Beg: Not Until You, Part 5. Roni Loren

lifted her onto the bed.

      Lessons could start later.

      Right now he just needed to be inside her.

       Chapter 22

      Mmm. I shifted beneath the covers, my legs sliding languidly through the luxurious linens as my mind drifted in that haze between sleeping and wakefulness. Pitch-black darkness pressed against my eyelids, and I felt as if I were floating in a sun-heated ocean, the waves rocking me gently. My skin had gone warm all over, and some sound was drifting from my lips, but I couldn’t quite grab on to what I was trying to say.

      “Time to wake up, angel.” The statement was quiet, as if coming from a place just out of my reach.

      Wake up … wake up … But before my mind could grab on to the words or their meaning, something warm and wet moved between my thighs, stroking me. That vaulted me right to the surface of consciousness. My eyelids flew open in the darkness, and I automatically tried to reach out, but my arms jerked backward—bound to something behind me.

      Teeth nibbled.

      “Oh, God.”

      Foster laughed softly, his puffs of breath coasting over my already damp skin. “There you are. I was starting to wonder if you were going to come in your sleep.”

      He licked me again right along my cleft, and I tried to push my knees together. But, of course, my legs didn’t cooperate. “I can’t move.”

      “Kind of the point.” His tongue circled my clit, teasing and tasting like he was exploring me for the first time even though he’d been deep inside me only a few hours ago. A languid rush of oh yes went through my nerve endings, my body responding as if I’d never come before, everything stirring to life and aching already.

      I moaned and he tucked fingers inside me while laving at my sensitized skin. My back curved upward off the bed, and my gaze rolled toward the ceiling. Everything was so black, the windowless room providing no relief—an abyss of pleasure and feeling without the distraction of sight. But before my eyes shut again, a small red dot in the far corner of the room snagged my attention.

      “Foster,” I whispered.

      “Hmm” he said, obviously distracted with his strategic destruction of every bit of my self-control. Because even as anxiety was welling, my muscles were tightening and my hips were rocking toward him, urging him on.

      “What’s that red light for?”

      There was the sound of sheets rustling and then little sparks—the dark so absolute that I could see the static electricity firing. He kissed the inside of my knee, and I could sense he was looking at me now, his gaze holding weight even in the void. “It’s a camera, angel. A lot of the rooms here are monitored.”

      My heart jumped in my throat and lodged there. “People are watching us.”

      “Shh,” he said, kissing down my thigh again. “It’s not for public viewing—we could open the window by the door if we wanted that. It’s only dungeon monitors who keep an eye on things for safety reasons.”

      “Can they see us in the dark?” I asked, my voice sounding tiny in the cavernous room.

      “I imagine so. Grant doesn’t spare expense on equipment.” His hand gripped my thigh with gentle pressure. “But relax, Cela. You’re safe here with me. Your privacy is protected.”

      “How can I know that for sure?” I suddenly felt beyond vulnerable—naked and tied down in the dark.

      “Because you trust me,” he said simply. “That’s your only job with me—to trust. I would never put you at risk. And I promise you, that if you’re going to be mine, you’re going to need to get used to being exposed at times. Remember that laundry list of mine I told you about?”

      “Yes.” His fingers were working inside me again, and I was having trouble holding on to my fear, the rhythmic, mind-melting motion drawing all of my energy toward the need for release.

      “Being watched kind of turns me on, angel.”

      I writhed as he curled his fingers to rub on that spot that made everything want to break open inside me. “Oh …”

      “And I suspect, if you really let yourself think about it—let yourself imagine someone on the other side of that camera getting hot because you’re so fucking sexy spread out like this for me, you might kinda like it, too.”

      I whimpered.

      “And even if you don’t, you’ll do it because it pleases me.”

      His mouth settled over me again, and white light leaked into the dark behind my eyelids. I bowed up and the images drifted from my mind. All that was left was Foster, in the dark, his tongue and fingers bringing me past the point of shame. A stadium could’ve been watching at the moment, and I probably wouldn’t have cared.

      He sucked on my clit and moved a third finger inside me. My control splintered, and I cried out, bucking against the bindings and rocketing into the arc of release. He held on to me, his mouth working me with expert precision as I turned into some mindless, begging thing.

      Then, as if attuned to my body in a way even I wasn’t, he slowly backed off, easing me down from the orgasm with soft touches and words until I stopped writhing. Then he was unhooking an ankle and a wrist and rolling me onto my side. The sound of a foil wrapper being torn open registered in my buzzing brain. Hot naked skin pressed against my back, the coarse hair on his chest brushing me, and a hand gripped me below the knee. “Open for me, Cela. I need you.”

      Foster guided my knee toward my chest. The arm and leg of the side I was lying on were still tethered, so I could do nothing but let him put me in position. Then he was sliding deep, his thick heat pushing over tender, needy tissues. I moaned again, not sure I could handle more stimulation. But as he banded an arm around me and stroked me with gentler fingers than before, I knew there was no fighting it. This man knew exactly how to wring every drop of pleasure out of me, whether I was exhausted or not. My body wanted to give it to him.