He seemed to have difficulty focusing when I closed my lips around his thumb and sucked. His eyes hooded and his chest rose in a deep breath.
“I’m going to paint this,” he whispered. “The feeling of this moment.”
I pulled back off of his thumb, startled. “I had the same thought.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, but it grew serious as I took his thumb in my mouth again. This time I simulated exactly what I’d do if he let me. The throb between my thighs grew out of control. I felt foolish and ashamed, but not enough to stop.
My hands, resting on my thighs, tensed into fists as he dug his free hand inside his underwear and began to stroke himself. If I was going to stop him, I had to do it now. Once he was in my mouth, I couldn’t backtrack. It couldn’t be undone.
It was quiet from him. “I’m not going to destroy your sculpture.”
It was as if he’d injected relief into my bloodstream. Everything in me relaxed, and when the tension was gone, something dark and hungry took over. I fisted the sides of his jeans and underwear, and tugged down, releasing his erection. It jutted out from his body, hard and reaching for me.
Did he notice my hand shook when I grabbed him at the base? I was a mixture of nerves and something which felt oddly like excitement. It was strange. I didn’t usually enjoy pleasuring a man orally. It felt dirty, and . . . too intimate. Much more so then letting him in my body, because at least that act had purpose. Taking him in my mouth was only for pleasure, and only for his pleasure.
However, I’d emerged from prison a changed woman. Perhaps this new version was more sexually confident. Maybe I could peel at the corner of the “vanilla” label my ex-husband had slapped on me.
Alec’s hand retreated from my mouth and snaked to the back of my head, urging me forward. I claimed the tip of his length between my lips, squeezing my eyes shut tight. He sighed as I slid further along, widening my mouth to accommodate. He was long and thick, and tasted faintly of salty sweat.
He shuddered as I drew back off of him, and the hand behind my head nudged forward. It wasn’t something I particularly liked, but I wasn’t going to voice dissention. I was on my knees, begging and groveling in a way I hadn’t done before. I’d expected to be disgusted, yet . . . I felt only the ache in my center and the dampness which clung between my legs.
“Fuck.” His voice was as dark as the room had become.
I shivered.
His fingers twisted in my hair, tugging at the roots, speeding me along. My brow wrinkled in frustration. I wanted him to be easier, more gentle, but I also didn’t want him to stop. Alec’s soft moan punctured the quiet, and I could feel the vocalization on my skin. It reverberated down my spine.
I struggled to rasp air in through my nose as I kept up with the pace he demanded. He had his grip tangled in my hair, and moved his other hand to hold himself steady as he thrust into my mouth. Behind my closed eyelids, my eyes began to water. His dick surged deep into the back of my throat, causing me to clench tighter on the sides of his undone jeans.
Just as the words began to bubble up from my throat for him to stop, he slowed. His languid strokes were more manageable, and not all that unpleasant. He was hard and pulsing on my tongue, mirroring the heartbeat racing in my own chest.
“I want you topless,” he whispered. It wasn’t an order. It came as a desperate plea, which threw me further off balance. I’d had demanding, and I’d had silent, when it came to partners. The in-between was new and welcomed. Could I give in to his request?
I sat back on my heels and stared up at him as he fell out of my mouth, his dick shiny with my saliva. I crossed my arms, curled my trembling hands on the hem of my top and drew the fabric up, stretching upward until I was free of it and cast it aside.
But that was as far as I could go. Nerves
locked me up until my muscles refused to respond. I was already so exposed. It didn’t seem to matter to Alec. His gaze traced the curves of my breasts encased in a simple white bra, and his lips parted to gulp down a huge breath. He stared at me as a man who’d been thirsty for days and only I could quench his thirst.
He gripped the sides of his jeans and hiked them back up on his waist, but left them unzipped.
It was stunning when he sank to his knees before me and repeated the action I’d just done. His arms crossed and yanked at the white cotton, freeing his body from his t-shirt and tossing it away with force. He was all tanned, smooth skin, like he spent more of his time surfing than creating his art.
I inhaled sharply when his warm arms wrapped around me and located the clasp of my bra. His mouth locked onto mine urgently. This was supposed to be a simple transaction. I took him in my mouth to completion, and then we renegotiated what to do regarding my sculpture. But now he was on his knees as I was, equal, and he seemed just as much of a slave as I was to the unexpected pull between us.
I moaned against his crushing mouth and sank into his arms like a woman possessed. He was a stranger who could end my career and send me back to hell. Why was I consenting to this? Why on earth was I enjoying this?
My bra went slack and the straps fell from my shoulders. I let him fist the center of it and tug it free from my arms, but I was a panting disaster. It was embarrassing the sounds coming from me and how my sex-starved body arched into his touch, willing him to fill his greedy palms with my naked flesh.
His hands roved from one side to the other as if painting lust on my body. I fought to quiet the yelp as he tweaked a nipple, pulling it with a tug of discomfort, but it doused me with heat. I was spinning out of control, drunk off the sensation as he pressed his bare chest to mine.
Alec’s kiss shifted from sweet to commanding in a single breath. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and bit down, nipping at me. It wasn’t hard, but there was a faint edge of pain and my mind wasn’t sure how to react.
I wanted pain and pleasure to stay separate. In fact, pain had no place in my bedroom. I’d never understood Jonathan when he’d changed. The sweet, loving man I’d married left me long before I left him. He’d gone from making love to wanting to pin me down, to force me . . . He’d wanted to hurt me.
I’d tried it his way. Not all that much, but at least I’d made an effort. It only ended in disappointment for both of us. Yet, this soft pain now was . . . interesting. A tease, not a promise of more to come.
Alec released my lip and his mouth carved a line down my chin, over my neck, and to the base of my throat. The coarse skin of his palms smoothed up and down my naked back, his fingertips tracing the hollow of my spine.