Bite Read Free Page A

slid under the front of my panties. My eyes drifted closed, and inside my head I chanted, “Lower, lower, lower. Touch me, please. Lower, yes, more, more, more. Oh my fucking God, Kevin Lattimore is about to touch my pussy!”
    And then he did, and pleasure chased the surreal wonderment away. A potent, delicious reality took its place.
    I was so wet it was shameful, but I’d long since abandoned embarrassment for the thrill of the experience. There was a very good possibility this would be a one-time thing, both of us acting on an urge, and for me a fantasy, so I was going to enjoy it immensely while it lasted. Christ, was I enjoying that thumb, rubbing my needy clit in lazy circles, aiding the climb.
    Just when I was certain I was about to come, he’d move his finger to a less sensitive spot, and the pleasure would recede like a wave rolling out to sea. I swallowed a plea for mercy—he would only ignore it anyway. Clearly Kevin liked to be in control, if my bound hands were any indication. I would come when he wanted me to, not the other way around. That in itself was an incredible turn-on.
    Instead of using my voice to beg, I tried doing it with my body, canting my hips in a not-so-subtle hint. I watched his teeth catch his bottom lip as he slid two fingers inside me. I couldn’t stop the cry that left my throat any more than I could stop the orgasm that finally, mercifully, broke, helped along I suspect by his unorthodox brand of foreplay.
    Kevin said something, but I couldn’t make it out over the buzz in my bloodstream and my panting breaths. With a deep sigh, I cracked an eyelid to find him smiling softly, his eyes nearly black as he watched me.
    I mumbled a ridiculous “thank you” before he covered my mouth in a long, thorough kiss. He took his sweet time, which surprised me. This is usually the part of the program where the guy is ripping open a condom with record speed. Instead, Kevin rained kisses over my jaw, down to my neck, where he licked at the stickiness from the candy necklace. My stomach and hipbones received generous consideration too. The journey ended with a sharp nip of his teeth on the inside of my thigh before he stripped my panties down my legs.
    “Are you ever gonna take some clothes off?” I asked.
    His attention had wandered over to the countertop again. The erection straining behind his fly looked painful, and yes, promising, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything about it.
    He must have a lot of sex to be able to hold out for this long without relief, or at the very least, he masturbated frequently. But then that theory hadn’t held water for me at all. Some nipple play and a few strokes of his thumb and I’d shamelessly gone off like a bottle rocket.
    “Patience, Elle. We’re working on your ability to focus, remember?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “And I’m going to teach you to respect the power of the kitchen if it kills me.”
    OK, I couldn’t help it, I giggled. “Respect the power of the kitchen?”
    He grabbed a strange-looking gadget from a vase that held a cluster of utensils and tapped it against his palm. It made a faint, metallic-clacking sound. I didn’t like that devious smile on his mouth. “You’ll understand eventually. How are your arms? Hands aren’t going numb, are they?”
    I wiggled around a bit, flexing my fingers. “No, I’m good.” The stainless steel tabletop had since warmed to my body temperature. My shoulders ached a little, but I had absolutely no right to complain. Not when he could pass out any minute from blood loss to the brain.
    “Kevin, aren’t—” The thing he held in his hand squeezed around my nipple. “Ooh, hello.” Much, much nicer than the artichoke leaf. “Whatcha got there, Chef?”
    He trailed it back and forth across my breasts before holding it up for me to see. “What does it look like?”
    “Possibly a whisk, except…smaller. And with some form of growths on the ends.”
    Kevin rolled his eyes. “God,