cheek. He rubbed his stubble across my belly, the warmth of his skin making mine heat in reaction. He kissed my belly, his cheek moving down toward my hip. His stubble punished my sensitive skin, rubbing it raw until his soft lips soothed the hurt.

When I felt the prickle on my thigh near my apex, my breath caught in my throat. Without William even asking, I spread my legs even wider. His rough stubble scratched against my tender flesh, moving higher and higher until I felt it on my sex. His tongue parted me, and his prickly stubble brushed against my clit. I cried out, wanting his mouth on me more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. I knew his harsh beard could be replaced by a soothing lick. I felt the tip of his tongue tease me, and I pushed against him, wanting him to suck and lave until I begged for mercy.