By the time he finished speaking, words failed me. I nodded as a lone tear slid down my cheek.
Van’s arms pulled me close, tugging me from the chair into his embrace. Together, we fell onto the tile floor in a tangle of limbs until I was on my back, and he was over me. His handsome face was inches from mine, his arms supporting his torso above me while the length of his body and the hardness of his erection pressed between my legs.
Only our clothing stopped us from becoming one.
Brushing stray strands of my hair away from my face, Van asked, “Can you give me that?”
I nodded. “Trust and time.”
“Yes.” His chest vibrated as he let out a breath.
I grinned. “I don’t need all the answers this minute—we have forever, right?”
“Forever.”
His lips met mine as heat replaced the earlier anguish. Upon the hard kitchen floor, his hands roamed as his kiss deepened. Pulling apart from me, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
“I was, but now I’m hungry for something else.”
Julia
My questions about Van’s past faded as lust and yearning filled the void. One by one, my articles of clothing disappeared until I was left fully exposed, completely vulnerable to Van’s ministrations. The cold tile wasn’t the only cause of the goose bumps peppering my flesh or the hardness of my nipples. He sat back on his heels, perched between my legs.
The earlier dullness in his orbs was gone. Van’s gaze sizzled with the heat of his desire. “I need you to trust me.”
“I do.”
He offered me his hand. I stared for a minute, unsure why he’d stopped the foreplay. My core pulsated with unmet need as I laid my hand in his. As I stood, he led me back to my chair.
“I don’t understand,” I admitted.
His lips came to the sensitive skin of my neck and lower to my collarbone. “Sit and let me enjoy our meal and my gift.”
His gift?
Time and trust.
Unsure of what Van had planned, I did as he said.
I licked my lips as he unbuckled his belt. Pulling it from the loops, he said, “Now give me your hands.”
His deep voice rumbled through me as I sat naked upon the chair and offered him my hands. Van took each one and gently kissed each palm before directing me to place them behind me. He followed, out of my sight, behind the chair.
“What are you doing?”
My breath caught as Van began winding the soft leather of his belt around my wrists. My shoulders pulled as he secured my lower arms together. “Van?”
I’d never been bound.
As he continued his mission, the pull in my muscles stayed on the safe side of pain. My pulse kicked up as my breathing shallowed. Each tug was both frightening and erotic.
“Trust me.” His timbre reverberated through me.
I did trust Van. I wanted to. Yet with each jerk of my arms, the unknown prickled my senses. I tried to squirm, but with the way my arms were now locked in place and my breasts pushed forward, I was left at his mercy. Warm breath teased my sensitive skin as he gently moved my long hair away from my breasts and to behind my shoulders, kissing and nipping my neck and lower to my collarbone.
Slowly, he moved around the chair, scanning me up and down. “Spread your legs. I want to see that beautiful, wet pink pussy.”
“Van?”
He cupped my chin, pulling my gaze to his. “Are you wet?”
I nodded.
“Show me.”
Each movement pulled on my arms, but with time, I was able to comply, opening my legs. Once I had, I again met his gaze. The sizzling I’d seen as he undressed me was now ablaze, an out-of-control wildfire radiating palpable heat.
“Van, tell me what you’re going to do.”
“Trust me.”
He wasn’t asking me a question, but if he were, I did trust him. It wasn’t because I was without options—it was because I had given him my trust and he still had it. As I searched the depth of his stare, I voiced what I knew in my heart. “I do.”
Van let out a breath. “Close your eyes and listen to my voice.”
The baritone tenor settled over me as my eyelids obeyed.
I gasped as the chair was moved, turned to the side.
“Keep your eyes closed, Julia. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
A louder gasp filled the air as his large hands held my thighs and his warm tongue ran the seam of my folds. Like a match to kindling, his mouth brought flames to my core, my insides twisted tighter as he licked and nipped. I longed to reach out, to weave my fingers through his dark mane, and pull him even closer.
Secured in place with my eyes shut, my other senses were on high alert as he shifted and his lips met mine. His kiss deepened as his tongue sought entrance.
“Taste yourself, Julia. You taste better than anything on this table.”
I didn’t back away as his lips again captured mine. When he pulled away, I was breathless as I waited for his next move. Everything inside me wanted me to look and watch this beautiful man as he did whatever he was about to do. However, he’d told me to keep my eyes closed, and for no other reason than to show him I trusted him, I wanted to comply.
“Open your lips.”
The smooth edge of the wine glass came into contact with my lips as the tart and dry liquid covered my tongue. I hurried to swallow but not before wine dribbled down my chin and onto my breasts.
“Tsk-tsk,” he murmured, his voice teeming with authority, causing my core to clench, “that won’t do.”
Before I could respond, his tongue lapped the wine from my skin. My nipples drew tighter as he purposely dribbled more of the wine over my breasts and down my stomach.
I stole a peek as he continued his torturous descent, licking and slurping while his touch moved even lower. My body was on fire as he pumped his long fingers inside me, his lips still sucking the liquid from my skin.
“Oh, Van.”
I felt him move. The sounds of dishes and utensils filled my ears before his next command. “Open those sexy lips again.”
The delicious scent of turkey and gravy preceded the bite of food landing upon my tongue.
“That’s it. Swallow.” After I complied, he said, “Open your eyes.”
I wasn’t sure when he’d done it, but my view was consumed with the lines on his toned abdomen, the definition of his arms, and the large erection before me. My lips curled into a grin as the sight of him caused me to momentarily forget that I was bound and helpless.
“Do you like what you see?”
“Very much.”
“What do you want?”
“You mean besides you?” I asked.
“Yes, I plan on feeding you this dinner because you’ll need nutrition for what I have planned next.”
My eyes scanned the table. “Mashed potatoes.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Van wasn’t using the utensils as he dipped his fingers in the whipped potatoes. Melted butter dripped on my skin as he brought the bite to my lips. Without his prompting, I opened my mouth, taking in the delicious starch and licking his fingers clean.
Alternating between feeding me, feeding himself, offering me drinks of wine, and him drinking some too, Van proceeded to clean both of our plates and drain both of our glasses. With each bite and each sip, the wanton need within me grew. I’d never imagined that eating a holiday dinner could be so erotic.