Page 38 of All Your Lies

“Mediterranean food.”

The unmistakable sound of a door being pushed open fills the room. I turn my head toward the noise, even though I can’t see anything.

“My favorite,” I smile. The aroma of fresh and earthy notes hit me the second it lands on the table, making my mouth water.

I feel a hand touch my knee, and I squeal. “It’s just me. I came closer to feed you.” His hand lingers, running up to my thigh before stopping. “Open.”

I comply, wrapping my mouth around a forkful. I moan as the rich flavors of lemon and garlic hit my tastebuds, only for him to chuckle in return.

The food is phenomenal.

“You seem to guess all my favorite things.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s a suspicious thing,” I say around another bite of food.

“I won’t hurt you, baby.”

“Then what’s with the secretiveness? I still haven’t seen you. Hell, I don’t even know your name.”

“Isn’t that part of the fun?”

“Not if I don’t know what to call you.”

“There are many things you can call me, baby,” he says while rubbing a finger between the small gap in my thighs and hitting my clit with every swipe.

I’m at his mercy. Completely blind, yet acutely aware of all sensations. The light touch is so much stronger and more intense in the dark.

His firm hands separate my thighs, bringing my dress up just before my hips, making the cold air hit the inside of my legs.

I try to tug my dress down, but he grips my hands in his. “Place your palms on the chair’s armrests. Don’t move them. Good. Now open your mouth.” His voice has a deep, raspy quality to it, and it makes me comply and melt at the same time.

I almost choke on my bite of chicken as his fingers rub across my lacy panties that are wet against my folds. His finger hooks into my panties before he pulls them to the side.

With my heart pounding and my grip on the chair tightening, I anxiously await his next move, my breath held in anticipation.

A cold object is placed on my knee, causing me to flinch. “Easy, it’s just ice.”

He runs the piece of ice up my leg before placing it over my slit. “Oh God!” I moan.

“That’s one of the names you may call me.”

Another piece of ice runs over my other leg. It stings before turning cold and soothing my hot, sensitive skin. The ice melts and drips down my thighs in an almost tickling sensation. But when he puts it on my clit, a zing of electricity runs through my core.

The suspense of the unknown is making me crazy. I bump my hips into his fingers that are holding the ice against me.

“Are you feeling needy?” he asks near my ear. “You want to come?”

“Yes,” I say in a whisper.

“Yes, what? You know what you need to do.”

My hesitation lasts only a second before I surrender to my needs and beg, just like he wanted me to do.

“Please make me come.”

“As you wish,” he rasps.