Page 37 of Omega
He sounded very pleased with himself. “I have. Some very special plans. Which is why you’d better get some sleep, because tomorrow is going to be a long day. Lots to do.”
“Like each other?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “If you’re good.”
I tried to look innocent, the whole wide-eyed blinking look. “And if I’m bad?”
“Don’t tempt me, Kyrie. You’re too cute to handle when you’re this drunk.”
“I’m notthatdrunk,” I protested.
He let go of me, and I promptly stumbled. “Oh no?” He turned me around, faced me toward the bed. “I bet you can’t make it to the bed without falling.”
“And if I do, I get to tie you up and have my way with you. I never got you back for Vancouver, if you remember.”
His eyes went hungry. “Ah, Vancouver. A delightful night. I think I still have marks on my back from your fingernails.” He bit my earlobe, whispering. “If you make it to the bed without stumbling even once, I will allow you to tie me and do as you wish.”
“I’m going to have you tied up for hours.” I twisted to glance at him, and somehow ended up sideways, his hands holding me upright. “I’m gonna keep you on the edge of orgasm for so long you’ll beg me to let you come.”
“You don’t have to tie me up to make me beg for you, Kyrie.” He unzipped my shorts, letting them fall to the floor. He stripped off my T-shirt, unhooked my bra, and tossed both aside. “All you have to do is get naked and I’ll be ready to beg.”
Clad in nothing but my underwear, I forced myself upright, focused on the bed, which suddenly seemed to have propagated into more than one bed. Stupid multiplying Tempur-Pedic. Focus. Focus.
I maybe possibly spread my arms out like a tightrope walker, much to Roth’s amusement. And then I took a step. A single, very wobbly step. And then another. My arms windmilled, and the world tipped sideways, but I managed to remain upright and take another step. Ireallywanted to tie up Roth. Dear Jesus, to have him spread-eagled on the bed, hands bound, feet bound, big juicy cock bared and begging for me to play with…? I was all wet just thinking about all the various ways I could torture him. The more I focused on what I could do to Roth, the closer I made it to the bed without stumbling. But shit, when had this room gotten so big?
I could fellate him until he was ready to come, and then stop. And then I could kiss him all over, everywhereexcepthis cock, until he was starting to lose his hard-on, and then I could lick him like an ice cream cone but never actually put my mouth on him. Oh god, that would drive him absolutelynuts. Ha. See what I did there? It’d drive him…nuts? I’m so funny.
And then I was at the bed, triumphant, spinning in place to gloat—which, it turned out, was my downfall. Literally. I fell over and landed sideways on the bed.
“That counts! I made it!” I shouted.
Roth was there, standing beside me, lifting me upright. “You fell, darling. It doesn’t count.”
“I made it to the bed first!”
He squeezed my nipple between a thumb and forefinger until I gasped. “You fell without touching the bed first. It does not count.”
I pouted. “But I want to tie you up.”
“Why?” He pinched the other nipple, and then bent to take it in his mouth, suckling until my nipples were both rigid and hypersensitive.
“Because I want to.”
“Butwhydo you want to, Kyrie? You know my history regarding being bound.”
I let my head tip backward as he sank to his knees, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, drawing my panties down as he went. I gasped when his tongue touched my clit, momentarily lost my train of thought. “I—um. Because…” I glanced down at him, at his head, blond hair longer than it had ever been, curling around his collar, caressing his temple, brushing over his forehead and in his eyes. He’d grown out a beard, too, which I really liked. It tickled, but it was soft, now. At first it was scratchy—which led to a few weeks of a no-pussy diet for Valentine, but when he insisted it was grown out enough to be soft I let him go down on me again, and Jesus, it was amazing. The tickling made it all the more intense, because it was a counterpoint to the ecstasy of his talented tongue. So now he was long-haired, bearded, rugged. And Ilikedit. I didn’t usually go for the rugged look, but with Roth, anything was sexy as hell.
But looking down at him, I had a memory of him on the old boat, somewhere in the Mediterranean, handcuffed to the bed, naked, crazed, bruised, bloody, wild. And I remembered.
“Because you’remine,” I growled. “And I won’t let her have any part of you. I want to tie you up so I can take the experience away from her.”
I was airborne, twisted, and I bounced down on the bed in a sitting position. He undid his khaki cargo shorts with one hand, and I helped him with his underwear while he peeled off his shirt. I groaned at the sight of his cock, waiting for me. Hard, veined, thick, balls heavy and straining with come, belly flat and grooved with chiseled abs.
He gripped my hips and pulled me closer to him; I wrapped my legs around his waist and gazed up at him as he drove into me. No warning, no gentility. Just one hard thrust and he was balls-deep in me, vivid, piercing cerulean eyes hot as blue flame.
My tits jounced as he fucked me, wordless. He was wild, suddenly. Feral. Primal.
I knew I’d said the right thing.