The Strength of the Pack (Suncoast Society #30)(33)

Chapter Thirteen


Nate buckled a soft leather blindfold over her eyes. He left her standing there for a moment before she heard him return. He stroked his fingers up her arms, sending tendrils of electricity flowing through her skin, straight to her clit, which in turn translated it into desperate need.

Part of her wanted to blurt out the whole dark, ugly truth to him so they could move on to intercourse, but then she realized exactly why he wanted to wait and take things slow.

He would slake her need, no doubt about it. But he knew he had to earn her trust.

She loved him already. Deeply. Maybe even madly. Certainly passionately.

All the more reason to take it slowly.

He said he only wanted to be married once.

She only wanted to be divorced once. While she no longer held it against Leo, it wasn’t a pain she wanted to revisit.

He moved to stand behind her, his arms around her, holding her pressed against his body. Without removing her clothes he slowly explored her, caressing her, his lips nibbling at the side of her neck, under her ear. He cupped his hands over her breasts, through her shirt and bra, his thumbs brushing against her nipples.

She ached to feel his flesh against hers.

“I know,” he whispered. “It’ll feel that much better later. I want to know all of you first. So when we’re together, I can see the way your clothes fit you and know exactly what lies beneath them.”

She didn’t need to see to know he was doing Reiki on her. She’d never been a believer in stuff like that…before Nate. Maybe it was just how keyed-in to him she was, but she’d swear she felt energy flowing between them everywhere his hands paused.

Her panties certainly would be a sodden mess by the time they got that far. She knew she was wet already. That was not an uncommon occurrence for her when she spent alone time with him. Just being with him turned her on.

Down her hips, over her thighs, he dipped his knees, sliding his hands up her jeans and ass, stepping back to glide them up her back, across and down her shoulders. His hands came to rest on top of hers, fingers lacing through hers. Then he brought his arms up, crossed over her chest.

He nibbled on her right earlobe. “I also like to bite,” he whispered. “I leave my marks my way.”

She whimpered, shuddering at the thought, but for all the good reasons. She tipped her head even farther to the left, giving him better access.

He softly chucked and that sound nearly made her come. He nuzzled along her shirt, lips caressing her flesh, until she felt his teeth graze her skin.

He bit, gently at first, then harder, as if gauging her response. Harder still, until she let out a gasp, and still she didn’t stop him. Only when he’d drawn a soft cry of pain from her did he ease up just a little, waiting, not even sucking at her flesh.

Just…holding on.

He drew his arms more tightly around her and slowly increased the pressure of his teeth on her flesh again…and again…and again… Each time he eased up just before she was certain she’d need to safeword, only to repeat it.

Finally, he kissed the spot, licking it, before moving up her neck again.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “My beautiful, sweet girl. I promise I will only ever give you the good kinds of pain.”

She didn’t know how long they stood there, but he switched sides and repeated it on her left shoulder, back to her right, in a different spot, and the left again, until she was nearly sobbing from need. Her clit screamed, desperate, and he hadn’t even removed a stitch of his clothes or hers yet.

“Stay,” he whispered, then released her.

She wobbled on her legs a little without the comforting solidity of his body there to cradle her.

She heard him moving around, even leave the bedroom. Then came the sound of him out in another part of the house but she wasn’t sure where.

A few minutes later, he returned and stopped in front of her. She sensed him kneel in front of her, followed immediately by the feel of his hands on her feet. He tapped her right ankle, prompting her to lift her foot. He took her shoe off, and the other.

He stood and trailed his fingers up her arms, over her shirt, to the neckline where he started unbuttoning it.

If he was trying to torture her, he was doing a damn good job of it. It felt like forever before he had her shirt loose and was sliding it down her arms. Then her belt, the button on her jeans, leaving her standing there in her bra and panties.

Standing in front of her, he wrapped his arms around her again, hands splayed across her ass. His fingers drew electricity across her flesh, up her back, to her shoulders, and down her front, until his hands cupped her breasts through her bra. She realized at one point he was tracing her scars with his lips and fingers, too, as if committing them to memory.

And he was still dressed. She felt the material of his shirt, of his jeans brushing against her, although she suspected he was now barefoot since she hadn’t heard the sound of his shoes on the tile when he returned. He began exploring her body with his lips and fingers, tracing every curve and line, still making no move to remove her bra and panties.

Maybe he’d make her beg for more, she didn’t know. She was close to that point now.

Even unseen, the air between them felt alive, as if their souls were connected. A ball of energy seemed to engulf them, highlighted by where he touched her.

When he stood in front of her again and reached around her, it took every ounce of will within her not to grind her body against him. He deftly unhooked her bra strap and slowly slid it down her arms and off her. Then he hooked his fingers inside the waistband of her panties and slowly slid them down her legs, letting them puddle on the floor around her ankles before having her step out of them.