a nearly invisible pair of beige thong panties and gold shoes. And that fucking sexy black tie around her wrists.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
He grabbed the bottle of champagne and carried it and the two glasses to the table beside the bed, along with the thoughtfully provided towel.
“How can I drink champagne with my hands tied behind my back?”
He smiled. “You’re not going to drink it. Not yet, anyway. Lie down.” He pulled the dripping bottle out and opened it with a soft pop of the cork, then carefully filled one flute.
She toed off her shoes and complied. He sat beside her on the bed and sipped the bubbly wine, watching her, taking in the excitement flaring in her eyes. Then he tipped the glass and poured champagne onto her chest, just a small trickle that ran down between her breasts to her stomach.
She gasped. “That’s cold!”
“Mmm. And your body is hot. This exquisite body deserves champagne.” He leaned down and gave her a long slow lick from her belly up over the groove of her abdomen to her breasts. He poured more right on her tits, some of it spilling down her sides to the bed. Again, he licked it off her, circling a tightly puckered nipple, the champagne fizzing on his tongue.
Her body quivered and a soft moan escaped her lips. “Your tongue is hot.”
“Want to lick you everywhere,” he murmured. He sucked her nipple, then moved to the other one. More champagne. More licking. He traced the contours of her breasts with his tongue, lapped wine from the small hollow at her throat where her pulse fluttered crazily.
“You’re getting the bed all wet.”
“Who cares? Roll over.”
She bent one leg and planted a foot into the mattress. “I can’t.”
He smiled. “Here.” He set the wineglass down, reached for her and flipped her over.
“I love how you can do that,” she gasped, now facedown on the puffy white duvet.
He held the glass above her back and poured a thin stream of champagne. It landed between her shoulder blades and ran down to the base of her spine.
“That bow tie might be toast,” he mused as the champagne wet it. “Oh well.” He commenced more licking and tasting of her delectable soft skin, including the curves of her ass and the backs of her thighs.
Sighs and moans filled the air. Sloane’s body twitched and trembled.
“I might be getting drunk,” he said long moments later. “Need you on your back again, gorgeous. I want to taste that sweet pussy. You and champagne. There’s an intoxicating combination.”
He helped her return to her back, made sure her hands were okay beneath her, then poured champagne all over her panties, soaking them.
“Oh my God,” she cried.
“Yeah.” The wet fabric outlined pouty lips. He kissed her there on that triangle of wet silk, then pulled the panties lower with his teeth. She lifted her hips to help him, and when he got them down to her knees he lost patience and used his hand to tug them all the way off. “Spread your legs, beautiful girl,” he murmured. “So I can sip champagne from you here.”
She obeyed so sweetly and he drizzled wine onto her pussy. She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Still cold?”
“Y-yes.”
“Let’s see.” He lapped at her. Her flesh was so hot it was a wonder the wine didn’t sizzle when it landed there. He stroked her with his tongue and she gave a throaty purr.
He lifted one foot to his shoulder as he took his time tasting her, drizzling champagne and making her shiver. “You’re making me drunk.” He licked her again. “Champagne and your sweet pussy.” He rubbed his tongue over her clit and her hips lifted to his mouth. “There you go. Come for me, pretty girl.” He sucked her clit and felt her body convulse, her soft cries the sweetest music. “Yeah. Just like that. Beautiful.”
With a lingering kiss on the inside of one thigh, he pushed back and rose from the bed. He set the wineglass on the table and stripped off his clothes, then grabbed a condom from the drawer where he’d stashed them earlier. He joined her on the bed, kneeling between her spread thighs.
“Probably time to untie you,” he said. “Let’s do that.” He rolled her to her side and plucked at the sodden tie. Christ. The knot was tight and now that the fabric was wet, it wasn’t going to come undone. He scraped with his short fingernails and swore.