stolen kisses

I launch myself at him and kiss his face, his throat, his chest, his little round scars. He groans, pulls me to him, and kisses me passionately. And very slowly, and tenderly, at his pace, he makes love to me once more.

I fumble sleepily for my seat belt, but he fastens it for me. He kisses my forehead before settling back into his seat. I lean my head on his shoulder again and close my eyes.

“I don’t want you to hurt me, but I like to play. You know that. If you wanted to do something . . .” I shrug, gazing at him.“Something?”“You know, with a flogger or your crop—” I stop, blushing.He raises his brow, surprised. “Well . . . we’ll see. Right now, I’d like some good old-fashioned vanilla.” His thumb skirts my bottom lip, and he kisses me once more.

“I like to please you.” He delicately traces his thumb over my bottom lip.“You do,” I acknowledge, my voice a whisper.“I know,” he says softly. He leans forward and whispers in my ear, “It’s the one thing I do know.” Oh, he smells good. He leans back and gazes down at me, his lips curled in an arrogant, I-so-own-you smile.

Pursing my lips, I strive to appear unaffected by his touch. He is so artful at diverting me from anything painful, or anything he doesn’t want to address. And you let him, my subconscious pipes up unhelpfully, gazing over her copy of Jane Eyre.

His lips curl in a slow carnal smile. “Come home.” His tone is seductive.“I have work to do.”“Home,” he says, more insistent.We gaze at each other, molten gray into bewildered blue, testing each other, testing our boundaries and our wills. I search his eyes for some understanding, trying to fathom  how this man can go from raging control freak to seductive lover in one breath. His eyes grow larger and darker, his intention clear. Softly, he caresses my cheek.“We could stay here.” His is voice low and husky.Oh no. My inner goddess gazes longingly down at the wooden table. No. No. No. Not in the office. “I don’t want to have sex here.”

“No . . .” The words are out of my mouth in whispered horror before I can stop them.“Yes,” he says, and grasping my chin, he leans down and plants a tender kiss on my lips.“Oh,  you scare me sometimes.” I grasp his head in my hands, twist my fingers into his hair, and pull his lips to mine. He stills for a moment as his arms fold around me.“Why?”

''Kiss me. Take me home,” I plead. And as his lips touch mine, I am lost.“Oh please,” I beg, as he blows gently on my sex.“All in good time,” he murmurs.I pull on my restraints and groan loudly in protest from his carnal assault. I’m trussed up in soft leather cuffs, each elbow bound to each knee, and his head bobs  and weaves between my legs, his masterful tongue teasing me, relentless. I open my eyes and gaze unseeing at our bedroom ceiling bathed in the soft late afternoon light. His tongue moves round and round, swirling and curling over and around the center of my universe. I want to straighten my legs and struggle in a vain attempt to control the pleasure. But I can’t. My fingers fist in his hair and I tug hard to fight his sublime torture.

“Don’t come,” he murmurs in warning against me, his soft breath on my warm, wet flesh as he resists my fingers. “I will spank you if you come.”I moan.“Control. It’s all about control.” His tongue renews its erotic incursion.Oh, he knows what he’s doing. I am helpless to resist or stop my slavish reaction, and I try—really try—but my body detonates under his merciless ministrations, and his tongue doesn’t stop as he wrings every last ounce of debilitating pleasure from me.“Oh” he scolds. “You came.” His voice is soft with his triumphant reprimand. He flips me onto my front, and I shakily support myself on my forearms. He smacks me hard on my behind.

“Ah!” I cry out.“Control,” he admonishes, and grabbing my hips he thrusts himself into me. I cry out again, my flesh still quivering from the aftershocks of my orgasm. He stills while deep inside me and, leaning over, unclips first one, then the second cuff. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his lap, his front to my back, and his hand curls beneath my chin around my throat. I revel in the feeling of fullness.“Move,” he orders.I moan and rise up and down on his lap.

“Faster,” he whispers.

And I move faster and faster. He groans and his hand tips my head back as he nibbles my neck. His other hand travels leisurely across my body, from my hip, down to my sex, down to my clitoris . . . still sensitive from his earlier lavish attention. I whimper as his fingers close around me, teasing me once more.“Yes,” he rasps softly in my ear. “You are mine. Only you.”“Yes,” I breathe as my body tightens again, closing around him, cradling him in the most intimate way.“Come for me,” he demands.And I let go, my body obediently following his command. He holds me still as my climax rips through me and I call out his name.“I love you,” he groans and follows my lead as he bucks into me, finding his own release.