Burn (Songs of Submission #5)(34)

He stopped.

“Go on,” I said, a little excitement building between my legs.

“Right now, you agree never turn your back on me again unless I cheat on you or hurt you.”

“And?”

“When this ice cube melts, the no touch rule is rescinded.”

I cleared my throat and looked down. My hands were at my sides, fingers twitching as if I was playing a stringed instrument. “Jonathan.”

“Monica.”

“I can’t imagine a situation where I’d turn my back on you again. At least, not for us being who we are. I won’t deny it again. I won’t pretend it’s anything but what it is or that I’m not submissive to you sexually. If you f**k or even kiss someone else, we’re through. And if you hurt me or if you’re careless with me, I really will walk.” I softened my tone and leaned towards him. “Barring that, I’m yours. You own me. You always have.”

He stepped into my side of the doorway. He was so close. All I had to do was lean forward, and he’d have to catch me to keep me from falling.

“Here’s how it’s going to go then, Monica. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“When this ice cube melts, I’m going to make love to you so slow, everyone in this hotel is going to know my name. It won’t be play. It’s going to be dead serious.”

“Okay.” I peered into his glass. That ice cube looked huge.

“Then it’s playtime.” As he’d done on our first night, he took his glass and pressed the coldest bottom part to my nipple. He didn’t touch me, only the glass did. I hardened through the dress, parting my lips so the ah could come out. “I’m going to tie you down and take every part of your body until I’m satisfied. It will hurt, goddess, and you will beg for more.”

“Promise?”

“You’re not scared?”

“Actually, I’m kind of really turned on.”

He drank the rest of the whiskey and lodged the ice cube in his mouth. He put down the glass and leaned toward me. The ice touched my lips, and he dragged it across them, dripping cold water down my chin. I opened my mouth and took the cube, but he didn’t let go. Both of our mouths were lodged on that cube, me at six and one and him at five and two. A low groan escaped my throat. I ran my tongue along the bottom of the ice, trying to get it to melt faster. His face was so near, and the cube so cold and big between us, I felt both the closeness and distance acutely.

He yanked his jacket off, taking me with him. I grunted but didn’t let go. He undid his cufflinks, tossed them aside, and went for his shirt buttons. I saw the laughter and pleasure in his eyes as I tried to twist my head to watch, but couldn’t.

I undid the clasp behind my neck that would release the halter. The bodice dropped, and it was his turn to groan and try to twist his head. My turn to laugh around that god damn hateful ice cube. I unzipped the side of the skirt as he shrugged off his shirt, the yanking pulled our mouths in different directions. Our muffled laughter was a symphony.

Cold water dripped down our chins, and we sucked on that cube, willing it gone. The dress dropped to the carpet, revealing the white lace and satin garter with the big gold rings. He gasped and said something that sounded like it could have been “oh my God.” He held his hands over my hips, as if he wanted to caress me, but the ice cube still existed. It was shrinking, but the no touch rule kept him inches above my skin.

His belt clanked when he undid it. His zipper buzzed. He held his head so I couldn’t look down, and the cold, amused look in his eyes told me how much he enjoyed my frustration. Bastard. He leaned down to pull off his pants, and I bent with him.

He was naked. I was in garter and heels. The ice cube was half its original size. He pushed forward, still not touching me, until I got the hint and walked backward, connected to him at the mouth. Step by backward step, through the living area and into the bedroom. I backed up to the bed, and he dropped on top of me, hands on the mattress on either side of my head. The ice cube was down to a sliver, and he slid his tongue into my mouth. I gasped, finally feeling a piece of him against a piece of me, even if the ice made him cold. I’d take it. Anything. My skin was hungry for his touch.

I don’t know when the ice actually disappeared down my throat, but his mouth on mine became more of a real kiss, more a dance of breaths and movements. I dared to touch his chest. When he didn’t pull away, I groaned into his mouth. His skin against my hands, the bumps of his ni**les. The ribs at his sides. The hardness of his hips. The line of hair on his belly.

Before I could get my hand between his legs, he shifted down and took my nipple in his mouth, sucking it between his teeth and sending pulsing shivers down my body. I wove my fingers in his hair, pulling him to me.

“Oh, God, Jonathan. Take me. Please.”

“Not yet.” He moved to the other breast. “Slow. We’ve waited too long to rush.” He slipped a finger under the garter belt, backing away to look at it. “And what you’re wearing. It’s magnificent.”

He leaned back and drew both hands down my thighs over the belts and straps, pressing my legs apart with a gentle push. I opened for him, showing him how wet and ready I was. He kissed between my thighs. Licked. Sucked. I tried to push his head to the center, but he worked the other thigh until I was a pulsing, undulating mess. He looked up at me, pausing, his mouth hidden behind my sex.