Tease Me Page 13

  I laughed, then lowered down to kiss her soft stomach, then kissed her mound.

  “This is it, Dallas. All of this.”

  “Oh. Really?” she said.

  She was still on her elbows, but her breath was coming out harder and faster, some parts of her body rigid while the others were soft and pliant.

  “Really,” I responded.

  I leaned forward and kissed her slit, then snaked my tongue out to slide her from top to bottom.

  She let out a deep sigh, one that was full of both passion and contentment.

  “Yeah. Did you think I was just going to stick it in, three pumps, and then you’re done?” I asked.

  I breathed in deep, inhaling her scent, and then circled her clit with my tongue.

  She moaned again, the sound deep, soulful, and spurring me on.

  But I didn’t give in to that instinct. I stayed where I was, my lips hovering against her clit, my breath coming out hard enough to move the hair that covered her soft mound.

  “Answer the question, Dallas,” I said.

  “What question?” she asked.

  “Is that what you expected?” I responded.

  “Well…” she said, her voice sounding dreamy. “I guess so.”

  I tsked, then swiped her clit with my tongue.

  “I’m disappointed. I would have expected more from you.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  She was breathing heavily now, her entire body racked with her deep breaths and her knuckles turning white at the edges with the tight grip she held on the sheets.

  “You know that’s not how I do things. I’m very, very thorough. I expected you would know that,” I said.

  “Oh,” she said.

  I chuckled, and she gave her own laugh, though it was distracted.

  “Yeah. You asked me to do this, and I wouldn’t be a very good host if I didn’t give you the full experience,” I said.

  “So then stop talking and give it to me,” she countered, sounding like the bossy Dallas I was used to.

  I laughed again, but soon went quiet. “As you wish,” I said.

  Without waiting another moment I leaned forward and buried my face in her pussy.

  I’d started out slow and tender, but now I unleashed, licking and sucking at her with the ferociousness that was coursing through my blood.

  And she was with me every step of the way, clawing at my shoulders when she wasn’t gripping the sheets.

  I loved to hear a lover’s pleasure, and Dallas didn’t let me down. With every lick, suck, and tug, I got a response from Dallas, a low moan, a sharp inhale, a plea for more.

  All of it was intoxicating, and I was harder than I had ever been, desperate to be inside her.

  But I kept going, focused on her clit, thrust my tongue in and out of her sex simulating what would soon come.

  Dallas was with me through it, her breath coming out and in until she froze, her entire body rigid.

  “Oh, God. Oh, Kristian,” she said, her hands wrapped tight around my neck as she clutched at me, looking for something to hold on to.

  “I’m here for you. I have you, Dallas,” I said.

  I gripped her hips tight, then flicked her clit with my thumb.

  I held her as she came apart, each tremble, each moan feeling like the most precious reward.

  As she came down I crawled up her body and held her through it, holding her until her breathing was even.

  “That was… I don’t have words,” she said when she could finally speak again.

  “Me either,” I said honestly.

  I didn’t, and that scared the shit out of me.

  It also made me happy, almost giddy, and that wasn’t something I was used to. I had gone into this determined to be detached, help Dallas and nothing more, but at the back of my mind I started to wonder if that was impossible.

  “What about you?” Dallas asked a moment later.

  She lay next to me, seeming completely comfortable with her nakedness, something that I counted as a major win.

  “What about me?” I said.

  “Well first,” she said, again lifting herself up on one elbow, “you’re wearing way too many clothes,” she said.

  “We can agree on that. What else?” I asked, my gaze locked with hers.

  She held my eyes for a moment and then began to slowly look down my body. Her perusal was leisurely but thorough, and I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me with an artist’s eye or lover’s eye. Maybe both. But whatever it was, her looking at me so intently was an amazing turn-on.

  “Even though you’re wearing far too many clothes, it’s impossible for me to miss that,” she said, nodding at the erection that threatened to burst out of my pants.

  “Pretty hard for me to ignore too,” I said.

  “Then don’t,” she responded, her voice husky.

  “As you wish,” I said.

  “I like this, you doing as I command,” she said.

  “You want to command me? What would you have me do?”

  “Right now, I want you to stop talking, take off your clothes, and finish what you started,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I responded.

  I stood and quickly pulled off my shoes and clothes and rejoined Dallas in bed.

  “You could have made a show of it,” she said as she lay next to me.

  “Maybe later. I have other more important things to do right now,” I said.

  I leaned toward Dallas, then fell back. “Oh shit!”

  “What?” she asked, her brows furrowed, her expression concerned.

  “I had paperwork for you, test results, but I left them at the doctor’s office. But I’m clean.”

  “I don’t need that, Kristian,” she said.

  “Look, Dallas, I know you trust me. But you need to get into the habit of finding this stuff out. You know, for later,” I said.

  The idea of even thinking of her with someone else, especially now, was one that made me nauseous and angry. But I wouldn’t let my own feelings allow Dallas to put herself in danger, though with me she never would be. Still, I wanted to set a precedent.

  “I trust you. And you have condoms,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Why haven’t you asked me about me?” she asked.

  “What’s there to ask?”

  “If I’m on the pill or anything like that,” she said.

  “I trust you,” I responded.

  “You’re trying to teach me a lesson that you’re not even following yourself,” she said.

  “Whatever. Where were we?” I asked.

  “You tell me?” she said.

  But instead of telling her anything I rolled her close to me and arranged her so that she was straddling me, my hardness nestled between her thighs.

  She was staring at me, seemingly enraptured.

  “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, her voice soft, far away.

  I wasn’t, but she was. Her body was a celebration of feminine fullness, her warmth, her weight, the center for all of it intoxicating.

  “Dallas, I’m ready,” I said.

  “Me too,” she responded.

  I reached for the condom and opened the packet. As I began to roll the latex down, Dallas put her hand on my wrist.

  “Can I?” she asked, her voice shaky, with nerves or with passion I wasn’t sure.

  I nodded and pulled my hand away.

  Dallas paused, not doing anything and then she began to slowly roll the latex down the length of my shaft.

  Each accidental brush of her fingers against my cock sent a reverberation of pleasure through my body.

  By the time she was done, both Dallas and I were breathing heavily, our breaths coming out shaky, the moment even more intense and passionate than it had been before.

  I lay there still for a moment, my cock straining toward her, and then I flexed my hands around her waist and lifted her.

  I landed true, my hardness centered at her opening.
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  She leaned back slightly, her hands resting on my flanks.

  I gripped my cock at the base, teased up and down her slit before I began to push in.

  She breathed out slowly, and I moved even more slowly, filling her millimeter by millimeter.

  It took all of my self-control not to ram into her, but as much as I wanted that, I couldn’t imagine anything matching the delicious thrill of feeling Dallas’s walls stretch around me.

  “Oh God,” she said on a harsh sigh when I was fully inside.

  “I feel so…full,” she said, her voice a whisper.

  “Is it too much?” I asked. My hands were roaming her body, but I stilled and watched her for signs of distress.

  “God no,” she said, her eyes heavy-lidded but still sharp, still Dallas.

  I smiled, happy to see that she was still there and then thrust experimentally.

  Dallas clinched around me, and froze, I thrust again, and she let out a little moan, then squeezed her walls tight around me.

  It was me who moaned this time, as I did when Dallas repeated the action.

  We went on like that, her squeezing, me thrusting, both of us panting, moaning, the sound drowning out everything but the beat of my heart.

  “Dallas, I—”

  “Kristian—”

  I could feel the climax brewing, and knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it back. I reached between us, again capturing her clit.

  I flicked it once, and then squeezed, and Dallas clamped down hard and went off like a rocket.

  Seeing her passion and her climax triggered my own, and on a deep sigh-moan, I emptied my seed into the latex.

  Twelve

  Dallas

  “What are you doing?”

  I put my pencil down and shifted to look at Kristian as he approached me. He’d been in the kitchen, concocting something divine if the smell was anything to go by, while I had been in my favorite place, sitting cross-legged on his polished concrete floor, looking out of the beautiful windows.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly, putting my hand over my sketchbook.

  Kristian continued to approach, and for a moment I was frozen, struck by the sight of him and the emotions that coursed through me.

  I still hadn’t gotten used to it, seeing him like this, nude, glorious, so comfortable in his skin, comfortable with me.

  He was a sight to behold, something majestic, the intensity of his handsomeness, and the inexorable pull toward him.

  But at the same time, the strength of that attraction, the sense of disbelief I felt at the combustible passion between us, there was something else underlying it, a connection that had always been there, but that felt even stronger now.

  I still hadn’t quite managed to figure out how that had happened, Kristian simultaneously making me feel shy and wanton, making me feel nervous and yet completely comfortable.

  In some ways, I suspected I never would, so I decided not to waste too much time considering it, not when there were other, more important things to do.

  “You hiding your sketch?” he asked as he came to a stop beside me.

  I quickly scrambled to my feet and held the sketchpad loosely at my side.

  “Why do you think that?” I asked, adding a smile to the end, cringing inside because I knew how false I sounded.

  I tried to keep my stance casual, treat the sketchbook as if it were nothing, but as with most things, Kristian saw through it.

  “A hunch. But if you don’t want to share…” he said, his eyes on me, clearly gauging my reaction.

  “I don’t mind if you look at my sketches,” I said.

  Kristian wouldn’t even let people test dishes that he hadn’t tried himself, but I had no problem letting him look at my sketches. He very seldom gave me any feedback, other than the standard pretty, or interesting, which was when I knew that the work was terrible. I didn’t mind showing it to him, and realized in that moment that me doing so only underscored how connected we were.

  My art in its raw state was me, pieces of my soul etched into whatever medium I chose. Showing it to someone, especially in an unfinished state was something that left me vulnerable, made me feel unstable.

  But not with him.

  Some small part of me wondered why I hadn’t realized that before, but I was too preoccupied to focus on that.

  I shrugged again, again going for nonchalance, and again failing. “It’s nothing, really, just something I was doodling, trying to distract myself,” I said.

  And that, at least, was true. I had made no headway on my sculptures, and free drawing often got the creative juices flowing again.

  Of course the direction this particular drawing had managed to take was one that left me feeling embarrassed, even more vulnerable than usual.

  “If it’s no big deal, why not show it to me?” he asked.

  I looked at his face, tried to read his expression, and was annoyed this was one of those times when Kristian was being anything but an open book.

  “Fine, you can see it, but don’t get mad,” I said.

  “Why would I get mad…” he trailed off as he looked at the sketch I had offered.

  Yet again, his expression was unreadable, not giving me any clue as to what he was thinking.

  I felt nervousness, something I so infrequently felt in Kristian’s presence, spark up again.

  I rushed to fill the silence, silence that got more intense and more excruciating with each millisecond that ticked by.

  “I told you you might get offended,” I said.

  I knew I sounded defensive, and I didn’t like that, but I’d felt compelled to give some explanation. I hadn’t meant anything by the sketch, and I wanted to make sure Kristian knew that.

  “Mad?” he said, looking at me, blinking, his dark eyes darkening further, but still telling me nothing. “You think I’d be mad about this?” he asked, pointing at the sketchpad.

  “Well, yeah,” I finally said.

  “Why?” he asked.

  I’d glanced down, not wanting to see his reaction, but I looked at Kristian again, then looked at the sketch. When I opened the pad, I let my hand move into whatever shapes I wanted, and the one that had come out was Kristian’s crest, the official seal that I saw very infrequently, but that had been burned into my brain. I had drawn it before, especially when Kristian and I had first become acquainted.

  Family crest, that was so incredibly cool, but Kristian didn’t seem impressed by it, and if anything was annoyed.

  Still, I had been taken, and had drawn it before, but never quite like this.

  The eagle, the coin, and the mace, the official weapon of Medina, looked as they always did. But I’d made an adjustment, drawing in a serving knife and fork.

  As the sketch had taken shape, it seemed perfect, the melding of the two elements of Kristian.

  But to have him look at it, especially without knowing if I had overstepped in some way was something I hadn’t intended.

  “You’re such an idiot, Dallas,” Kristian said, his cheek lifting as he broke into a small smile.

  Some of the tightness that had been in my chest released ever so slightly, and I tilted my head to look at him.

  “An idiot?” I asked.

  “Yeah, you think I’d be mad about this?”

  “Well, I know that royalty take their family crest seriously,” I said.

  I sounded flippant, but certainly didn’t intend that, and went on to tell Kristian as much.

  “I mean, I don’t want to offend, or overstep,” I said, my voice sounding more sincere now.

  “Of course we take it seriously, and I appreciate you being so respectful of that, but this, this is beautiful,” he said.

  He’d spoken the words with the nonchalance I had been seeking earlier, but still, hearing them from him warmed my heart. He often complimented my art, but the sincerity of his words in that moment, the fact that he was referencing something of himself only intensified the moment that much more.

  “Tha
nks,” I said, for lack of more elegant or eloquent words.

  “I mean, I’m not an art critic and tell me if I’m wrong, but this is like me,” he said, a faint hint of awe in his voice.

  Despite myself I smiled, the expression coming out bright, a feat considering how nervous I had been just seconds ago.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “I know I say this about most of your work, but this is freaking amazing, Dallas.”

  “Thanks, again,” I added, lacking anything else to say.

  “No, thank you,” he replied.

  He looked at the sketchpad for a few seconds longer and then returned it to me.

  Though Kristian had said he liked the sketch, the moment still left me feeling antsy, exposed, and anxious to talk about something, anything else.

  I dropped the sketchbook, telling myself that I would get rid of the sketch later, and then turned my attention back to Kristian.

  And again was struck by his handsomeness, the overwhelming nature of his physical presence.

  “You done sketching?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

  I had been looking at his face, but at the sound of his voice I let my gaze drop, trace over the planes of his chest, down his flat stomach, to the cock that was beginning to harden.

  “Am now,” I said.

  Then I took a step toward him.

  Thirteen

  Kristian

  “You done for the night, Chef?”

  I nodded at Martin, the kitchen manager, and finished wiping down the cabinet.

  “Yeah. I guess I’ll call it a night,” I said.

  Martin nodded, and had the decency not to look relieved.

  It was well after two in the morning, and after working the dinner service at the first restaurant, he had agreed to come with me to the second to do a test run of the menu. Though he didn’t show it, I knew the man was tired and ready to leave.

  “You anxious to get home?” I asked.

  Martin looked vaguely embarrassed, but then nodded.

  “Yeah, I’m going to meet up with Ashley,” he said.

  “Tell her I said hi,” I said.

  Ashley had been one of the maître d’s at the first restaurant, and it was only after she left that she and Martin started to date. I had a hard and fast no-fraternization policy, and more than halfway suspected the woman had left the job just for a chance to hook up with him.