I embrace the music of his body as he licks me, let it flow around me like a melody written solely for us.
It’s intoxicating.
Yes, I’m turned on. Yes, I’m floating toward the peak.
The climax is no longer my goal, though. Listening is. Hearing is. For I gain something nearly as beautiful as a climax itself.
The music. The beauty in sound.
When he moves his mouth away from me, I whimper at the loss. A soft whimper that comes from my body involuntarily. I listen. I appreciate the sounds I make.
A soft thud as one of Braden’s garments hits the back of a chair. A louder thump. A shoe. Then another.
Soft sounds of his clothes meeting the floor in a puddle of fabric.
My heart hammers. Each of these sounds means he’s closer to being naked. Closer to his cock inside me.
I’m so ready for that.
The soft creak of the bed as he returns, and when his cock slides between my legs, a swift intake of breath.
His breath.
And also my own.
“I want to fuck you now. I can’t wait to get inside you.”
I gasp when he thrusts.
He groans. Much louder and longer this time.
He fills me, and the feeling—
But I’m not supposed to feel. Only to hear.
The suction of his cock sinking into me is subtle, but it’s there. I listen, and I hear it.
His balls slap against me as he thrusts. I hear them.
The sounds of him fucking me. Of him making love to me. They’re there, and I hear them.
The rhythm of his thrusts. The chorus of his moans and mine, his breaths and mine.
And the melody. The melody that is audible only to me. To Braden and me. A lovely tune that exists between us and around us and inside us.
And I understand. I understand.
“Fuck,” he says. “I’m going to come, Skye.”
He thrusts into me and stays there, moaning. I revel in the sound, in the music of his release.
And I don’t miss my own release. I’m too busy listening to his.
The pure musical beauty of it.
A few moments later, he pulls out and rolls off me, sighing. A soft yet masculine sigh. A sigh I’ve never bothered to listen to before now.
A moment later, he removes my blindfold.
“Well?” he asks.
I stay silent.
“You may speak now.”
I smile. “It was amazing. I heard things I’ve never heard before.”
“Good. That’s the plan. You did well.”
“But, Braden…”
“Yes?”
“Why?”
“You mean why all this? The concentration on only one sense?”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t answer me for a minute. Instead, he moves downward and positions his head between my legs. My clit rushes to attention. I haven’t climaxed, and I want to. I want to very badly.
He flicks his tongue over my clit.
I jolt, arching my back. God, I want that orgasm more than I want anything at the moment.
Is he going to answer my question?
“I will give you an answer,” he says, “but first, I’m going to give you a climax.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thank God. My whole body is aching for a climax. It’s been so long.
Braden eyes me lasciviously. I warm all over, my nipples snapping back to attention and my pussy throbbing mercilessly.
Until his phone buzzes on the night table. He widens his eyes.
Ignore it. Please ignore it.
But he doesn’t. Braden doesn’t ignore his phone. It’s nearly midnight on a Saturday night. Who’s calling him? It can’t be business, can it? At this hour on the weekend?
Except that Braden has deals and contracts all over the globe. Though his company started with construction equipment, which is still its backbone, Black, Inc. now invests in real estate, foreign currency, futures, and probably lots of stuff I don’t know about.
Which is why he’ll never ignore his phone, no matter the hour.
He moves from between my legs, and I hold back a whimper at the loss.
“Black,” he says into his phone.
Then he’s all business. Even his erection falters as he stands there naked. My eyes have adjusted to the dark after he removed the blindfold, and I watch him.
His demeanor is pure professionalism, and if I couldn’t see his majestic body, I’d swear he was standing in a three-piece suit, tie adjusted just so.
He may as well be.
And I know I can kiss my orgasm goodbye.
After what seems like hours, he ends the call.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“I have to go to New York,” he says.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I reply.
He walks toward his closet. “No. We’re leaving tonight.”
I gasp. “Tonight? You mean right now?”
“Yes. Right now.”
“I… I can’t. What about…”
He turns and meets my gaze. “What about what, Skye? We were going to leave tomorrow afternoon anyway. Do you have some kind of plan for your Sunday morning that I don’t know about?”
“The dogs. What about the dogs?”
“Who do you think takes care of the dogs all day when I’m not here?”
Laughable statement. What am I thinking?
I’m thinking I want that damned orgasm.