Chapter 23: The Mark

The door closed behind us.

He stood in the middle of my room with his hands at his sides and did not touch me.

"On your knees," I said.

His breath caught.

"On my floor, with your hands behind you. I told the whole hall I wanted it."

He went down without a word.

The lamp threw gold across his shoulders, and the muscle in his back flexed as he clasped his own wrists.

I sat on the edge of the bed, and I felt my own heartbeat in my throat.

I hitched the blue dress up over my knees.

"Ask me," I said.

"I want to touch you."

"Where?"

He lifted his eyes to mine, nearly gold, and he spoke slowly.

"Between your thighs. With my mouth."

The words made me clench.

"Yes," I said.

"Please."

"Yes."

He bent his head.

He took his time, exactly as I had ordered.

He kissed the inside of my knee, and then higher, and I heard myself make a sound as his breath moved over my skin.

The dress went up around my waist.

He pushed my thighs apart with his shoulders, and when his tongue slid through my wet pussy I cried out.

He licked me slowly.

He found my clit and circled it, and I fisted my hand in his hair and held him there.

"Don't stop," I said.

He groaned against me, and the sound went straight through my body.

He sucked, and licked, and slid two fingers inside me, curling them until the pleasure climbed my spine in hot, shuddering waves.

His hands were still behind his back.

I had not let him have them.

That was the cruelest part, and I loved it.

I came with his name in my mouth, my back arched, my thighs shaking around his head.

He did not let up until I was gasping and pushing at him.

When he lifted his face it was wet, and his lips were swollen, and he looked up at me, hungry and pleased.

"Hands," I said, breathless.

He brought them around and set them on my thighs, and I leaned down and kissed him, tasting myself.

I pushed him backward onto the rug, and I stripped the dress off over my head.