that I have that effect on him, I give him a wide berth as I walk the final step or two to the bed, thinking that my massage might be at risk if I venture too close, but he’s a perfect gentleman. I push the pillows aside and spare him a glance over my shoulder (I have his avid attention, no question) before I open the towel in the front. I take a leisurely sip of the champagne, which is crisp and delicious. Then I make sure I remain covered to his eyes as I stretch out on my belly on the bed, resting my chin on my arms.
“Any areas that need special attention?” he asks, his voice thick as he comes to stand over me.
“I’m sure you’ll figure that out,” I say, sighing as I let my eyes roll closed.
“I look forward to it.”
With that, the maestro picks up his baton and plays me a symphony. His magical hands start at my shoulders and work every tired muscle with strong, rhythmic squeezes. He finds and loosens knots that I didn’t know I had, eliciting X-rated groans of pleasure from me. I know I sound like some manic adult entertainment star, but I swear I can’t help myself when he gets anywhere near me. He attends to my back, arms and fingers. He leans into my thighs and kneads my calves until my bones turn to molten gold, no doubt ruining my ability to ever walk again. Not that I care. He gets hold of my feet and exploits hidden pressure points that send zings of electrifying sensation directly to my pussy. He takes a battering ram to all my body’s tensions, leaving me both relaxed and energized. Reborn.
And then…
The towel slowly slips down the length of my body, further sensitizing my overheated flesh with its nubbly texture as it trails over my thighs and the backs of my knees and disappears.
My shiver of anticipation turns to an adrenaline surge when a long moment of nothing follows. He’s far too quiet. Far too still. And I know this is going to be good.
What can I say? When I’m right, I’m right.
His fingers gently brush aside a few strands of hair from my neck, then his mouth makes its grand entrance for the evening. It nips and nuzzles its way to the special place where neck curves into shoulder. I coo helplessly, a sexual puppet dancing on the end of his string. That’s intense enough. But then his mouth firms, his tongue enters the picture and I lose my fucking mind.
I don’t even know how to describe what he does to me, and it’s even more intense because no other part of his body touches me. To say that he kissed my neck would be like saying oceans tend to be damp. And of course Damon Black never does anything halfway. He’s probably genetically incapable of doing anything halfway. He…he…makes love to that tender hollow, the secret bundle of nerve endings that’s the key to any woman’s secret garden if her partner only takes the time to turn it.
And I sob with ecstasy. Tears and everything. Something—let me assure you—I’ve never done before.
Until his mouth skates up to my ear, his voice hoarse. Urgent. “You know I want to fuck you, princess.”
“Fuck me,” I whisper desperately, still lost amid my ugly cry. “Please.”
There’s no further warning. Just the rough grip of his hands on my hips as he both pulls me up to all fours and drags me to the edge of the bed. Rarely has a woman cocked her hips and spread herself wide with such abandon. It’s as though someone has set a doomsday clock on me and I will meet my ultimate destruction unless he is buried to the hilt inside me within the next second.
Eager to oblige, he enters me with a single hard thrust that makes us both cry out. He pumps relentlessly, his hard body slapping against mine exactly the way I need it to. His cock unerringly hitting the exact right spot inside me. I bear down, tightening all my inner muscles around him and laughing when he groans helplessly. But retaliation is swift. One of his hands leaves my hips and heads straight to my dangling breasts for an endless round of squeezing and nipple rubbing. His other hand? Straight to the vee between my legs, where his strong fingers exert the exact right pressure on my clit.
He punctuates every thrust with a