Page 71 of Tied Up in Riches

“Good girl,” he says like he’s celebrating me taking a fucking breath, the number one thing I should be doing reflexively to stay alive. It seems so silly, and yet, his words lift a weight from me, allowing me to relax into the mattress.

I take another deep breath as his palm smooths from my stomach to my thigh, mirroring his other hand as he presses his fingers into my skin. Then his tongue is on me, flat and warm, running the length of me.

I don’t squirm or flinch. It’s like my body anticipated it, letting out a sigh of pleasure. He licks me again, this time his tongue dipping barely inside me. Holy shit that feels good.

His grip on my thigh loosens. Immediately worry rushes through me, but his hand slides to my stomach, and I know he’s just reminding me to breathe.

I don’t count the passing seconds, but I focus on air, on taking deep breaths and imagining it flowing through my body, my muscles, my veins–every part of me. His tongue presses against me again and every nerve ending sparks. Damn. Maybe there is something to this breathing thing.

I take another breath, directing the life force straight to where Marcus’ mouth is hot on my skin as he sucks on my clit. My exhale releases as a moan, my voice cracking and unrecognizable. I send my next breath to where his fingers dig into my inner thighs and my sensitivity heightens as he licks the length of me again. And again.

I try to take deep breaths but they come shorter and faster as his tongue consumes me. “Fuck,” I mumble under another sharp exhale, losing my breath as he drives his tongue inside me, flicking it, over and over.

My hands move from the bed like they want to reach for his hair, dig in, and keep him right where he’s at. But I force them to stay where they are, in tight fists full of tension and holding back from everything I want from Marcus.

His palm slides to my stomach, warm on my skin, bringing an awareness of my lack of breath again. I breathe in deep and the rise and fall of his hand satisfies him enough to move his hand back where I want it.

His tongue drags over me, his mouth back to sucking on my clit at the same moment he drives two fingers inside me.

My back arches on instinct, and Marcus’ other hand flies back to my stomach, keeping me in place. I notice I’m holding my breath. Try to relax on the mattress. Direct my breath to the sensation building inside me as his fingers move in and out of me, his sucking steady. The feeling sneaking up isn’t too familiar, but I know it. I want it. My fists grip the comforter, my fingers balling around the fabric as the pressure builds.

Then his fingers pull out just barely more than they have been, and I’m knocked back. The sensation fades ever so slightly before building again as he resumes his consistent motion. He pulls his fingers from me, pressing them into my thigh as he replaces them with fucking me with his tongue. Again, my orgasm slips barely out of reach. It’s like I’m running toward the edge of a cliff and instead of free falling over I slam into an invisible wall, and I have to start over.

I sigh in defeat. I want this, and I don’t understand why I can’t have it.

Marcus freezes, a cool air hitting where I’m wet as his tongue abandons its place. And again, his touch leaves me. It’s only gone a moment before his weight is over me again–this time enough that his body touches mine. The soft fabric of his shirt brushes my skin where my tank has shifted up a bit.

And then his lips are on mine.

The kiss is soft. And lingering. But he doesn’t make a move to deepen it. It’s like he’s simply trying to ground me. He trails to my ear, his lips softly brushing against my skin until he’s close enough to whisper. “I want to do this.” The confession makes me freeze. Makes me wish I could see. Makes me want to take this blindfold off and confirm he means sex and not me.

He drops his hips against my core, and I feel him through his slacks, hard against me. “I want this,” he repeats, his voice deep and commanding. “I want you. Not just sex. And not for pretend.”

It’s like he can read my mind and my heart. All of a sudden I believe him. Believe this is real. And pray like hell that it's not some sex haze that’s clouding meaning. “I want this for real too.”

His grin against my ear is brief before his weight shifts away from me. His thumb brushes across my cheek, below where his tie covers my eyes. I should be startled, not seeing his touch coming. Instead, I just feel everything. I feel alive. Focused on nothing but him. His mouth presses into mine mid-breath, and without thinking twice I let my hands do what they want sliding around his neck and pulling him closer. We deepen the kiss simultaneously, his tongue tangling with mine between heated breaths from both of us. His hand trails down my body as he’s propped up on his other arm, pressing into me without giving me too much weight. He slips his fingers under my silk shirt, the sensation of him hot compared to the cool of the fabric, only made hotter by him pinching my nipple between his fingers, rough and demanding as he twists and elicits a moan muffled by our kiss.

My fingers thread through his tied back hair, feeling the elastic loosen as I do. He frees my breast from his grasp, sliding his palm against my skin, between us. His fingers toy with my entrance, the pad of one creating small circles and instant wetness.

He breaks our kiss, only to press his lips softly against mine once more. Then he descends again. This time, I relax, as he kisses his way down my throat, across my collarbone, between my breasts, skipping over the fabric of my shirt to my stomach. He kisses me soft, broken by nips at my skin that shoot pleasure closer and closer to my core.

My orgasm builds again even though no part of him is inside me.

Then he is.

Two of his fingers shove inside me.

His tongue laps at me right above where his fingers slide in and out.

The darkness holds all my focus on him. Every place his fingers hit as they drag inside me before pushing back in. The increasing sensitivity of his tongue, hot and steady sucking my clit, then licking near my opening. Suck. Lick. In and out.

Holy shit.

The palm of his other hand flattens against my stomach, holding me down, making me realize I was squirming and reminding me to breathe. I take a deep breath and it hits.

It hits me everywhere.

The ball of tension at my core explodes, flinging me off the cliff I’ve been on the edge of, and I soar. The breath I suck in gives life to every cell in my body, and I’m floating despite Marcus holding me down. The pressure holds me in place, but I’m still everywhere. His fingers work inside me, sending new shots of pleasure that echo through my body with each thrust. His tongue warm against my wet skin, flooding me with a new sensation. Like when you hand surf a wind wave out your car window in chilly air. The rush hits where it makes contact but sends a chill through the rest of your body, and you feel like you're weightless like you’re in nothing, yet you feel everything.