He groaned. Look and not touch? Or touch but not see? “You’re evil, mistress.”
“And you love it.”
He chuckled, feeling looser and more relaxed than he had in years. “I do. And if I only get one, I choose hands. I can’t make you feel good with my eyes.”
“The way you look at me makes me feel quite nice, actually.” Her fingers brushed along his wrist. “But good choice.”
She unhooked his hands from the cuffs and told him not to move. He lay still, his arms above his head. But then she circled his wrist and lifted his arm to her. She pressed his open palm against her soft flesh.
A shudder went through him at the feel of her full breast in his hand, and she let out a soft sigh. Her skin was silky soft and so warm. He wanted to bury his face against her, to touch and taste and feel her. He brushed a thumb over her nipple, which promptly rose to the occasion. He wet his lips. “What do you like, mistress? Soft? Rough?”
He realized now he had no idea what she liked in bed. She was a sadist, but did she like a dose of pain herself? Or maybe she liked the sweet-and-gentle approach.
She pressed her hand over his and squeezed, making him tighten his hold on her breast. “I want you to trust your instincts, Theo. I bet you know how to make a woman feel good. You have permission to explore.”
The pronouncement sent a surge of desire and confidence in him. He’d never had sex with a domme, so hadn’t known how far the roles would go. But having a green flag to make Maggie feel good was like winning the lottery. It’d been a long time, but once upon a time, he’d known just how to drive a woman wild in bed.
He let his hand trail down Maggie’s arm and then tugged, pulling her into bed with him. She laughed when she landed with an oof and knocked the air out of him for a moment. He slid his hands up her thigh. “Are you laughing at me, mistress?”
“Of course I am. I enjoy seeing you wince like that.” She straddled his waist, the damp heat of her sex pressing against his abdomen. He bit back the groan of need. She was soaked for him. Even having just come, his cock was already perking up for the party again. But he wouldn’t rush this. He moved his hands over the tops of her thighs and up her waist. When he reached her breasts, he brought the tips to points again, and then guided her down.
At the first sweet taste of her against his tongue, she moaned and shivered in his grip. It was the best damn sound he’d ever heard. He sucked and caressed, mapping her curves and relishing the taste of her—warm and lush and all woman. “You’re so beautiful.”
She gripped his shoulders, trying to keep her balance as he worshipped her breasts. “Says the man with the blindfold.”
He smiled against her skin. “I’ve memorized every part I’ve ever gotten the privilege to see, Maggie. That little freckle on your collarbone, the way your bottom lip juts out when you’re planning something particularly tortuous, how your hair color changes in the light. I know what I’m talking about. You’re an artist, but you’re also art.”
“Theo …”
He heard the ache in her voice and knew he’d probably let too much slip out, but the combination of his orgasm and this beautiful woman beneath his lips made him forget to be careful. He was drunk on her. He put his hand on her waist. “I need to taste more of you, mistress.”
“God, yes.”
In his previous life, he would’ve shifted her beneath him, spread her out, but Maggie pushed back and then scooted herself up his body. His belly went tight with need when the scent of her arousal curled around him. She was above him, knees on each side of his head, a
nd her pussy presented like the best prize he could imagine.
He’d never pleasured a woman this way, but the position and the blindfold only edged his arousal higher, and when she grabbed his hair and adjusted him just how she wanted, he decided he was having some kind of pornographic dream. Maggie riding his mouth and using him for her own pleasure? Yes, let’s order that. A double serving, please.
“Show me what you can do, sub. Do a good job and maybe I’ll take that blindfold off.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice rough with aching desire. He placed his hands on her waist and lowered her to him. When he got his first taste of her and heard her uninhibited moan of pleasure and his name on her lips, all became quiet in his world. The earth stopped spinning. The past and future ceased to exist. It was just him and Maggie and this moment. For the first time in as long as he could remember, the demons loosened their hold with no pain involved.
This woman was all that mattered right now. And he was going to make her fly.
SIX
Maggie had lost all sense of composure by the time Theo slipped his hand between them and pushed two fingers into her while he licked her. She had one hand braced on the headboard and the other gripped in his hair as she tried not to go over too quickly. The stoic doctor was a fucking master with his mouth. Often she had trouble getting off without the help of a vibrator, but goddamn, this man seemed to know exactly what spots to hit and how to bring her to the edge and then back.
And seeing him so into it only ratcheted up her arousal higher. She’d been worried that she’d push too hard and scare him off tonight. His wounds ran deep, and she didn’t want to compete with his wife’s memory. But she’d also seen glimmers of that part of him that wanted to break free of it all. Even when she’d gone down on him, she could sense how locked up he was—like even allowing himself the briefest of pleasure was too much.
She could’ve changed tactics then. She’d known if she had flipped the night to focus on pain, he would’ve gotten lost in that, it would’ve made it easier on both of them. But then they would’ve been back to where they’d started. She didn’t want to ignore his need for pain. She’d loved those sessions with him. But she also wasn’t going to let him use it as a crutch anymore. So she’d done the most sadistic thing of all; she’d forced him to focus on pleasure.
And when she’d felt him go over into release, she’d almost cried out with him. Feeling his body clenching around her fingers, his taste spilling on her tongue, hearing the gritty sounds he was making—all of it had given her the sweetest high. Her body had throbbed for him. The man was sex personified when he let go. But she’d also gotten this warm contentment bleeding through her, this sense of being right where she needed to be.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew this was probably a temporary reprieve while he was still riding the high of his own orgasm, that when cold reality crept in again, he’d probably run. But right now, she was going to enjoy every moment. And maybe, just maybe, this one night could put a chink in that brick wall he kept around him. One tiny shaft of light sneaking through could be a start.
She wished she could be the one to break down the wall completely. She wanted the man with a ferocity that scared her. She didn’t understand it. In a lot of ways, she hardly knew him, but something inside her had latched onto him from day one—this feeling of fate, of destiny. Her flighty, artistic heart had fallen for the guy. Luckily, her brain was much more rational and kept her in check.