He flinched. His throat worked over a swallow as he trailed his fingers down her face as if memorizing it. “You have every part of me there is to give. I’m sorry I can’t give you more. You deserve more.”
She inhaled, sealing the pain deep inside where he couldn’t see it. “Yes, I do. And so do you. Will you at least give me a chance tonight to change your mind?”
He nodded. “I’d give you a dozen chances.” He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the silver box. “This was your mother’s. Your father wanted me to give it to you.”
Her heart ached, and a tear escaped her eye.
“Thank you for keeping it safe.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth and tore herself away before she changed her mind and promised to stay forever.
After she dressed, she left Cole’s and returned to her room to pack the few things she had brought as well as her mother’s box. Before she got ready for the club, she called Tasha, who had been discharged from the hospital and was spending the night at a hotel.
She and Cole had one final night together. One night left to convince the other they were making the wrong choice. Tonight she had a few lessons to teach her voyeuristic lover. She may walk out of his life tomorrow, but she’d hopefully leave him with the idea that there was more to voyeurism than the visual.
Gracie helped Danielle set up everything she needed, then sent word to Cole to meet Danielle in the kitchen.
Wearing a silver beaded corset and matching panties with enough bling to see from outer space, she greeted him as he stepped into the kitchen. “Welcome to the grand opening of Café DeMarco. I’m Danielle, and I’ll be your slave for the evening. Please have a seat.” His gaze ate her up as he climbed into one of the tall chairs situated at the island. “I’ve prepared a special feast for you.”
“I hope you’re part of that feast.”
She leaned on him, pressing her breasts into his arm, and whispered in his ear. “If you play your cards right, you can eat me all night long.” At his shudder, she pulled away. His breathing quickened, and he made a low rumble deep in his throat.
She nabbed the black scarf she’d left dangling off the other chair and twisted it around both her wrists, stretching the fabric taut. “Tonight, Master, I’d like you to use your other senses. Do you consent?”
Nervously biting her lip, she held her breath. The skin around his eyes and lips crinkled as he weighed the decision of turning over that little bit of power and control to her.
“Yes,” he said, his voice raspy. “I consent.”
She draped the scarf over his eyes and tied a knot in the back. Her nipples hardened into tight peaks at the sight of him blindfolded, his rosy lips slightly parted and the flutter of his pulse evident in his neck.
Glancing at his lap, she was encouraged by the impressive bulge tenting his pants. The loss of his vision hadn’t tampered his arousal. If anything, it had enhanced it.
That was a good sign. Wasn’t it?
She snagged the bottle off the marble island, popped the cork, and poured a single glass of wine. “You must be thirsty. I took a tour of your wine cellar. Would you care for a sip?”
His mouth quirked up at the corners. “Yes, I believe I would.”
She dipped her index finger into the Bordeaux and painted his lips with it. “Do you recognize the vintage?”
His tongue snaked out and licked a complete circle around his mouth, leaving his rosy lips glistening. “I’ll need a little more to ascertain that.”
She tipped the wine glass between her lips, allowing it to pool in her mouth before slanting her lips over his to share it. He growled, tangling his fingers in her hair and pushing her head closer, tightening the seal of their mouths. Their tongues glided and danced as he sampled the wine, his dizzying kiss more potent than any alcohol she’d consumed. Panting, they broke apart.
“What did you taste?” she whispered, resting her forehead on his.
He licked his lips. “Black cherry. Vanilla. Plum.” He paused and smiled. “You.”
Unable to stop herself, she trailed soft kisses down the side of his face before lifting the glass under their noses and swirling the wine around, releasing its essence. “What do you smell?”
“Truffle. A hint of tobacco.” He buried his nose in her neck. “You.”
She raised the glass to his lips. “Drink.” His hand covered hers and together they tilted the glass to his lips. “What does it feel like in your mouth?”
“Soft.” His fingers caressed her knee, then brushed the inside of her thigh. “Rich.” She trembled as his fingers continued to explore, pushing away the fabric of her panties and sinking into her core with ease and precision. “Silky like the inside of your pussy.”