Puppet Master

Chapter Seven

In a ridiculously unexpected turn of events, the first thing Tori saw when her eyes started to focus on the world outside again after her momentary blindness was Jayden, lifting his fingers to his mouth, and flicking his tongue across the pads. “Mmm,” he closed his eyes to savour the taste, and lengthen the syllable, “You taste every bit as delicious as I thought you would. Try”

He actually put his fingers to her lips, she pulled back her head. “It’s hardly a steak dinner, Jayden, I’m not ...”

Just one little look, with a twist to his lips - and the words “teach you a lesson” echoing, quite tantalisingly, in her ears - and his fingers were back at her lips. Reluctantly, she flicked out her tongue, and then, showing a bit of initiative, she took the two offerings into her mouth, suckling at them like she’d read about in a romantic novel she read once upon a time, and she loved the hitch in his breath that came with his surprise. The delight completely outweighed the grossness.  

  “That’s my good girl. Mmm, I can taste you on your lips,” he was licking around the edges of her mouth, it was hardly surprising, “If the city down there, had looked up, they would have seen the most delicious view of your back arching, your delectable ass, your head thrown back on your shoulders, as I gave you your very first orgasm,” fire rushed through her cheeks in a blush, oh fuck, how had she forgotten the window behind her? “But they won’t be seeing me take you.”

Tugging at her hand, to slip the aforementioned ass off the edge of her antique desk (she smacked her lips together, thinking of the polish she would need in the morning, she stifled a giggle - just), he ran his lips over her eyelids and murmured, “At least, not the first time.”

She actually squeaked with surprise, but he was already leading to her bedroom at the end of the lounge. How did he know his way around her flat?

The mystery was soon eclipsed though, did it really matter? When the object of her every fantasy had turned to face her, her pale lilac bedding rubbing against  the backs of his knees, in his faded jeans, and the neckline of his stark white t shirt giving a glimpse of brushed bronze, sprinkled with a masculine dust of dark hairs at the top of his chest. Fuck, he was so hot.

Her palms scraped along the rasp of stubble at his jaw, loving the friction against her skin, friction she’d felt between her thighs, moments earlier. Would those blushes ever disappear, she thought irritated, he could probably see straight through her!

“Undress me Vittoria.”

Her breath caught between her lips, she had no idea, where to start, and how to do this, seductively, like all the women before her surely had. She swallowed a shifting threat of jealousy at the thought that teetered at the edge of her mind. Could she?

“Go on baby,” he tugged her hand to the bottom of his t shirt, “You can.”

Idly she wondered if maybe he had a sixth sense, or seventh, if you counted all that ... demand. Phew! She began to pull up the fabric, too enthralled to keep her eyes from all of the skin that was emerging from beneath it, all of the sculpted muscle that spread across his chest, that she need to stand on tiptoes to reach. She was caught in the throes of her own amazement, this was Jayden, and she got to touch him, and he was touching her, and she still couldn’t quite remember how they’d gotten to her personal tranquil space, how they’d ended up on the desk, how he was even here. None of it mattered, she knew, but still, each moment that had led to this one played through her memories, reconciling fantasy to reality when she was running her delicate hands over the wall of power that stood so still before her.