He was making the fire burn so hot she thought she might just have a mini-orgasm from the way his eyes had gone liquid silver. Her hands dropped to the zipper in her jeans and she managed to shimmy them off her hips and down her legs. She stepped out of her sandals and tossed the jeans to the chair. Not once did she take her eyes from him. He hadn’t taken his eyes from her. He had barely blinked.
Her heart went a little crazy, pounding like mad in anticipation. Her breath had already gone ragged and he hadn’t touched her yet. She was damp between her legs. Her breasts ached. She wanted him with every breath she drew into her lungs. He hadn’t even touched her yet. Her mind was filled with him. Only him. There was no room for anything or anyone else.
He moved then. Straightening off the wall. That was all, but her sex clenched and she felt more liquid fire rushing through her in welcome. He held out his hand to her and she immediately crossed the distance to take his. Wordlessly he tugged her to the thick rug in front of the window overlooking the sea.
“On all fours, facing the window,” he ordered. His voice was soft. Mesmerizing.
She didn’t hesitate. Giving him what he wanted. Going down to her hands and knees. He didn’t make a sound. She knelt there, heart pounding. Waiting. When nothing happened, she started to turn her head to see what he was doing.
“Don’t.”
It was a clear order. She sucked in her breath and kept her eyes on the glass. On the sea. Waiting. Wondering. The pressure inside her coiling tighter and tighter. The burn growing hotter. Her entire focus was on him. Only him. Every sense she possessed straining for movement. For sound. For anything.
Her nerves were at a screaming point, every one on fire, so sensitive that just the air had her close to a climax. She wasn’t certain she could keep staring out the window when she wanted to know where he was. What he was doing.
“Put your head on the rug, Giacinta.”
His voice came from her left. Her body jerked at the soft command, but she obeyed instantly, grateful for the opportunity to move. To do something when her body threatened to go up in flames. She pressed her forehead to the soft thick wool.
“Turn your head to your left, cheek to the floor.”
She did and she saw him. Sitting in a chair, his silver eyes on her. His legs sprawled out in front of him. His cock was hard and thick, enclosed in his fist. His hand moved lazily, pumping while he watched her. While his gaze burned his brand into her.
“Push that sweet ass of yours higher,” he instructed.
The sight of his fist sliding up and down the length of his hard shaft was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. She was certain the sight would be burned in her mind for all time. More liquid spilled.
“Widen your knees for me, malyshka. When I finally get over the sight of you kneeling there, waiting for me, I want to see how wet you are for me. How excited. How much honey you’re going to give me before I fuck you so hard you won’t be able to get up off the floor.”
A low moan slipped out. She couldn’t help it. She obeyed him again, widening her knees, but keeping her bottom up in the air. His thumb moved over the flared head of his cock, smearing drops of liquid all over it. She licked her lips, but she didn’t say anything. Didn’t beg for him in her mouth. His face was etched with lines of pure lust. His hooded eyes had grown more liquid, purely sensual. His fist mesmerized her with that slow, languid slide.
He kept her there for what seemed forever. All the while, her body grew tighter. Felt emptier. Needed more. Waited. She was aware of everything about him. The muscles in his chest and arms. In his thighs. His breath moving in and out of his body. The stillness in the room. The tick of a clock somewhere. Eventually even all that was gone and there were only his eyes and his cock and fist. She couldn’t get anything else in her mind. There was no room because he’d driven out everything else and filled her mind with him.
When she was certain she was going to have to plead with him, when she was close to sobbing his name, he stood up with that same casual laziness and walked around her, out of her sight. She desperately wanted to turn her head to see what he was doing, but she didn’t dare. She knew, absolutely knew, that he would start all over again.
His fingers brushed the inside of her thigh and her entire sex clenched greedily. Her thighs jumped, fingers of desire dancing up them. She was drenched with liquid heat, with lust. Panting. Desperate for him. His fingers moved away and she wanted to sob. She knew he could keep up this torment for hours. She also knew what he was doing – keeping her mind fully occupied with him so nothing else could get in.