Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(41)

He bent down, and began the torture all over again. He’d said I could come, but he hadn’t said when, and he left me wanting for long minutes that felt like hours.

The first ice had melted, with new cubes replacing it, before he finally sucked me into a climax so hard that I sobbed out his name at the end, tears running down my cheeks.

He tried to hold me afterwards, and I turned away, trying to roll out of his reach. But my bed wasn’t that big, and he was determined. He swatted my butt for the effort.

“Don’t turn away from me,” he said in a hard voice, pulling my back against him.

I tried to fall asleep, but he began to touch me again, kneading my br**sts until I was arching my back, brushing my backside against his stiff length.

“You can take me there,” I told him, brushing my backside against him again. I hated that he was denying himself, whatever the reason.

He purred against me. “No release for me, not tonight. I keep pushing you too hard, even though you’re injured and unaccustomed to this. I need a torturous night to reflect on my sins. Keep teasing me. I deserve it.”

I stopped rubbing my butt against him, not willing to help him in that regard. He bit my neck, one hand snaking down to stroke my sex. “You don’t want me to suffer, Love? You don’t agree with the punishment I’ve chosen for myself?”

“No,” I said on a gasp.

He plunged his large fingers into me, starting up an exquisite rhythm.

“I want to bring you pleasure, not punishment,” I told him.

He grunted. “Well, it’s not up to you, is it?” he asked, his fingers quickening, bringing me to orgasm quickly this time, a stark contrast to what he’d done to me the first time.

He kept his fingers inside of me, a hand gripping my breast, and his stiff erection still pressed firmly against my butt.

“Go to sleep, love,” he whispered harshly in my ear.

I was so exhausted that I actually did.

James woke me in the morning in much the way he’d put me to bed, his hand stroking me, his other kneading at my breast. He was sucking on that perfect spot on my neck, his rigid c**k grinding against my butt in rhythm to his fingers.

“Are you awake?” he asked into my ear.

“Yes. Please, I need you inside me. Please don’t deprive yourself again.” I arched my back as I spoke.

He shifted me onto my back, but stayed on his side. He dragged me around until my wet entrance was pointed at his stiff member, throwing my legs over his hip. My head was nearly hanging off the side of the bed.

One of his arms was used to prop him up, but his other hand was free to roam over my body. He lingered on my br**sts, plucking at my ni**les.

“I’m going to have special rings designed for these,” he said, and rammed into me.

I didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant. I was too busy gasping as he began a jolting rhythm, still pulling on my br**sts.

“I’ll make them match your collar and your earrings. I want you dripping in diamonds. I’ll decorate all of your chains with them. Before I’m done with you, every part of your body will be stamped with my ownership.”

My hands fisted in the sheets. It was all I could reach in this position. I used my legs to move with his thrusts, and he groaned in approval.

He had us both coming in swift moments, impatient from his night of torture.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” I asked him as we lay panting, spent.

“A little. Though every time I drifted off, I woke up trying to violate you in your sleep. I need to rethink that punishment, I think.”

I shifted until I could kiss him. It was a long, sweet kiss. He was surprisingly passive for it, as if he was curious to see what I would do.

I pulled back, touching his cheek. I knew my tenderness showed in my eyes. “Get a little more sleep. Please? At least rest while I go try to scrounge up breakfast.”

He must have been exhausted, because he nodded, closing his eyes. He didn’t open them as he raised my hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

I rose, pulling a sheet over him, and impulsively kissing his forehead before throwing on my tiny, nearly transparent shift. I grabbed a thong from my drawer full of the lacy things, even knowing I would be changing again soon, since I needed to shower after breakfast.

I padded into the kitchen, getting out anything I could find that went well with eggs. I cursed when I heard the loud sound of the garbage truck driving down my little street. I had already forgotten to put out my trash can the week before. I really needed to get it out to the curb before the truck passed my house.

I wouldn’t normally go out front in my tiny slip of a nightgown, but I didn’t have a spare moment to change.

Besides, I’ll be quick. I told myself. I just needed to drag my one full garbage can out of the garage and onto the curb, then dart back in. And this was Vegas. See-through clothing was hardly unheard of, even in public.

I moved into the garage, punching the button to open my garage door. I was already dragging the can underneath the door when it was only halfway up. I was relieved to see that the garbage truck was a few houses away. I had made it in time.

I didn’t notice the strange man blatantly photographing me until I was at the curb, lining up my garbage can.

I saw him, and just froze while he took shot after shot of me.

I wasn’t galvanized into action until he looked up from the large camera, leering at me. “Thank you, Ms. Karlsson. Looking hot this morning.”