Lying and Kissing(89)

“Is not game,”

“That’s worse! Or better, I don’t know. Like, is it BDSM and should we have a safeword and is it wrong that I like it? I mean, I’m not sure why I like it and MMFF!”

The last was because he’d put his hand over my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, Arianna,” he told me.

I went stiff and quiet.

“You Americans analyze every fucking thing,” he said mildly. “You like it—yes?”

I nodded.

“You know I would never, ever hurt you?”

I did, but hearing it lit a warm glow of reassurance inside me. I nodded again.

“Then that is all that matters. Now shut up and kiss me while I fuck you like dirty slut.”

My mind exploded as his lips replaced his hand and his tongue slid into my mouth. I wasn’t Arianna Scott or Arianna Ross anymore; I was just his. I wasn’t going to be judged for wanting him to be rough, for wanting to play at resisting him. I could just enjoy it.

I pressed up against his hand with my wrists but it felt like his hand had turned to rock. I was held there, helpless, until he damn well chose to let me free, and the thought made my groin roll and grind against him.

His free hand tangled in my hair as he kissed me, then stroked down my cheek. He lifted his lips from mine and stared at me with those icy-blue eyes. “Beautiful,” he said in English, and my heart soared. He kissed me softly on my neck. “Sooka,” he whispered and the heat tightened and twisted inside me. He kissed me again, this time on my collarbone. “Innocent,” he said. Another kiss, on the top of my breast. “Shalava,” he whispered.

He kept going, alternating between telling me how beautiful I was and what a dirty, filthy slut I was, with kisses for punctuation. By the time his mouth reached my groin, I was a hot, panting mess.

He put his mouth very close to me, until every hard-accented syllable was like a caress on my ready, throbbing sex. “You will tell me,” he said.

“What?” I was so turned on, I slurred it.

“You will tell me exactly what you want,” he said, his voice like cold steel.

My eyes widened. Every time we’d had sex, I’d basically let him do all the talking. His voice I got off on, but I couldn’t say that sort of stuff. “I can’t,” I said hopelessly.

He lifted his eyes to meet mine. “You will. Or I will stop.”

He licked me and my back arched like a bow, hot pleasure rippling up through my body to explode in my mind. What?! He wanted me to—My cheeks reddened. I couldn’t—

He stopped.

I instinctively humped my groin towards him, but I couldn’t quite reach that hot, expert tongue. “I can’t!” I insisted.

“Say it in Russian,” he told me.

Russian. Maybe that would make it easier.

And so I told him in awkward, halting phrases, how I wanted him to lick me. And as he did, the words came a little easier, the heat inside me melting away the barriers. My Russian came in little flurries of words and then in desperate, rushed sentences and then in a gasping litany that rose to the ceiling as I begged him not to stop, begged him to go deeper and faster and OH GOD harder. I wouldn’t have had a hope of knowing some of the words... if I hadn’t listened to his phone sex over and over again.#p#分页标题#e#

Wrestling against his hands was my safety valve, enabling the pleasure to go on and on without me exploding too soon. His shoulders held my thighs wide apart as his lips sucked on my aching clit and his tongue plunged deep. I could feel it building, building, the blood rushing in my ears, my breath coming in desperate pants. I was rolling my hips, bringing my body up to meet him. Just as I thought it couldn’t get any better, he slid two fingers into me. I felt myself shudder and go over the edge and then I was bucking and twisting, straining with my wrists against his hand. The pleasure rolled up my body in waves, stretching every muscle taut and then letting it dissolve into warm goo. I flopped onto the bed, spent.

When I looked up, he was unbuttoning his shirt. I started to sit up.

“Stay!” he commanded. A hot rush went through me. I stayed where I was.

He pulled off his pants and shorts and stood naked in front of me. My eyes locked on his cock, long and thick.

“Turn over,” he said. His voice was thick with lust and the thought that it was me doing that to him, that I was making this ice-cold man lose control, was electrifying.

I slowly turned over onto my hands and knees. But when he climbed onto the bed behind me, he gently took my wrists and drew them behind me. Wait, what was he—

I felt the touch of cold metal. Handcuffs.

He locked them on and something about the feel of it made my insides flip over and then melt, that familiar combination of fear and lust. My groin tightened and throbbed in a way it never had before. The fact we were together, now, with no secrets, took it to a new level—I felt connected to him as never before. I felt myself begin to pant. My shoulders sank to the bed and the position made it even better, my breasts helplessly pressed against the covers, my face turned to the side. I was helpless. He can do anything he wants to me.