Footsteps(96)

She dropped her head to his and kissed him, her tongue searching his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lips. Still frothing a little from the emotional tilt-a-whirl he’d been on since the afternoon, he began to feel frantic with need. When he tried to draw his arms up so he could hold her, she fought him, holding his hands down. When he began to overpower her, she released his hands and sat up. He groaned; he needed her close.





But she only smiled down at him.





Then she moved, lifting up from his hips and resettling herself on her knees, between his thighs. He knew what she was up to, then. Something she had not yet done. Not for him. He knew why, too; they’d talked about it. How Auberon had trained her for this. That asshole had been one seriously sick fuck.





“Bina, no—you don’t have to.”





“We’re simple tonight, yes? We left everything outside the door?”





He smiled. “Yes.”





“Then this is something that is just you and me. How I know it—that’s out there.” With that, she put her hands on his belly—which he had not been expecting, and it made him jump a little—and rubbed heavy circles from his hips to his ribs, pressing in, but not too hard. It felt wonderful, intensely relaxing, and he moaned a little as his legs relaxed outward. Her position between his legs, leaning forward to rub his belly, made her breasts brush his cock again and again—just light swipes of skin that drove him quietly mad.





By the time she stopped and moved her hands over his hips, the pressure she’d exerted on his belly had somehow itself become sexual, and he’d taken to making strained grunts with every exhale.





Then she circled his cock with one hand and bent down to suck on just the tip. Sensation shot through his body, and he went tense. “Ah! Jesus, Bina!”





She backed off until he could relax again. Next time, though, she took him deeply into her mouth and bobbed on him, sucking heavily. When he reached down and tangled his fist in her hair to hold her as he came to the edge of orgasm, she stopped and backed off until he released her and relaxed.





“What are you doing to me?” he gasped. And she only smiled.





Over and over she brought him to the brink and backed him off, all the while smiling that tiny, smug smile every time their eyes met. Finally, when he had the headboard in both fists and his head bent so far back he was cutting off blood to his brain, she went at him with vigor and focus, and he knew she was going to let him off this fucking carousel of delayed ecstasy. He got to the point where she had denied him again and again and he felt a clench of fear as he waited for her to back off again. But she didn’t. Instead, her other hand, which had been heretofore propped on his thigh, moved to cup his balls. She was going to let him come—the simple thrill of knowing almost took him over.





And then her hand moved from his balls to the skin below it, one finger moving backward, and his body stepped back from the cliff. He sat up partway. “What are you doing? No, Bina.”





She slid her mouth up and away from his cock, but she didn’t move her hand. “Trust me. I’m not going to do what you think. Trust me.” As she spoke, the finger in question made a circle on the skin behind his balls—and fuck, oh fuck. What was that?





“What are you—what?”





“Is it good?” The finger circled and circled, pressing on his skin, a little harder with every circle.





He had to force his head to make words. “Its…it’s…yeah.”





“Lie back. It will be even better.”





He did as she said. She took him in her mouth again, sucking firmly, bringing him back to the edge, and her finger massaged that one deep spot, and when he came he had to clench his teeth together to hold back the need to shout to the heavens. He could feel every muscle straining with the stress of his release. She stayed on him, swallowing, until he became one giant, exposed nerve, and he reached down and pulled her off his spasming body.





She wiped her mouth with two dainty fingers and then came up to lie alongside him. “That was good?”





It took him a few seconds to reclaim his breath enough to answer. “I don’t know if I’ll ever want the story of how you learned that, but sweet holy Jesus, baby. I’ve never felt anything like it.”





He felt spent and exhausted, and he didn’t think he had more to give her tonight. She had taken everything. She seemed to know it, and she lifted his limp arm and tucked herself in, her head on his chest.





Lying there, sated to an extreme, his beautiful woman in his arms, his happy child sleeping down the hall, in this house that had always been his home, Carlo felt well and happy again. They had indeed left it all outside the door. There was a lot to be said for simple. Or stupid, even.