Page 12 of Never Say Never

“Ooookay,” he said, untying it while trying not to touch it. “Ixnay on the mom scarf.” He pilfered the pile. “This one okay?”

“Ferragamo,” she supplied, nodding.

He tied her remaining ankle. He knelt between her legs. “How was your day?” he asked, courteous as always.

Jasmine blinked. Her day had effectively been erased. Nicholas Harvey was between her spread thighs, naked and aroused. What day? “Fine,” she said. “Good. How was yours?”

“Tell you later,” he said, leaning in to lick her belly button.

Oh, Nick, she thought. You slay me. You really do. He had a habit of doing things to her that she was wanting to do to him. Not two days before she’d been at the bus stop watching the clouds scud past, thinking, I’d like to put my tongue in Nick’s belly button. For no reason. Just because he was hers and she could. He might like it or he might not, but he would let her. Once they had a spat. A tiny little one. He had ruffled the hair the wrong way on a dog’s face and she had snagged his chin in her fingers and said, “How would you like it if someone messed with your facial hair?” He didn’t miss a beat. He was a lot quicker than he seemed at first glance. He said, “That depends on who’s doing it.” That meant, if you’re doing it, it’s okay. So he could tie her up. He could do anything he wanted to her.

He licked down her belly, then up to her bra. He put his hands on her and ran them over her limbs, out to the ends of her fingers and toes and back. His palms were broad and warm, lightly calloused. He hummed to himself from the sheer pleasure of touching her and she thought, How can I not love you?

He stretched himself out full length on top of her and it was achingly odd not to be able to wrap her arms and legs around him. He sucked on her earlobes. He bit her neck strongly enough to leave a mark. He slipped his fingers under the lacy elastic of her panties. “Like high school,” he murmured. “I’ll make you come like this.”

She wanted him to kiss her, put his tongue in her mouth, put his cock inside her. “I wasn’t doing this in high school,” she muttered. He slid down to her breasts, sucking on her nipples through the gauzy fabric of her bra. Now, of course, she wished she had taken it off. He kept going, down to her pussy, and licked her clit through the thin material, making it wet. It wasn’t enough. She pushed against his mouth. “Nicholas,” she said. “Please.”

“How?” he asked innocently. “I’m not untying you until we’re done.”

“I don’t care!” she exclaimed, twitchy and sweating. “Just get them off.”

He helped himself to the scissors in the chipped mug on her desk. He snipped her pricey lingerie carefully into pieces, kissing the flesh he exposed. He wouldn’t buy her new ones. Just the thought of going into a place that would have them would make him queasy. He would be all in favor of her buying herself new ones, though. He liked her in lingerie.

He licked her nipples, barely pausing for breath. He was more serious now, harder to dissuade from his goal. People made a mistake when they assumed he was easygoing. He was stubborn, with a tough streak. He never babied her, but there was no meanness in him. She relished that. She had a few sharp edges of her own to watch. Put a person like her with someone too soft and it only resulted in hurt. The two of them were a match. They could grind away on each other without fear of inflicting harm.

She was wet, so wet, and her fingers flexed and her wrists turned in the silk bonds. She would have put her own hand between her legs long before now. “Nicholas,” she began, but he kissed her, filling her mouth with his tongue, and she kissed him back, making noises deep in her throat because that kiss was everything she could not do with her hands. As soon as he let her speak she said, “No,” as if she was the one running things. “I want you to fuck me.”

He gave her a sly smile. “No,” he said. “I want to eat your pussy.” He put his face between her legs, separating her labia with his thumbs and exposing her clit. He liked looking at her. He loved doing this. It was one thing she never felt guilty about. He could eat her for half the night, rest, and want more. Sometimes she sat at her desk when she should have been working, wondering what a woman did without a man like him. He put his tongue into every crevice of her. He loved the way she tasted, the way she smelled. If he couldn’t put his mouth on her often enough, he got cranky.

The extraordinary thing about him was that he knew she didn’t come the same way every time. Sometimes it was quick little flicks of his tongue that did it. Sometimes the top of her clit was too sensitive and he knew to lick along the sides until she convulsed. And now, oh god, now he was figuring out that broad, flat strokes of his tongue with the same even pressure, over and over again, were going to make her fall to pieces.

She jerked against the scarves, cinching them tighter, all her muscles tensing, arching her up to his mouth. He held her down, his strong hands clenching around her thighs, holding her open to him, licking and licking until she couldn’t hold herself back anymore and went over the edge. Nick didn’t wait for her to recover. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, reaching to untie one of the scarves.

“Mmm,” she agreed happily. The knot stuck. He reached for the scissors and Jasmine tried to sit up and help at the same time, laughing breathlessly. “No!” she pleaded. “Not the Pucci!”

“Christ, Jasmine.” His voice was unsteady. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“They don’t make them anymore,” she said, trying to avoid the scissors. “You can’t buy them.” He had mercy on the Pucci and switched to the other side, so it was the Fendi that bought the farm. Then there was a brief tussle while she tried to untie the Gucci before he got to it with the scissors. She gave in with a wet kiss to his face; he snipped it in two, pulled her over him and shoved his cock inside her while the last scarf still held one ankle to the bedpost. She gasped as he pushed high inside her, but she felt only pleasure. Whatever it was, with this man it felt right.

She wrapped her arms around him, glad to be tied and glad to be free. He thrust into her again and again, building toward his own orgasm, the hot, sliding friction of their bodies making him pant. Jasmine pushed her face into his neck, licking at his sweat, wanting only to be closer, closer to this man. “How was your day?” she asked him.

“You showed up,” he said, voice guttural, so close to coming he could barely speak. “So it was good.”

CHAPTER FOUR

OPEN WIDE—

FELLATIO

A man might forget where he parks or where he lives, but he never forgets oral sex.

—BARBARA BUSH

What’s that thing people say about men and oral sex? Oh, yeah. They like it. In fact, one of my friends once asked a beau his favorite part about a woman going down on him. His response? “When she puts my cock in her mouth.” Simple pleasures, right?

The act of being oral with a partner is so personal, so divinely connecting, that whole books have been dedicated to the subject—The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio by Violet Blue comes to mouth—and mind. So why not dedicate a night, or a week, or a year, or your whole life to getting to know what your partner truly craves? I think you can do better than parting your lips.

Start by simply savoring the concept, as my heroine does in “Connecting”:

Source: www.allfreenovel.com