The Professional: Part 2 (The Game Maker #1.2)(4)

As if he cherished me.

He’d tied me up to use my body, then given me a lover’s kiss.

Maddening man! As his lips and tongue leisurely claimed my own, I thrashed against my bonds, desperate to grasp his head, to bury my fingers in his hair so I could hold his mouth to mine.

I feared I’d lose my mind before the afternoon was through. And quite possibly my virginity. Did I trust what he’d said, about not f*cking me until I begged? Yes. But did I trust my promise to myself not to beg?

Perhaps I wasn’t strong enough to resist him.

He pulled away, brushing my hair from my forehead, adjusting my blindfold just so. “Lovely little Natalya.”

I sputtered, “How do you have so much control?”

“I made you a promise that you’d come harder than you ever have before. I keep my promises to you. Now, open your mouth again.”

I eagerly did, licking my lips for whatever he wanted to put between them. . . .

His cock. Without the water. Allowing me to better taste him. I eagerly lapped at the plump head, tonguing the moistened slit in the middle.

When he took it away, I thrashed anew. “Nooo!”

With one hand, he caged my throat; with his other, he thumbed a nipple. “Still.”

I somehow calmed myself. Then another sensation against my mouth. Tightly rippled flesh. When I realized what he’d given me this time, I shot up, moaning against his testicles, my tongue swathing the ridges. In my frenzy, I sucked one wholly between my lips, trying for the other.

“Uhn!” He groaned long and low. “Greedy girl,” he repeated.

Again he drew away, depriving me. Of his skin, his flesh, his sex, his mouth. He’d deprived me of this world he’d created—where he was everything. What would he do next? How would he touch me?

I felt his mouth on my breast, trailing kisses toward my nipple. Would he torment me as he had on the plane, avoiding the tips . . . ?

Yet as he licked the globes of my breasts, he pinched both nipples. Hard.

Harder. Tightening down on the peaks. It was painful—blissfully so.

He rasped, “You like that.”

“Oh, God,” I moaned as he pulled on them—

Only to abruptly release them.

He leaned down, mouth and tongue wrapping around a nipple, softly suckling as if to kiss away a pang. When he released it, I twisted to arch my other breast to him.

A dark chuckle sounded against my skin, but he obliged me. Once he began tracing his lips down my torso, he left both of my nipples aching and damp in his wake—and me already on the verge of coming.

He reached my navel, circling it with flicks of his tongue, then kissing it as if he were drinking from me. As his mouth dipped lower, he laid his hands flat over my upper thighs, his fingers stretching to my mons. Like he’d done in the cornfield.

Reading my mind, he said, “I’ve imagined that night ending differently. I fantasized that you wanted me to f*ck you there, under the moon.” He pulled my lips apart with such a sure touch. I could feel how soaked I was, how my folds flared.

His finger followed my wet seam, making me shudder. “Ty takaya nezhnaya.” You’re so soft. “So beautiful here.” My hips thrust hungrily, my exposed * empty. “How could I not want to devour you at every chance?” He cupped my bottom. With his ringed fingers splayed across my ass, he lifted me like a bowl to his mouth, then ran the tip of his tongue from my core to my clit.

“Oh, God, yes!”

One finger entered me as he licked. Then he wedged a second one inside. But he removed them too soon, too soon—

“Do you want to know what heaven is for me?” Those fingers briefly dipped into my mouth for me to suck.

My taste! My taste was heaven for him. How could that turn me on so much? Again he took those fingers away too soon.

Attention fully on my *, he nuzzled me, then tugged my clit between his lips, nursing on it so softly. My entire body was quaking. He’d imprisoned me with his bonds—and his mouth—keeping me on the verge of coming with an expert cruelty.

When his suction finally increased, the bud swelled till it throbbed against his tongue. So close . . . so close . . .

He released it with a wet sound.

“No, don’t stop!” It was a bundle of such unbearable sensitivity, I could feel mist alighting on it.

As if it was his toy, he blew on it. He played with it. Tormented it between his teeth. “So tiny, so luscious,” he said in a gravelly voice. “And it will make you do things for me that you’ve never dreamed.”

My toes curled, my fists clenched. How long had he kept me in this misery? I didn’t know if minutes had passed or hours. “Too much!” How could boundless pleasure be so excruciating?

He drew on me even harder. At last! Should I tell him that I was about to trip over the edge? He would deprive me of my orgasm, just as he had everything else. Hide how close you are. Don’t let him know—

“If you come before I give you permission, you’ll be punished.”

I writhed with frustration. Orgasm denial, just as I’d read about. “I-I need to come. Please.”

“Say that in Russian. I love that word from you.”

“Pozhaluista!”

“Enjoy more of my kiss.” I felt his ragged breaths against my spread opening. “But do not come.”