- Home
- Mr. Beautiful
Page 41
Page 41
She bit her lip and did it.
I looked up at her once she was up there, gauging the position.
I moved to stand on the footstool, then motioned her to me, until she was close enough that I could lean forward and kiss her naval, tonguing the piercing there.
"Will your wedding dress be too thin to hide nipple clamps?"
"Yes," she gasped.
"Hmm, okay, I'll work around it," I said, then pulled off her thong with my teeth.
I threw her leg over my shoulder, gripped her ass in both hands, and went to town on her pu**y, eating her out, feasting on her sweet pink flesh.
I used my tongue to move the little barbell against her cl*t as I shoved my fingers into her, finger f**king her right to the brink.
When she was close, I took my mouth away, ripped my fingers out, and shrugged her leg off my shoulder.
I held my arms up to her. She leaned unsteadily into them. I lifted her down.
I took off my slacks. There was a long narrow bench along one of the walls, and I pulled it out. One of its sides was much taller than the other, and I leaned back on it. It was meant for putting on boots, but it had other, better uses as well.
I put my arms behind my head and looked at her. "Straddle me," I ordered.
She straddled me easily with those long legs of hers. The bench made for easy access cowgirl.
I gripped her h*ps and looked up into her face as she rubbed her pu**y over my broad tip.
She still had on the lacy white bra, and I left it on. It was transparent enough that I could see her pebbled ni**les pushing tightly against the material.
"Give me your mouth," I commanded.
She leaned forward, brushing her lips over mine softly.
I parted her lips, pushing my tongue inside. My hands moved from her h*ps to cup her face as I pushed up into her.
She moaned into my mouth. I held still like that, not moving my h*ps as I held her impaled and kissed her, over and over.
"We need to discuss some wedding details," I told her between kisses.
She groaned, and it wasn't with pleasure.
I pulled away, hands going back to her hips, eyes on her face. I lifted her slowly up and down my thick shaft, setting a pace meant to tease more than satisfy. And her tightness, and my thickness, made it so each drag in and out held a little slice of torture.
I quickened the pace, surging up into her harder, filling and withdrawing, time and again, but never enough.
I stopped abruptly, hands going up into her hair. I dragged her down for another series of long, drugging kisses.
She groaned loudly as my tongue parted her lips, thrusting inside. I kissed her, not moving inside of her, until she was on the brink.
I tore my mouth away, gripping her ass, and slowly began to move my hips, leisurely thrusts.
I quickened my pace, driving in more forcefully, but only for a short time.
I stopped, grabbed the back of her neck, and dragged her down for another deep, branding kiss.
I repeated the teasing process, time and again.
I was moving her slowly up and down my shaft when she cried out suddenly, "Is this a punishment?"
"No," I said surprising myself. "Just a bit of sweet torture. Savoring the bliss, love. Have I told you how much I love it when I catch you playing wedding dress up, oh bride of mine?"
She almost smiled, but I'd put her in a state of rapturous agony, and it was more of a pained grimace.
I groaned. I could feel my balls tightening up, my body long since wanting to come, but instead I lifted her off me.
She cried out a protest, and I shot her a warning glance as I stood.
Hooking a finger in her collar, I pulled her from the closet to the bedroom.
I told her to stand still by the bedpost and went to the toy dresser.
Her lacy white thigh-highs were driving me wild, and I barely took my eyes off her to reach for restraints.
I cuffed her arms up above her head, attaching them to a hook high up on the bedpost.
I filled one hand with a plump tit, the other with her straining neck, rubbing my broad tip against her slick entrance. With a groan I surged into her, moving fast and rough this time, f**king her with purpose.
I squeezed her neck when she started to come, exerting just enough pressure to enhance her pleasure as she found her release.
I followed with a groan, leaning down to bite the tendon in her neck.
Later, over dinner, I told her about Tristan's request.
She looked as conflicted as I felt.
"Danika won't like it," she said simply. "We can't do it unless she agrees to it."
"I'll talk to her."
She made a face. "I can . . . if you want me to."
I laughed, couldn't quite hide a smile. We both knew how much she'd hate the task. I didn't like it much either, but of course I'd do it, to spare her having to.
Danika took it much better than I expected, quickly making a point to reassure me that she could play nice and wouldn't cause any drama at the wedding.
"Even if you have to sit next to him?" I asked carefully, feeling like I was walking through a field of land mines.
We were at the casino. I'd called her up to the office during working hours, because it seemed like something I should tell her about in person.
She took a deep breath, but then nodded, not even looking upset about it. "That's fine."
"Even if you have to walk with him in the wedding?"
"It's fine. I'm fine with it, James. If I can't be nice to one person for one day, your wedding day, then what kind of a friend would I be?"