Wherever It Leads(28)

“Fenton, I . . .” A buzzing sound rips through the room, startling me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to enjoy watching you enjoy this.”

I gasp as he rips my panties off in one tear before the vibrator touches my *, the sensation just what I’ve been needing. I rock back against it and he pulls it back, controlling the pressure. One hand presses against the small of my back, holding me still, and he swirls the wand against my opening.

“My God,” I moan, letting my head fall forward. I focus on every touch, every sound, trying to process all the stimuli I can gather. Every push of the toy seems exaggerated, every sound louder than it should. It’s overwhelming.

The vibrator dips barely into me. He then drags it up my slit, rubbing against my swollen bud.

“I’m dying right now.” My voice is shaky, my body beginning to tremble. “Fenton, I can’t. Please.”

“So beautiful.”

I can barely hear him over the buzzing. I can barely hear myself over the rush of blood pounding by ears. All I can process is how good the vibrations feel against my overstimulated body.

Dragging it down my sex again, he lets it slip away. I immediately feel the loss.

I suck in a breath as his mouth cups my clit. It’s warm, wet, the direct pressure of his tongue against me more than I can take. “Fuck,” I hiss, the feeling more intimate, more intense than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.

My body starts to shake. I rock back against his face. One hand cups one of my breasts, the other palms me right above my ass. His thumb is right above my anus, the pressure only adding to the chaos rioting inside me.

“Fenton!” I feel it build, feel my body ride the wave to the top. He licks, his tongue pressed hard against me. He drags it from my clit to my opening and lets it dip inside. A finger is working my clit, his tongue working my opening, and all I can do is rock against him and eat up every shred of pleasure he elicits from me.

It builds and builds with every flick of his tongue. He assaults and massages me, works me into a frenzy, and before I know it, before I can brace for it, I hit the top and explode. “I’m coming!”

I squeeze my eyes shut, even though I can’t see, and feel my entire body shudder with more force than I’ve ever felt. Every muscle clenches, my body shaking violently as he continues to strum me like an instrument.

“Fenton! Oh my God!”

“You feeling that, rudo?” he purrs from behind me. His fingers continue to rub against me, bringing me gently back to the present.

My arms start to buckle. I can’t feel them or my legs. I reach for the blindfold, but feel too wobbly to risk it. Instead, Fenton wraps an arm around my middle and lifts me up and into his arms. A part of me wants to leave the blindfold on, to not look him in the face, but I have to. I have to see what he’s thinking.

He’s watching me with a reverent look etched on his handsome features. The light shadows his face, but his eyes are crystal clear. He stands in the middle of the room, holding me in his arms as I try not to fall into a pit of pesky feelings.

The air, still heated from the moment, crackles between us. His touch feels different now. He feels it too. His hands squeeze me gently, his eyes softening as I catch my breath.

“Did that feel okay?” he asks.

I think he’s kidding because of course it felt okay. It felt amazing. But, for once, there’s no smirk, no sign of his amusement.

“You know damn good and well that was more than okay,” I laugh. “But I’m assuming it’s not over?”

He narrows his eyes, like he’s searching mine. Eventually, after a long moment, the corners of his lips turn up. He doesn’t respond, just carries me through a doorway, through the master bedroom, and into the ensuite. He flicks the light on and places me on my feet.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says. “If you need me, I’ll be in the guest bathroom.”

And then he’s gone.





My cheeks are flushed and my lips swollen. Otherwise, I look pretty much normal after a quick shower. But internally? I am a hot freaking mess.

On one hand, I’m in a state of bliss. To have a man’s attention, to be treated like some kind of goddess, is more than I ever imagined. But on the other hand, I have no idea why he stopped when he did. He got nothing out of that and that bothers me. Typically, guys are more interested in what they get out of it than anything, and I have no baseline to compare this against.

Did I do something wrong? Did he lose interest?

I don’t even want to go face him, but this room opens directly into the master. I don’t have another way around him.

I give myself a final glance in the mirror. The pale pink gown hits just barely below my ass and dips dangerously low into a V in the front. Edie insisted I get it. Presley suggested wearing it with heels, but now’s not the time for that. I’d fall on my face for sure considering my legs still feel like gelatin.

With a deep breath, I swing open the door. A soft light glows from the top of a bureau on the far side of the room. This bedroom is expansive, bigger than the living room in my house. The furnishings are a dark wood, offset by white walls and linens. A king-sized bed faces me. Crimson sheets and blankets drape the mattress and Fenton is stretched out, looking at his phone. His strong arms, the ones that were wrapped around me only minutes before, flex in the light as he moves one to grasp the headboard above his head.