She looked to him with a smile. “How did you know I love bread pudding?” It was her favorite, in fact.
With a smirk, he responded, “Lucky guess, I suppose. Please eat, or perhaps you want to open the gift bag first?” She thought for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “Well then,” and handing the gift bag to her, “gift first.” The smirk rose to his expression as he stood back to watch.
The bag was black and the tissue was a dark gray, and when she pulled the tissue out, she gasped. It was clear, with a swirled pattern of raised and molded glass. It looked more sculpture than phallic, but the purpose was clear. The head was bulbous, and it was less impressive than what was attached to Truman, but her skin flushed and burned with sudden excitement and desire regardless.
“Seems a bit … unnecessary … what with your … penis and all…” Duh, but there it was—her mouth doing its job.
He chuckled at her words, but responded nonetheless. “I should have mentioned these were for my pleasure too.”
“You mean, you want me to put this in your…”
“No! Unless you really want to and then we’ll have that conversation.” He was chuckling again. “I want to watch you fuck yourself with it.” His words were well controlled as he watched her reaction.
Returning to the bag, she pulled out a black eye mask that tied in the back with a ribbon, and four long lengths of black fabric. The picture was coming together as her heart rate sped, and as he touched the phallic length of glass, wetness spread between her legs, and he let his breath out in a rush before he inhaled deeply. “And I don’t just want to watch you fuck yourself… I want to fuck you with it as well while you’re tied to the bed and blindfolded.” If she was wet before, she was dripping at this point. “Please eat.”
She sat at the plate, but all interest in the dessert was lost. She picked at it and watched as he touched the phallic glass and toyed with her, not literally, while she struggled to swallow. When she gave up halfway through and offered him the rest, he politely declined and held his hand out. He wasn’t wasting any time, and as she took his hand, he pulled her away to the stairs that led to the second story.
As they reached the stairs, she stepped up the first step, and he stopped her, turning her to face him. “You don’t need to be nervous. You have to know I won’t hurt you, and whatever I do to your body, it is only to give you pleasure. I promise you.” And then he passed her and pulled her along behind him.
Her feet hit one stair after another as she ascended, and with every footfall, her heart pounded, and she gasped for breath. He was walking in front of her, holding her hand tightly, and as much as she trusted his words, though she couldn’t figure out exactly why, she was terrified—so much more terrified than she could likely bear.
She was nervous. There was no doubt about that. And as much as he wanted to play with her body and watch her pleasure herself, he didn’t want to leave her fearful of him, not him. He’d watched her for long enough to know the experiences of her life hadn’t left her unscathed. She didn’t trust men. He was the only exception he could see in her past, and he wouldn’t lose that. Ironically, he likely had her long-buried memories to thank for her ease at trusting him, even if it was on a purely subconscious level. And Truman had no problem accepting the responsibility of her trust. It was likely why he was so damn terrified as they ascended the stairs.
He’d spent their time in the kitchen doing anything and everything to arouse her without really touching her. He’d toyed with the toy for her benefit alone; he’d touched the gauzy black strips of fabric, running them slowly through his hands. She watched every last move he’d made, and when he’d offered her his hand, she’d taken it, and his heart soared. But he could hear her heart pounding, and he could smell as much fear as he could arousal.
When they entered his bedroom, she paused. It was an impressive room by anyone’s account. The back wall of the room was lined with tall windows and French doors that opened to a deck overlooking the bay. During the day, it was a stunning view; at night, it was absolutely amazing. It was one of the reasons he bought this particular house four years ago, and one of his most favorite fantasies was finally coming true—Ember in his bedroom.
She needed his strength, and however fearful and nervous she might be, she did not need to see his worry. So he stifled his desire to clutch her up in his arms and led her further into his plan for the night. When she stopped in front of the windows that overlooked the bay, he touched her lightly on the shoulder. Kneeling behind her body, he lifted the skirt of her dress to her waist and kissed. He kissed the round cheeks of her bottom as he slowly lowered her underwear down her thighs. She rested her palms on the cool window, and her head sank to the glass as he kissed and licked and sucked along her cheeks. He wanted to delve further, but he simply wasn’t willing to push her that far, so he rubbed and gripped her skin as she breathed against the window. His jaw was already aching, and his cock was stiff and hard in his trousers. He already wanted to fuck her, and he wasn’t nearly done with her body and ready for that yet. This really did promise to be torturous to them both.
When Truman rose to stand behind her body again, he reached for her neck and caressed and rubbed. Her head was still dropped to the window, and he soothed her want and need with his cool touch to the nape of her neck. Soon his mouth replaced his hand, and he licked a light trail along her skin. He could hear her heart thudding away in her nervous excitement, and as he listened and his tongue worked, her chemistry changed, and for the first time, her scent was more arousal than fear. He smiled against her skin as he continued to soothe and entice her. He lowered the zipper of her dress and let it fall to the floor around her ankles, and as he kneeled again, slowly trailing his mouth along her body as he went, it was to slip her sandals from her feet and leave her completely naked in front of him.
As he stood again, he pushed his groin, which was hard and desperate in his own need, against her lower back, and she moaned a quiet and completely inadvertent moan of pleasure at the feel of his body. She turned to him and undressed him too. First the buttons of his shirt, and when she reached his waist, she undid the button and lowered the zipper of his trousers. She was watching his eyes, and there was as much seduction in her movements as there was in his. She was enjoying herself, nerves and all, and he relaxed measurably at her want and obvious arousal.
As she parted the opening of his pants, she pushed them down his hips and dropped them to the floor. He shrugged out of his shirt as he continued to study her, and he smiled warmly. He wanted her at ease with him—he needed her trust as much as he needed her. And when she pushed his boxer briefs down his hips as well and as his cock jutted up between them, she inhaled sharply. His arousal was high between their bodies, and when she grasped his shaft with her fingers, his head dropped back to the window behind him, and he drank up her touch.
Her touch caused a frenzy in his body that left his jaw pulsing and his cock begging for her. As he gently pulled her hand from his shaft, it was only so he could keep himself from pouncing on her before he was ready. His own hand trailed down to her sex, and when he found her newly sculpted pubic region, he smiled. “Is this for me?” She nodded shyly as he touched and stroked the remaining hair and the smooth skin left from her waxing. “You’re stunning regardless, but thank you. I appreciate the thought.” He held her eyes with his own smoldering, heated expression.