Dark Notes(91)

“Yes.” My breath hiccups. “I’m so sorry.”

“Never apologize for using your word.” He kisses my mouth and eases back to look into my eyes. “Everyone has limits.”

I jerk my head. “You? What are they?”

He lowers, squatting between my legs and glides his hands down my neck. “Defecation.”

“Defe—what?”

“Scat. Feces. That’s a big fat no.”

“Oh my God, people do that?”

“Yes.” He fights a twitchy smile and wins, flattening his lips. “And bestiality. Also my limit.”

My throat convulses. “How does your mind even go there?”

“You have to ask?”

I grin. He’s a perverted, kinky man, and damn if I don’t love that about him. “Good to know you won’t be taking advantage of poor Schubert.”

He makes a disgusted face. “That was your mind going there.”

“You started it.”

He molds his hands around my waist, his thumbs tracing my hipbones. “No sharing. Ever. You’re mine. I’m yours. That is my hardest limit.”

“You’d rather I shit on you than have sex with someone else?”

“Yes.” His gaze flies to mine, the hardening blue depths cemented with a biting tone. “If another man so much as touches you, my reaction will be murderous. Remember that.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

He rises to his feet, his fingers making a descent down the front of his waistcoat, slowly releasing each button as his eyes rake over my body. “Touch yourself.”

Parting my legs, I slide a hand between my thighs. His vest drops to the floor, and my nipples tighten against the sudden flutter of excitement.

He removes the tie and unbuttons the shirt in the same unhurried fashion, seemingly content with his view of me. His head tips minutely, lips parting as his gaze follows the roll of my fingers against my clit.

I stroke softly, watching him watch me, my pulse slurring a smooth legato rhythm through my veins.

He shrugs out of the shirt sleeves, exposing curved biceps and defined pecs and abs. Then he crouches to remove his shoes and socks, never looking away. “Lie back. Widen your legs.”

I scoot toward the center, lying sideways on the mattress, and swirl my fingers over my wet folds. The sensitivity of my touch and his uninterrupted attention on me fuels a blazing fire in my core. I’m so attuned to him, to the harmony of his breaths and the subtle twitches in his hands. It comes from a habit of sexual enjoyment of his presence, and it’s solidified in the knowledge that he will never let me down.

With an economy of movement, he loosens the belt, opens his slacks, and shoves the last of his clothes to the floor. I’ve seen his rock-strong body parts in bits and pieces, but never all of him at once, fully in the buff. Sweet heaven, he gives new meaning to buff.

His cock rises up, jutting above the columns of his powerful thighs. He doesn’t touch it, doesn’t even acknowledge it as he approaches, eyes locked on mine and expression intense.

He grips my ankle and circles the mattress, dragging my legs and rotating my position until my head is near the headboard. He stops with my feet at the foot of the bed and leans forward.

The indentation of his knee on the mattress jump-starts my heart. The predatory look in his eyes stops my breath. He crawls over me, legs on the outsides of mine, prowling on hands and knees and straddling my thighs.

I expected him to wrench my legs open and shove between them, but he’s proved repeatedly he’s not like the others.

Hovering over me, he fuses his mouth to mine while his hand roves my body, stroking and fondling my chest, thighs, and *. His feverish tongue, heavy exhales, and devilish touches drive me breathlessly insane.

I tug at his shoulder, attempting to bring him closer. “Will you…lie on top of me? Let me feel your weight?”

He’s pinned me against a wall, tied me to a piano, and fingered me against the kitchen island, but I’ve never been in this position with him. No matter how many times I’ve imagined it, I know it’ll be unlike anything I’ve experienced.

With my thighs squeezed together between his, he cups the back of my head in both hands and lowers his long frame on top of me. His eyes search my face as his weight sinks me into the mattress, his chest covering mine in heat and muscle.

My mouth falls open on a blissful gasp, and he catches it, his tongue sliding and claiming, his lips firm, aggressive, and all mine. The bulky size of him smothers me in security, his strength a shield of protection, and his hands supporting my head as if in supplication.

We kiss through an endless sonata of heartbeats and moans, our foreheads rolling together and hips grinding greedily. Our bodies rock in a synchronized wave, trapping the steely length of him between us.

I’m scared out of my ever-loving mind thinking about his wide girth being rammed up inside of me. But I’m ready. I’ve never been so ready for this.

I flex my quads, trying to open my thighs. Why hasn’t he spread my legs already?

“Don’t test me, Ivory.” He reaches between us and rubs his fingers along the slippery seam of my *. “Where my head’s at right now, I’ll split you in half.”

In the next breath, he flips us, rolling me on top and folding my legs to straddle his hips.