No Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty Two

She frowned slightly after his retreating figure, as he headed back towards his bedroom, before moving to the button on her jeans – there was no need for finesse or seduction in her movements if he wasn’t here to see them, she just needed to feel the cool breeze from the air conditioning system on her naked skin.

When he returned mere moments later (although, in the blurred mists of constant arousal, it felt to Shannon much, much longer), she was back in position. Palms flat against the cold stone, feet spread shoulder width apart – her breasts skimming the glossy surface, but never quite touching.

Slowly, he circled her opening with his fingertip, trailing behind a blaze of fire, and she jerked in response at the odd sensation, her eyebrows dropped into a slight frown as she stared down at her hands spread against the dark granite.

“It’s a cooling lubricant,” he chuckled, “To keep you burning on the edges a little longer than you’re capable ...”

She groaned as the coolant intensified against the cluster of nerve endings, her spine arching at the alien sensation, until he pressed the flat of his hand against her spine to coax her back into place, and ran the fingers of his other hand through her swollen folds.

She squirmed against the ice cold pressure at her clit – her long legs quivering with the intensity of the alien pleasure. She felt the soft towelling abrade against the cheeks of her ass as he ground his erection against her, groaning with the pleasure.

“Fuck, I love to see you like this – just mine to do with what I will,” he mused softly.

“Yes,” she moaned out softly in response, dropping her forehead to the back of her hands.

She felt the thrust of one of his fingers inside her core, and bucked against the smooth stone worktop – the chill of the tile at such a stark contrast to the heat of the incredibly male body at her back.

“You’re wet for me,” he whispered, “Already. That’s my good girl, you’re always so ready ... sometimes even before I am ... isn’t that right kitten?”

“Mmm ... uh ... yeah,” she groaned out softly, grinding her hips into his touch – the cooling easing on her throbbing, aching bundle of nerves slowly, as his ministrations pitched her arousal to higher peaks.

Heat from his body eased from her spine as he drew back, running a finger down between her cheeks as she tensed slightly at the new and forbidden sensation that he drew from her with one single barely there touch over the puckered rosette, startled panting breath trapped in her throat.

“Relax, baby,” he murmured, “Have you ... um ...”

“No,” she whispered in response, anticipating the end of his question, her dark eyes playing across the patterns in the black granite – anticipation and clenching fear warring in the pits of her stomach at the thought of what he was asking.

Gently, he eased his fingers from her core, spreading the lubrication over her slowly, teasing around the clenching sphincter of untouched muscle.