“As you wish,” she said, her eyes catching his, a spark in them as she glanced back at him and headed down the steps, giving him a perfect view of her gorgeous ass as she walked. His c**k twitched hard against his jeans as he pictured all the things he wanted to do to her ass. When she reached the sliding glass door and tugged it open, she cast her gaze to the outdoors, then crooked a finger, beckoning him.
“On the lounge chair,” he told her, and she crawled across the cushions. He kept his eyes on her the entire time, savoring every move of her body as cars and cabs raced by five flights below. If he peered over the brick railing he could watch the Manhattan night roll along, the people walking down the cobblestoned street in the Village. But he wasn’t looking anywhere except at her. She shifted to her back, her red hair fanning out over a pillow, her long, luxurious body stretched across the wooden lounge chair. A warm breeze floated through the dark night, blowing wisps of hair across her cheek.
He straddled her, running the end of the silk blindfold over her belly, her br**sts, then her throat, so the fabric teased her skin. Gently, he pressed the material over her eyes. She lifted her head so he could tie it behind her. As he tightened the knot, she wriggled her h*ps against his pelvis, and he felt the heat from her against the fabric of his jeans. “You want this,” he rasped out. “I can feel it. I can feel how f**king hot you are.”
“I do want this,” she whispered.
He lowered his head to her neck, buzzing a trail up to her ear. “I know you can’t see anything now, but you can feel everything. That’s why I want this. I want to watch you feel every single thing,” he said huskily, licking the shell of her ear.
She looped her hands around his neck. “It’s very dark where I am, and I need to know you’re here the whole time. You can’t look away from me.”
“I promise I will have my eyes on you the entire time,” he said, as he inched down her body. “You’ll feel me.”
“How?”
“Trust me, Julia,” he said, as he settled in at the end of the lounge chair, giving him a perfect view of her body, a straight shot of her long, luscious legs. “I’m going to sit and watch you, and I’ll tell you when I’m ready, and until then keep your hands at your sides.”
She nodded, and he drank in the sight of her, from her beautiful br**sts, so round and gorgeous, to her rosy ni**les, hard and practically demanding to be sucked on, to her soft, flat belly. Then the thong panties between her legs, beckoning to him. His fingers ached to touch her there; his mouth craved her taste. She arched her h*ps ever so slightly as he stared at her legs, and it was as if she knew, without being able to see him, that he was looking at her with such longing and heat.
“You can feel me looking at you, can’t you?”
She pressed her teeth into her bottom lip, and murmured, “Yes. I can feel your eyes on me.”
“Good. Spread your legs,” he said, and heat flared across his skin as she parted her legs, opening them wide for him.
He bit back a moan as he caught sight of the small scrap of fabric and the wetness on the cotton panel. This woman was so responsive, so aroused by him that it was almost a crime not to bury his face between her legs right now, send her h*ps shooting up into his mouth, and f**k her with his tongue.
“This is also how you’ll feel me,” he said, circling her ankles with each hand, then gripping them, and holding them down, her feet bound by him.
“Oh,” she said, arching her h*ps and rocking into the cushion before she’d even touched herself.
“Now tell me how much you want to be touching yourself right now.”
“I’m so turned on,” she said, and her voice was hot and whispery.
“Are you aching to be touched right now, Julia?”
“Yes,” she moaned, her mouth falling open as she licked her lips. “Can I?”
“Do it,” he said. “Leave your panties on and slide those fingers between your legs.”
She dropped her hand into the waistband, then lower, then lower still, and she drew a sharp breath when she made contact. God, it was a beautiful sight, her lips falling open as her fingers reached her pu**y. He wanted those fingers to be his, he wanted his mouth on her, his c**k inside her, but he wanted this torture more. He craved watching her, knowing how she looked when she was all alone. He wanted to witness how her body reacted to her own touch.
“Tell me how it feels,” he said, as he gripped her ankles, her legs unbearably sexy in those heels.
“So good,” she moaned. “So wet. My fingers are sliding all over, and I’m imagining it’s your tongue.”
Sharp agony rang in his body, and every instinct told him to tear off her panties and f**k her hard. But that wasn’t the point. He needed the torment of seeing her na**d body writhing in pleasure. He was hungry for the waiting, for the tension that gripped him as he forced himself to hold out until she’d already come from her own hand.
“And how does my tongue feel right now, Julia?” he asked as he stared greedily at her hand, moving quickly beneath the lace. “How does my tongue feel on your sweet little cl*t as I suck it between my lips and make you writhe into my mouth?”
She arched her h*ps into her hand, and moaned loudly, digging her heels firmly into the cushion. “Your tongue is so f**king good on me. I’m picturing riding your face right now,” she said in a smoky voice that betrayed all her lust, all her want, and made him ache deep in his bones to touch her.
“Take off your panties. I need to see all of your pu**y if you’re getting this worked up so quickly,” he told her.
She grabbed at the waistband, and pulled them down quickly to her knees. He tugged them off the rest of the way, taking them in one hand. “I need to smell you while you do this,” he said, and brought her panties to his nose, inhaling her. The scent of her was a direct line to his cock, painfully hard beneath the denim of his jeans, begging to be freed.
“How do I smell?” she asked as she dipped her hand back down between her legs.
“So. Fucking. Aroused.”
“I am,” she said in broken breaths as she stroked faster.
“Let your legs fall wide open, Julia,” he told her. “I want to see everything you do to yourself.”
She spread her legs further, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so open on his balcony. A black scrap of silk over her eyes, heels on her feet, and her body that he desired every single damn hour of the day, here for him. He could take her now; he could yank down his jeans and thrust inside of her, sliding into the warm, wet home of her pu**y. But he wasn’t going to. Not yet.