by Dee Palmer
“I like the sound of that,” I mutter. My heart rate kicks up a gear, already beating a strong staccato, and the hairs on my necks spike.
“Good girl.” His soft, full lips cover mine, and I lose myself in his dreamy, dexterous tongue, which engages mine in a delicious duel. His fingers curve and press down on the sweet spot inside me, causing me to both melt and explode. I bury my head in his neck as a waves of pleasure and embarrassment creep up my neck and settle on my face like a beacon. I’m a breathless, gasping, trembling wreck in his arms when he releases me. “But that will have to do for now.” He taps my nose, and I sag as my bones buckle with disappointment. I know he was just getting started.
SHE GRIPS MY HAND SO tight when she takes her first step on the red carpet, I chuckle and then mock groan as if in pain.
“Ease up there, Iron Man. I’m going to need that hand to fly us back tonight,” I tease.
“Sorry, I really don’t want to fall flat on my arse in front of the world’s press.” She tries to flash a smile, but I can see the panic in her eyes, and even the tiny curl of her lips looks like a huge effort.
“I would never let you fall, angel.” I dip my head so I can meet her worried gaze. She needs to see me and, I hope, understand I don’t just mean tonight. I wrap my arm around her waist, and we walk the long, red carpet. Each tentative step she takes seems to get easier as she finally starts to trust my secure embrace. A long line of golden rope separates an army of suited photographers and news crews that line the walkway from the curb to the main entrance of the movie theatre. The flashing lights and volume of cheering from the crowd gathered just beyond the rope and barricades, can be unnerving, and I sense Finn’s reticence, so I pull her in tighter to my side. In fairness we slip past almost unobserved; there are much bigger fish to catch than a silent partner in a major Hollywood production company, although Finn certainly could give any leading lady and Goddess of the Silver screen a run for her money.
I get accosted by a few reporters. I’m polite but brief, responding with a very firm, “No, I will not be leaving the Navy anytime soon to join Donald’s production company.”
Once we reach the door, I notice Finn exhale a huge a sigh of relief.
“Will your guardian be here tonight?” she asks. Her eyes are wide, though not with wonder at the glitz and spectacle, but for me, gazing and searching my face as if we are the only two people in the room. She’s utterly mesmerizing, and for the first time, I doubt myself and my choice of date location. We don’t need all this. I also don’t get the chance to answer her question.
“Charge, what the hell?” A loud, booming voice from across the foyer makes me both grin with pleasure and roll my eyes.
I lean down to whisper, “He’s here. Brace yourself.” It’s not necessary; I just want to be closer. I brush my lips just below her ear, and her whole body shivers. Perfect.
I turn and spot my guardian, Donald, a round man barreling through the gathered VIPs. The crowd parts like the Red Sea at his request. He’s almost as wide as he’s short, with no hair to speak of, but with a very broad, warm, genuine smile. He barely nods at me before focusing his attention on Finn, who presses her body just a little bit closer to mine. I continue to chuckle as her evasion tactic is steamrolled, and Donald manhandles her into a personal-space-invading, crushing hug, and a very showbiz kiss on both cheeks. He releases her and pushes her to arm’s length. It’s only because I know he’s utterly harmless that I allow him to touch her at all.
“You must be Finn. You know, he said nothing about your beauty.” Donald tsks and shakes his head with his mock reprimand.
“Donald.” I say his name with a warning tone that sounds much more like a threat. Good.
“I’m lying. He told me you were exquisite, and he wasn’t lying.” He waves off my scowl, and I scoff.
“Like I would say ‘exquisite’ any day of the week, but I certainly mentioned how goddamn beautiful you are.” I pull her back tight to my side and out of Donald’s overeager embrace.
“It’s very nice to meet you.” Finn looks to me for guidance, but before I can help her out, I’m interrupted.
“Call me Don, and the pleasure is all mine.” He takes her hand once more and kisses the back of it, but there’s a glint in his eyes, which is more rogue than chivalrous. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t count the number of invitations to these events you have turned down, but at least I can understand why you came this time.” He holds Finn’s arm out, appraising the vision. She’s my girl. Her pink cheeks darken under his scrutiny.
“You don’t like these things?” she asks me, a tight little frown creasing her flawless face.
“He hates them, even as a child.” Donald’s face pales, and I grip Finn’s hand a little harder, involuntarily, but she squeezes me right back. The comfort in that small gesture hits me hard, straight in the chest. My eyes dip to her, and I search the deep-blue pools. My heart continues to pound at the look she’s leveling at me, searing right through me. Compassion, yes, but so much more, and right now, with all these reminders, I’ll take everything I can from her.
Smiling down at her, I reply, “I still hate them, Donald, but at least tonight I can be guaranteed the very best company.” My forced bright tone and Hollywood smile quash the sadness and the sorrow-filled memories before they can take hold.
“You’re coming to the party.” A statement rather than a question.
“There’s a party after the film?” Finn’s question is laden with hesitancy, which fuels my doubt about being here.
“We don’t actually watch the film, my dear. That’s for the tourists.” Donald chuckles and gives an exuberant high wave above our heads at some people behind us, his focus having already moved on. He shakes my hand warmly and offers a string of fatuous platitudes to Finn that make me cringe. Judging by the tension in her jaw, she’s feeling equally nauseous by his insincerity.
“So, no film?” Finn gazes up at me, but I can’t make out her tone.
“We can watch the film, if you’d like.” I take a best guess and am happy to luck out when she answers and makes my fucking night.
She whispers conspiratorially, “Actually, I’d rather be with you, somewhere we won’t get kicked out for chatting.” She beams, tipping up on her toes, and making my cock twitch when she brushes her soft, full breasts against my arm.
“Me, too.” I grab her hand and briskly lead her through the foyer and out the rear of the theatre.
We lasted twenty minutes at the party, a room bursting with bullshit and Botox. Finn nursed her champagne and took sips through her clenched jaw. One look in her eyes revealed all I needed to know; she hated this as much as I did.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I smile at her instant response.
“At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I really do.” She fails miserably at hiding her pleasure at my suggestion, her smile bursts onto her face, lighting it up brighter than the Hollywood searchlight.
“Thank God.” I pull her hard against my body, relishing the full body shiver and sinful smile playing on her lips. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but then, when I’m with you, I frequently seem to lose my train of thought.”
“Is that bad?” A mischievous light dances in her deep-blue eyes and her smile dazzles.
“No, angel, that’s not bad at all, but let me take you home and show you what bad really is.” She bites her lips flat, stopping a whimper from escaping, though I still hear the sound muffled in her mouth. Her lids drop to half-mast, and her skin just fucking glows. I can’t wait to get her home.
Finn wanted to come back to the farm, rather than stay the night in the apartment and although the extra travel was a pain in my balls, it was the right choice and I’m glad we’re here, in my room. I have never been able to really explore this part of my nature, nothing beyond more than the odd blindfold or playful handcuff scenario, which only became a necessity after my accident. But even so, one-night stands are too brief to develop
the trust needed to really enjoy the possibilities when someone truly gives themselves: their body, mind, and submission. I feel about ten-fucking-feet tall looking at her: open, bare and bound—just for me. Perfect.
She’s kneeling on the deep, soft rug at the end of my bed, hands tied behind her back and her ankles cuffed together. Her pleading eyes nearly made me cave when I placed the blindfold over them, but I so desperately want to feel her skin on mine, it’s the only way. I can’t bare her eyes to look at me any other way—the way she looks at the others and the way she looks at me is no different, and I’m not ready for that to change. Despite what I told Pink, I’m not sure I ever will be.
My scars are ugly and not just disgusting distortions on my back and left side, they run so much deeper than the twisted skin. I shake the barrage of tortured images away and focus on the beauty before me. So damn stunning, she makes me ache all over in the best way possible, and I intend on satisfying that need. I’m as naked as she is and standing just in front of her, my painfully-hard length in my hand. The dull throb in my balls and unbearable stiffness don’t ease off with my attention, but I know what will help.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, angel.” My tone is low and sensual. Her body sways forward toward the sound, as if she needs a more physical connection. I want her need.
“I want to touch you.” I can feel her desire like a force field glowing around her; it’s intoxicating.
“I understand.” I watch her mouth purse. Clearly chewing on her cheek, she keeps wetting her lips with sweeps of her tongue.
Breaking the sensual silence, she states, “I want to see you.”
“I understand that too, angel. Now, tell me how you feel?”
“I’m…”—she puffs out a frustrated breath, her back arching subtly to push herself closer to where she thinks I’m standing. Her breasts look heavy, her nipples perfect, pink nubs, which are begging for attention—“hot and achy.”
“Wet?” I gravel out, low and throaty.
“Oh, God, yes.” She exhales with a needy groan.
“Have you read the binder?” My question obviously takes her by surprise, and her head tilts with confusion.
“Yes…most of it.” Her brow furrows.
“Did you read the others’ sections about oral preferences?” I continue, watching her features soften as she starts to follow my thought process.
“I did, but you didn’t have anything in your section about it or sex. It only said, ‘My way’.” Her voice drops to mimic my deep tone.
“Correct.” I step closer, and she straightens her back, feeling the heat from my body like a palpable wave thrumming with sexual tension. “I want you to show me what you’ve learned from the files, and if you remember every preference, I will tell you mine.”
“And if I don’t remember?” She raises her brow enough for it to peek above the silk blindfold.
“Do you want to please me, angel?” My tone drops an octave, but I keep it impassive. I don’t want her to know how much I need to hear her answer.
“Very much so,” she says without faltering.
“Then, as much as I’m sure I will enjoy your mouth around my cock, you and I will both know it won’t be as good as it could be.”
“Hmm, I understand.” Her shy smile at repeating my words makes my heart swell, causing my cock to drip excitement onto my thumb. I place the tip on her bottom lip and give her the first question in the form of my best friend’s name.
“Pink?” She purses her lips for a moment then flicks her tongue over the sensitive tip, circling the crown, with light delicate and fluttering licks. Her lips barely touch me; it’s all tongue work, along the shaft but mostly concentrating on the tip until my balls tighten and my toes curl. I caress her cheek to get her to ease up, before I blow out a slow, steadying breath to gather myself before I speak.
“Toxic?” I manage to say in a surprisingly level tone. It’s odd that once I mention my friends’ names they are gone from my head. I don’t think about her lips on them as she works me, which is a good thing. Nevertheless, I’m struggling to think of my own name, she’s so damn good. Her lips push over the crown, and I let out an agonizing groan. Good lord, that feels fucking amazing. I cup the back of her head but refrain from moving her, holding or guiding. She does all of it by herself, sucking along my shaft and dipping her head to take my balls one at a time into her wet, hot, talented, and sexy-as-hell mouth. Pulling each one with a gentle tug and releasing with a soft plop. Fuck, my knees feel weak. I tap her cheek, and she pulls back, her chin tipped high and her pouty, pink lips all swollen and wet.
“Tug?” I choke out, and she grins but then frowns. I see her wiggle her fingers.
“Um… I’m going to need my hands.”
“No, you won’t,” I correct, and her brows move like she might be rolling her eyes.
“Okay.” Shrugging, she drops her mouth wide open and waits. Damn, I could die a happy death, because there isn’t another sight in the world that looks quite as heavenly. I lift my cock and pull my balls up so she can drag her tongue exactly where Tug showed her on the very first day. Her tongue is tentative at first, clearly getting her bearings. Once satisfied she’s in the right place, she drags her hot, wet, and dexterous tongue slowly from just the side of my ass to the underside of my sack—the taint. It’s all I can do to keep my own position, when she moans and repeats the torture. Her tongue feels like a scorching hot ribbon, teasing pleasure from the very depths of my spine. I step back, and she manages to steady herself, before actually hitting the deck. I wouldn’t have let her fall, but I couldn’t let her continue.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Not at all, quite the opposite.”
“So you can tell me now. What’s your preference? What do you like?” Her tongue draws her bottom lip into her mouth; the anticipation is hell—for us both.
“You might not like what I’m going to say,” I grit out, tension in every fiber of my body, coiled and ready to explode.
“But I’ve earned the privilege to hear it all the same.” She tips her defiant chin, and I hold back a chuckle, like I would actually be crazy enough to deny her anything.
“Yes…yes, you have.”
“Tell me,” she pleads. I curse inwardly and pray at the same time.
“I want to make you gag. I want to stick my cock so far down your throat you’re choosing to swallow me rather than take your next breath and I’m not giving you the use of your hands to stop me.”
“Oh.”
“OH.” I REPEAT, GLAD HE can’t see my eyes, because with closed lids and the blindfold, I’m saved the embarrassment of him realizing how much his words turn me on; how much lust and desire is coursing through me and likely dripping onto his super soft rug. I’m wanton and filthy and so fucking happy. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, please, Sir. Is that better?” I quip with a cheeky grin.
“It’s a start.” His finger traces the edge of my jaw, coming to rest on my swollen plump bottom lip. My tongue darts out and then disappears. I beam up at him, and my heart thumps double time when I hear his breath hitch. I open my mouth and stick my tongue out as an open invitation no man will decline. His cock is heavy, and it throbs against the corners of my mouth when he slides the tip along the flat surface of my tongue. I have to stretch my lips wide to accommodate his size. He fills my mouth with just a few thick, solid inches. I start to ease back and forth, in and out, my tongue doing crazy things along his length, my eager lips pulling him in and sucking. When I moan, the vibrations travel though me, and judging by the pinch of his grip in my hair and ragged exhale, I think he feels them from the tip of his cock to the base of his balls.
His hands are threaded in my hair, and he starts to push deeper, slow and steady. I try to keep my teeth sheathed, but he’s so fucking enormous, it’s impossible. Luckily the pace is deeply delicious, not feral and frantic, so I can take him deeper the way he wants. I don’t just want to ple
ase him and give him the best blowjob of his life; I want to rock his fucking world.
He lets out a gravely, rough moan and curses under his breath. His hips lunge forward as he holds my head firm. My airway is cut off, and my breathing stops. The seconds drag, and my throat makes its first instinctive attempt to swallow him down. God, that feels amazing, making him moan like that. Best feeling ever. I can picture him coming undone. Unfortunately, that’s all I can do, picture it, I can only imagine his chiseled cut chest, toned defined torso with dips and lines in all the right places.
Strong thick thighs flexed and taut, adding to the power his fine arse is putting into each thrust, and his ridiculously beautiful face distorted with the pleasure he’s receiving. His thumb reaches round and strokes my throat, little encouraging touches that make all the difference. A feeling of calm and adoration envelops me. I swallow again and take him a little deeper before I feel the first judder of rejection at the back of my throat. He eases back to let the air flow.
“So fucking good, angel. So fucking good.” His voice is breathless, filled with wonder, and I feel invincible. I lap at his length as he pushes through my lips again, and each time he does, I take more of him, a little deeper and for a little longer. I can hear his labored breathing, and I know he’s close; I can taste it.
“I’m going to come, angel.” His gruff tone is tight with the effort to maintain control. I moan around his cock, and it’s like I’ve lit the powder keg without the fuse. An animal roar escapes his chest, and he can no longer help himself. He thrusts deep and hard, holding me tight against his abdomen as my throat contracts like crazy, and he empties himself, his throbbing cock pumping streams of hot liquid down my throat. I freeze for a long second, sparkling dots flitting over my tightly squeezed lids, and the first sways of dizziness prickle my skin. But he pulls back before that takes hold, or I come close to gagging. He lifts me from my position and right into his arms, his mouth on mine before I take a much-needed gulp of air. An urgent but quick kiss, then he breaks away and gives me space to steady my own breathing with deep and necessary pulls of oxygen. Even with the blindfold, I can feel his eyes bore into me, his arms embrace me and his words undo me.