Shot in the Dark (Blackbridge Security #2) - Marie James Page 0,33
in together.
My mouth is hanging open, and I’m panting like a tired dog when he inches near.
“Stand up,” he commands, and I’m on my feet immediately.
Exactly like last night, his fingers tangle in my hair, palm resting on the back of my neck and he just looks down, watching my responses to him. Can he see the way my eyes dilate or the way my breathing grows even more ragged? Can he see the gooseflesh forming on my arms despite the heat of the room?
My guess is yes to all of those questions. He’s well aware of what he does to me, just like there’s no way around him hiding what I do to him. The evidence of it isn’t hidden very well behind his basketball shorts.
“Wren,” I whisper when he continues to look down at me without speaking.
It’s nerve-wracking and makes me anxious.
It’s thrilling and fills me with unspoken promises.
It’s absolute perfection.
Several long moments pass before he lowers his head, inching his mouth closer to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he nips at my bottom lip, pulling a frenzied gasp from my lungs.
My skin is on fire, sweaty and damp, and honestly, I’m wet everywhere. He makes me like this, all slick and ready. Before long he’ll be able to smell my desire because it’s going to permeate the humidity surrounding us.
From the way his eyes watch mine, I don’t think that would disappoint him much. Hell, it may be his goal.
He pulls a few inches back, and I want to move closer, but he hasn’t given me permission. The grip of my hair in his fingers is a command, and I have every intention of obeying.
“Tomorrow,” he husks out as his tongue dips to lick away the saltwater dripping down the column of my neck. “Dinner.”
I’m gasping now, ready to strip down and service him, but he doesn’t give me the order.
“I’ll message you the details.”
My skin is still tingling when he walks away. Even the cold that manages to infiltrate when he swings the door open doesn’t do a thing to cool my overheated skin.
I’m more breathless now than when I ran in here to hide. I should be freaking out. I should call Sarah and have her talk me off the ledge.
He’s exactly what I want, but at the same time he’s too much. My desires have always seemed to be too extreme. I don’t know where the guilt came from, but it’s been with me as long as I can remember. What I wanted never matched what my friends from school were experiencing, but high school boys really aren’t interested in foreplay and exploring. Get in, get out, move on. That’s what I saw happening. Even waiting until I was older and in college, I didn’t see much difference.
Sarah has told me once I need an older Dom, someone with more experience. Trying things out that I think I want with an inexperienced person isn’t a smart idea. She explained I could get hurt or they could do something wrong that would make me form wrong opinions.
So, although I want many things, although I feel these things deep in my bones, I’m close to completely inexperienced myself. I’ve done the spanking, tied up, let-me-take-care-of-you-baby sex before. It was lackluster at best. I’ve never had a serious conversation about limits, hard or soft, and because of that, my college boyfriend never took things seriously. He didn’t understand my needs. Thankfully, he was the type of guy that checked in all the time.
“Pull my hair,” I’d tell him, and he’d do it, only to ask if it’s too hard a second later. He couldn’t read my body, blaming me instead of his lack of skill when I wasn’t turned on and ready for him after he put so much effort into helping me through discovery. I remember thinking he was a great guy. He was kind and attentive until the last time. Leaving me tied up—not very well I might add as I was able to escape his knots in seconds—and telling me that pussy wasn’t worth this much effort. He could easily hit the frat house and have his cock in a girl’s throat in minutes.
Okay… maybe I do know where my apprehension and trauma came from, but that was so long ago. I never imagined it would still be affecting me now.
Clearly, I’m not over it.
When I leave the sauna, I almost convince myself to just head straight back up to my apartment,