A Feast of You (14 page)

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Authors: Sorcha Grace

Tags: #sex, #a taste of you, #a sip of you, #erotic romance, #sexy fiction, #love, #contemporary romance, #billionaire

BOOK: A Feast of You
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I raced to the master suite and into William’s giant closet, pulling off my T-shirt and yoga pants. My pre–Valentine’s Day lingerie shopping had yielded more than the just the red botanical lace ensemble I’d worn the other night. I opened one of my drawers and shook out a small bundle of tissue paper, which, given how much I’d paid for what was inside, should have been much bigger. I unwrapped the parcel, careful not to tear the layers of paper, and revealed probably the hottest lingerie I’d ever bought. I’d been saving it for something special, and tonight felt like the right night to take the plunge.

The Bordelle black open bra was basically an incredibly expensive holster for my breasts. The banding was trimmed in delicate lace and the front closure was made of eighteen-carat gold, but that’s all there was. No cups, no support, just a beautiful frame that showcased William’s favorite parts of me. I slipped it on, followed by the matching banded thong with eighteen-carat-gold accents, then a garter belt, black silk stockings, and black stilettos. I was trussed up in a way that I knew looked downright dangerous.

William rarely let me be in charge, and that worked for me because I liked submitting to him—in the bedroom. But for once, I wanted him to relinquish control to me. He’d shared all of the information about his family with me tonight and then asked me to trust him to keep me safe. And I did trust him. William would protect me no matter what, but I’d never felt more vulnerable. I didn’t like feeling weak. I wanted us to be on more equal ground, which meant William had to yield to me sometimes. If he would let me take care of
him
and intuit his needs for once, maybe we’d both feel less like my life was spinning hopelessly out of control because of him. I was getting more and more turned on just thinking about it, and I prayed this was going to work.

I walked out of the closet with the can of whipped cream in my hand just as William strode into the master suite. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening when he saw me. “Whoa.” He stared and took me in. “Where have you been hiding that?”

I smiled. “I still have a few secrets.”

We stood silently for a moment, facing each other while William gave me a thorough head-to-toe perusal, pausing for a few extras seconds on my exposed breasts. His eyes traveled over every inch of me, and my nipples pulled tight as a warm heat built steadily between my legs.

I broke the silence first. “Take off your clothes,” I said in a husky voice that didn’t sound like mine. It was a direct order, and I watched as William’s eyes narrowed. But they didn’t turn icy blue. They stayed liquid grey. It was like I could see the inner battle going on in his head. Part of him definitely liked that I was calling the shots, but he was still debating whether or not to play along.

I sauntered a few steps toward him, allowing my stilettos to tap on the floor, then put my hands on my hips. We were close enough that I could smell a hint of cabernet on his breath as he exhaled.

“Clothes. Off,” I purred. “And William? Do it slowly. I want to watch.”

Our gazes met and held for what felt like five minutes but was probably more like twenty seconds. Giving up control was contrary to his every instinct. He
took
control. He didn’t give an inch. Finally, as I watched, he reached for the hem of his T-shirt and drew it up. It slid over his taut abdomen and the ridges of muscle under his strong pecs, revealing his thick, corded arms when he pulled it over his head and tossed it on the floor.

I was practically panting. I didn’t know if it was because he’d submitted to my request or because his body was so incredibly hot, but I was definitely turned on. I wanted to touch him, but I held back.

“Keep going,” I said, my voice breathy with need. His gaze met mine, and I knew he saw how aroused I was. Maybe that was why he kept playing along. He reached for the top button on his jeans, flicked it open, followed by the others, then slid the jeans over his hips. My breath caught in my throat. He wasn’t wearing any underwear.

His cock, already hard, sprang free. While he let the denim slide down his ripped thighs, I studied his jutting member. It was thick and veined, the head rounded. That ridge that often brought me so much pleasure when he teased me with it was smooth and silky. He kicked off the jeans. “You like what you see?”

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

His brows rose, and I held my breath. I’d never talked to him like that before. I half expected him to slam me up against the wall and make me pay for my insolence by pleasuring me until I couldn’t see straight. Instead, I saw his throat move as he swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. And he waited.

I let him wait. I knew the way anticipation could heighten pleasure. It was working for me, too. His cock grew more rigid and he clenched his hands open then closed.

Finally, I stepped over to him. His hands moved toward me, but I shook my head. “You touch me when I say. Spread your legs.”

He spread them, and I sank to my knees in front of him. I took my time, sliding my hands over his calves and his thighs, brushing my fingers over his tight ass. I moved to his front and cupped his balls, their heavy weight filling my hand, then leaned forward and slid my tongue over them. His breath came out in a whoosh, and he made a strangled sound of pleasure.

“Fuck, Catherine. You’re killing me here,” he groaned.

“No talking, remember,” I said, then I slid my wet tongue up the shaft of his cock. It twitched where I stroked it, and he had to brace himself when I circled the head.

I teased him with my tongue in the same way he often teased me. He was panting hard by the time I finally took him fully into my mouth. He made a strangled moan as I sucked long and hard. My hands began stroking him, running up and down the length of his shaft.

I slid his cock in and out of my mouth. I paused at the sensitive tip and circled it with my tongue. As I did so, I looked up. His eyes were so dark I could have lost myself in them, and I could see a muscle in his jaw clench. He was exerting tremendous control, but I knew he was very close to breaking.

I rose. “Get on the bed.” He hesitated, and I held my breath again. Even though I was making the rules, if William turned the tables on me, I wouldn’t be able to resist.

Finally, he moved to the bed and lay down. The other day one of my stockings had had a run, so I’d tossed it in the nightstand drawer and worn another pair. Now I opened the drawer, lifted the stocking out, and held it in my hands. Then I climbed onto the bed, climbed on top of William, and settled myself over his cock. I wanted him to feel the heat from my damp sex.

“Raise your arms,” I said. “Wrists together.”

“Catherine.” His eyes flashed a warning, but I wasn’t backing down now.

“Arms up, William.”

He didn’t move.

“Trust me,” I said, leaning forward and pressing my body against his, my hard nipples rubbing and chafing against his hot skin. “Let me show you I can take care of you. I know what you want, what you need. And no more talking.”

His jaw clenched with the strain of the internal struggle. I knew I was asking a lot of him, but I also knew this was exactly what he and I needed in this moment.

Finally, he raised his arms and I leaned over, brushing my breasts in his face, as I bound his wrists together. I cinched them tightly until he hissed in a breath. Unlike William’s huge four-poster bed at Casa di Rosabela, the bed in the penthouse’s master suite was a modern platform bed, so there were no posts to tie his wrists to. He wasn’t going to get loose, but he’d have to keep his arms above his head only because I told him to.

“Keep them raised. If you don’t, I’ll have to do something about that.”

I watched as he tried not to smile. He recognized my words. He’d threatened me with the exact same thing on Valentine’s Day, when he ordered me to keep my hands at my sides while he ravished me with his mouth on the living room couch.

“Now close your eyes.”

William took one last look at me, his eyes a shining molten grey, then lowered them closed, his thick dark lashes like inky smudges against his cheeks.

I looked down at the big, handsome man stilled under me. With his hands tied together and his chiseled arms stretched above his head, his sculpted naked body taut and waiting for my touch, he was 100% male perfection. And he was all mine.

Now it was time for some fun.

I reached and grabbed the can of Reddi-Wip from the nightstand, shaking it up as I pulled off the top. “This might be a little cold,” I warned.

“Catherine,” he started, twisting to the side a bit and pulling against his tied wrists.

“Trust me, William,” I cooed as I stilled him with my thighs.

I started by putting a dollop of whipped cream on my finger and tracing his lips with it. I bowed my head and gently licked his lips, lapping up the sweet cream with the soft point of my tongue. His mouth opened a little and I kissed him deeply, feeling him arch up beneath me as our tongues caressed. I pulled my mouth away and sprayed another cone of whipped cream on my finger, then pressed it against his lips. He opened and took my finger in my mouth and licked it clean. This was so fucking sexy. My little black thong was positively soaked with my arousal, and I was just getting started.

I decided to work my way down. I put whipped cream on William’s nipples and licked it off slowly, pebbling him into hard little points. I took my time exploring his body, putting little dollops of whipped cream on just about every inch of him, then licking it off and kissing where I’d licked. I licked and kissed places I’d never had much time to explore before—the inside of his elbow, his hip, the indention near his shoulder.

By the time I returned to his cock, he was groaning with need. I coated his hard member with one final topping of whipped cream then took him into my mouth, pulling him in so deep I thought I might gag. I could feel the whipped cream squeezing out of the sides of my mouth as his hips rose and he pushed deeper. I pulled back, breathless, and swallowed. “Trust me,” I said. “I’ll take care of you.”

I wiggled on top of him again, pushed my wet thong to the side, and took him slowly inside me. It tortured me as much as him. I was so swollen and wet, my body screaming for his. I let the head of his cock, only the head, slide in and out of me, through my folds and over my clit, and then back inside me. Inch by inch, I took more of him, rolling my hips from one side to the other. “You’re so hard,” I panted. “God, you feel good inside me.”

I took him in fully then, letting him stretch and fill me to the hilt. When he was buried deep, I moved my hips up and down, sliding his thick hardness into my tight sheath. I could feel him swelling, and I opened my eyes and shook my head.

“Don’t you dare come before me, William. I come first.”

“Then fucking come already.” It was the closest he would ever come to begging.

“Not yet.” I settled him deep inside me again then bent and positioned my hands on his shoulders. “Open your eyes.”

Our gazes locked, and I moved my hips slowly, feeling the stirrings of pleasure I had pushed down rising to the surface. I moved slowly now, my breathing harsh and rapid. William’s breathing matched mine and his gaze was hot and dark as he looked into my eyes. His fingers were clenched tightly as he kept his arms raised above his head. He was helpless to take his own pleasure and he was helpless to give me mine with anything but his cock. He was mine, and his pleasure mine to give. Our gazes crashed together again, and I slid that big cock along my sensitive walls again. I could feel myself tightening and quickening as I clutched him in an iron grip. Just before I came, he whispered, “I love you, Catherine. I love you.”

The world shattered around me as an orgasm slammed through me so hard it shook my whole body. William made a sound somewhere between ecstasy and pain, and I ground out, “Come. Come inside me.”

He tumbled over the edge, and I felt the hard gush of his semen deep within me as our gazes remained locked. As many times as we’d come together like this, I’d never felt so close to him, never felt as much a part of him as I did at that moment. We were one, and if we stood together, nothing would ever come between us.

* * *

T
he whipped cream had left a sticky sweet residue all over both of us and a long soak was definitely in order. William’s huge tub was filled to the rim with bubbles, and I was nestled between William’s legs, my head back on his shoulder. He stroked my arm absently and told me how Laird had kept him company in the study while he worked at home today. “But every hour, he’d check on you in the bedroom. He’s very protective.”

“He’s the best,” I said. Then I sat up. “William, I totally slept through the meeting you’d wanted to have with me this afternoon!”

“Yes, two o’clock came and went, and you didn’t even roll over.”

I laughed, and he bent forward and kissed my temple. “I was even planning on wearing a skirt,” I said, “since your big windows offer such a...stimulating view of downtown.”

He shifted slightly, and I smiled. He was remembering the exact same thing I was remembering—the hot sex we’d had in his office the first time I’d gone there. He’d pushed me up against the windows, raised my skirt, and fucked me standing up for all of Chicago to see. It had been seriously hot.

“Definitely wear a skirt for our next meeting,” he murmured against my neck.

“I will. What did you want to meet about today?”

“I want to hire you.”

“What is this,
Pretty Woman
? Know that I cost way more than three grand.”

“Sorry to ruin your Julia Roberts fantasy, but I’m serious. I’d like to hire you. We’re rolling out a national ad campaign for WML Champagne. I’d like you to shoot the images.”

I sat straighter. I was paying attention now.

“We have several very specific shots in mind, and you’re absolutely the right photographer for the job. I have an offer written up to present to you.”

I turned to look at him. “You don’t have to pay me.”

His brows slashed together. “I’d never ask you to work for me for free,” he practically growled. “My offer is generous but competitive for this kind of specialized work.”

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