He slides his finger over my lower lip. “I see it in your eyes. You’re a beautiful woman, Skye, but you’re the most beautiful when you let go and surrender to your body.”
His words ignite the embers burning deep within me. I zero in on his still-clothed crotch. His bulge is more apparent than ever. This must be affecting him, too.
“You want me,” I say.
“Of course I do. I’m not made of clay. I’m a man, baby, and any man who lays eyes on you wants you.”
I warm, and damn, my pussy is still so ready for his touch, his tongue, his cock.
How is he able to keep those desires at bay and tease me? Is it because he’s older? He’s thirty-five to my twenty-four, clearly much more experienced than I am. Or is it something else?
His expression remains stoic. He smiles so rarely, laughs even less. Does anyone truly know Braden Black?
I clear my throat. “Is my punishment over?”
“That’s up to you.”
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning…are you ready to give up control?”
Am I? I thought I was, but then I couldn’t obey him when he told me not to talk.
“Before you answer,” he says, “know this. I want to fuck you. I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time. I think I’ve made that abundantly clear.”
I nod. I’m dying to ask why he’s punishing me, then, because in punishing me, he’s also punishing himself.
“I will fuck you tonight,” he says. “The only question is whether you get a climax.”
“But if you fuck me—”
He quiets me with a touch of his fingers to my lips. “Trust me. I can still fuck you and keep you from coming.”
He doesn’t know how right he is.
I finally get to come, only it’s with a man who wants to rule my climaxes. So not fair.
“Do you want to come tonight, baby?”
I nod.
“Tell me. Tell me you want to come.”
“I want to come tonight, Braden.”
His eyes grow slightly cold. “Then don’t disobey me again.”
Why is this so important to him? He hasn’t asked for control over any other aspect of my life. In fact, he made it clear earlier this evening that he didn’t track me down because I couldn’t take care of myself. No. He tracked me down to keep me out of someone else’s bed.
He’s domineering but not a dominant. He’s controlling but not a master. Just who is Braden Black?
Why is he like this?
I may never know, and if I’m going to continue to sleep with him, I need to be comfortable with that.
And I need to give up control. Not just in words but in action.
Am I ready?
Am I truly ready?
I clear my throat. “Tell me what you want, Braden.”
“I want to fuck you into next week.”
I smile. “You’re in luck. I’ve got all next week open.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Braden grabs the black blindfold and ties it over my eyes again. “No talking, Skye. Understand?”
“I have a question first.”
“For God’s sake. What kind of question could you possibly have? No talking means no talking.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s a valid one, Braden. Can I sigh and moan? Groan?”
“Sexual sounds are permissible.”
“Okay. But you got me last time for saying ‘oh.’ Isn’t that a sexual sound?”
“No. ‘Oh’ is a word. ‘Oh God’ are words. ‘Yes, Braden, yes’ are words.”
I keep a smile from spreading across my face. “But those words are indicating that I’m enjoying myself.”
“So what?”
“So…don’t you want to know I’m enjoying myself?”
“I know you’re enjoying yourself by how your body responds to me. The words are superfluous.”
I scoff. “Seriously?”
He chuckles. I can’t see his face, but I imagine his smirk.
“You become more of a challenge every second, Skye Manning. You’re my Everest, and I’m determined to conquer you. Now, be quiet.”
I press my lips together and make a locking motion with my hand. I’m feeling sarcastic, but my action probably doesn’t convey that to Braden. Just as well. I’m not up for more punishment. I want a climax.
He gently pushes me until the backs of my legs hit the bed. “Lie down.”
I obey. My body is still tense and ready, needy and wanting. Braden is moving around. His clothes rustle. What is he doing?
I have no idea, and suddenly I’m thrilled. I don’t know what’s in store for me. It could be anything.
Anything.
The wait is excruciating. Every second, my body becomes tenser with yearning, and my mind comes up with something else he could do to tantalize me.
Seconds pass.
They turn into minutes.
I squirm, but I don’t speak. I’m determined to get that orgasm.
I gasp when something flutters over one nipple. It’s not his finger or his lips. Something cool circles my areola. Is it…ice? No. Not cold enough, plus no melting trickles of water. He traces the swell of my breast with the object and moves to the other nipple, tantalizing it as he did the last.