He pulls me against his side locking me to him with one arm and pulling up my dress with the other. Again that teasing touch finds me, and I stifle a moan. “You’re going to kill me,” I whisper.
“On the contrary,” he says against my ear. “Did you know that the French used to call the orgasm le petit mort, or the little death? No, Scarlett. I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to make you have many, many little deaths.” His fingers press through my panties against my clit, and I squirm in my seat, wanting to get closer to him but also not wanting the cab driver to have any clue as to what we’re doing. The way he’s touching me, it’s gentle, calm, and insistent. It tells me he’s not afraid to take his time, that he knows exactly what he wants and he’s going to get it. It’s exactly the way he is at Ellison, only this is ten times hotter.
The pressure he’s using on my clit is soft and pulsing, and it’s making me wet. I can feel the way the fabric of my panties is dampening, and I know that he can too. His lips press my ear again. “I’m not sure if I expressed this earlier, but you are so utterly hot,” he says. “From the second you walked in that door yesterday my cock was hard, wanting you. And now I can’t wait to have all of you.”
He presses against me more insistently, and my back arches. “How long until we’re there?” I ask.
The rest of the cab ride is lost in a haze of touching. Chris’s hand feels like it’s everywhere. His fingers sweep down the insides of my thighs, only to rush back and tease me beneath my panties. Suddenly they’re at my breasts, feeling the way my nipples stand at attention under the fabric of my clothes, and then back to my clit to draw tiny circles that have my hips trusting against his hold on me. I’m going to combust. The cab driver pulls over in front of the hotel, and I gasp in relief. Chris pulls my dress down and pays the driver, and we rush inside. He takes me by the hand, pulling me along.
There is no frenzied make-out session in the elevator, no falling against the walls of the hallway as we make our way to the room. There is only the firm steadiness of his hand, the iron in his grip leaving no room to doubt that he’s going to make good on all of the promises he made. The door seems to loom in front of me as he opens it. I want this so badly, I’m almost afraid for it to start.
The door closes and we’re left in the half-light of the room. We left a couple of lamps on, and the lights of the city are streaming in through the window. The dimness feels sensual and dangerous, like anything could happen. Chris takes his coat off and drops it to the floor, pushes mine off my shoulders and watches it fall. “I’ve been watching you in that dress all night and it’s been driving me crazy,” he says. “Now I want to see you out of it.”
I walk past him towards the center of the room, stepping out of my heels as I go. I can feel his eyes on me as I turn, shimmying the straps off my shoulders and pushing the dress down my body. I watch his eyes follow it as it falls into a puddle on the floor. “Your turn,” I say.
His suit jacket comes off, and unlike earlier when I barely had a chance to look at him, this time, as he unbuttons his shirt, I get the chance to drink him in. The lean lines of his muscles are highlighted in the dim room, and the sparse trail of hair that trails from his chest to his stomach leads my eyes straight to where I want it to go—across his delicious abs and down to where his cock is once again begging for attention.
I take of my bra as he takes off his pants, and then he’s naked. I stop undressing to catch my breath and just look at him. He stalks towards me, powerful and smooth as a lion, and I’m begging to be his prey. He picks me up as if I weigh absolutely nothing, laying me back on the bed, his mouth following his fingers as he hooks them into the waistband of my tights and panties, shedding them from me. Now his lips are on my thighs, and I spread my legs for him, more than ready to have him there, for him to take me in whatever way he wants.
But he doesn’t put his mouth on me. Instead he teases me. He drags his lips along my skin, pressing kisses to my knees. Who knew knees could drive you crazy? He works his way up my hips where he decorates my skin with his lips and his tongue, kissing low across my stomach. It’s so close, so close to where I want him. I arch my back and raise my hips, offering myself to him, trying to get him closer. Instead he crawls up my body, pinning me to the bed and putting his face close to mine. “No, Scarlett. Not yet.”
“Please,” I say, writhing beneath him, feeling his cock press against my skin.
“If you’re going to help me blow of steam,” he says, his mouth quirking up into a smile, “then you’re going to do it on my terms. I’m going to take my time with you, and by the time I’m done you’ll be screaming so loud the hotel will hear you.”
My breath leaves my chest all at once, the bluntness of his words turning me on even more. I changed my mind. If he puts his mouth on me right now, I might come just from that. Chris puts his lips on my neck, and I press myself into him. I love the feeling of his skin on mine, our bodies tangled together. He travels, drawing a path of fire with his mouth, sucking against my skin, leaving bites in his wake. Down between my breasts where he stops and lifts his head to look at me, blue eyes almost glowing in the dim light. “I like these,” he says moments before he takes one of my nipples between his lips, rolling it, sucking, tugging and grazing it with his teeth. His fingers tease the other one, and I watch him squeeze and pull, the dichotomy in sensation sending shudders through me.
He lifts his mouth, sucking my breast and letting it fall. He gives me a wicked smile. “Your tits are perfection. Later, I’m going to fuck them.”
I don’t have a chance to respond, because his mouth closes over my other nipple and I’m lost again to the torrent of sensation. An image flashes in my head of him over me, his cock pushing through my breasts, and I feel myself get wetter in response. I stroke my hand through his hair, pushing his face harder against me, and I let myself feel it. Force myself to stop thinking about it. The scratch of his tongue and teeth has me grabbing onto his shoulders, fighting to get closer to him.
He finally releases me, and I sag onto the bed as he continues his journey down my body, circling my stomach, teasing me. Just when I think I’m finally, finally going to feel what that mouth can do to me, he stops. He crosses to his suitcase, rummaging inside. “What are you doing?” My voice is already hoarse. I’ll be lucky if I have any voice at all tomorrow.
He holds up a sleep mask, and I raise an eyebrow. He comes over to me, and I’m distracted by the sight of his hard cock, stretching towards me, practically begging to be touched. “Are you not comfortable with that?” he asks, seeing the way I look at the mask.
“No,” I say. “Honestly, I just didn’t think you were a sleep mask type of guy.”
His smirk returns, and he leans forward to slip the mask over my eyes. “Only on planes. And you’ll pay for that.”
“Gladly,” I say under my breath, adjusting to seeing nothing but darkness. My breathing gets a little faster, and I can feel a spike of adrenaline run through my body.
There’s a dip on the mattress, and then Chris is there again, right where he left off. He draws gasps from my lips. I never know where he’s going to touch me next. His hands push my legs apart, and I let him as his hands stroke the insides of my thighs. There’s a light brush of lips on my hip, and then another flutter near my knee. His mouth is everywhere, leaving light butterfly kisses on my legs and stomach, never touching me where I need him to be. He keeps his hands on my knees, making sure I’m just where he wants me. After what feels like an eternity of teasing, I find a pattern. Ever so slowly, his mouth is getting closer to my pussy, incrementally. I can feel how wet I am and he must be able to see it. I thrust my hips upwards in a futile attempt to show him what I want, and I hear him chuckle softly.
“I like you like this,” Chris says. “Spread open for me, let me give you the pleasure you deserve.”
His mouth lands on the outer edge of my pussy, and I gasp. He hasn’t gotten that close yet, and ev
en that simple touch feels like fire. His tongue flicks against my upper thigh, and I jump. He laughs, and I moan, because I can feel his breath on my clit. He’s right there, waiting.
The touch on my clit is light, barely a brush of his lips, but it feels like everything. It’s so swollen, so sensitive, that I feel everything. I feel his lips part ever so lightly so the tip of his tongue can taste me. When it touches my clit I get a burst of pleasure, and I want more. I want his whole mouth on me, and for him to swallow me whole. But Chris is still holding me in place, and I know that I’m totally at his mercy.
A stronger kiss now, this time at the top of my mound. “Dammit, Chris,” I say, and he bursts out laughing. “You really are killing me,” I say.