...As her blood heated in her veins and warmed her muscles like a slow, particularly arousing yoga pose, she realized she had never before known such a seduction. She had always been the initiator. Maybe she’d had too much of a good thing. Perhaps that was why she’d been feeling unsatisfied in all her relationships lately.

“I can feel the tension,” he said.

She thought his lips must be scant centimeters away from her own at the way she could feel his breath caress her mouth. She stuck out her tongue, tentatively she guessed, because she wanted to see if her impression was right.

“What a beautiful pink tongue you have,” he said. “When I watched it skimming the tip of my cock, I nearly shot my load then and there. Did you know that?”

Now the heat moving through her wasn’t languid. It was red hot. She could feel perspiration starting to pop on her skin in the most sensitive places, at her hairline on her temple under the blindfold, at the indentation of the crease of her neck, in the bend of her arms and legs, at the rim of her nipples, which were starting to distend and harden with arousal.

“It’s a perfect tongue and the mouth that surrounds it is perfect as well. Perhaps I’ll taste both now.”

Kayla held her breath.

“But first I think you need to relax more, to trust more,” he said.

He moved away from her, and Kayla bit back her sigh of frustration. She wanted patience. That’s what she’d complained about the most about her last lover, better known as “the thirty-second man.” She’d vowed the next man would not fit that pattern.

Her mother used to tell her to be careful what she wished for. Now, she was learning that axiom the hard way.

Her frustration turned to steeped pleasure when she felt his lips trace a slow path down her chest. She shouldn’t be having a hard time breathing. After all she couldn’t move her arms, and his legs were keeping hers trapped. So really, why was her heart racing and her lungs working as hard as if she were on the stair climber at level twenty-eight?

She couldn’t answer that—hell she could barely think—then that amazing mouth moved lower until she could feel his moist, hot breath against her nipple. He licked it once from top to bottom. Then a second time from bottom to top, this time slower than the first, but it was definitely a lick, not a suckle. When he did it a third time from right to left, she arched her back to try and entice him to take it into his mouth.

“I’ve never forgotten how your skin tastes. How is that possible?”

Kayla shook her head, awed at his words, but unable to respond. It seemed she’d lost the ability to do anything other than feel. It appeared Jacob didn’t need her verbal response. He continued to worship her body, but now not just with his mouth. She felt his fingers and hands move into action. She almost sighed in relief because this meant both mounds got the attention they desperately craved. He kneaded and stroked across her breasts, pausing to tug on her nipples, plumping and plucking at them with a steady pace that seemed to set up an answering pulse inside her pussy. He pushed her breasts together, then suckled both nipples simultaneously.

“Jacob.” Her voice was strained, so much she almost didn’t recognize it. “Please.”

She needed something more, but her mind was splintering. If he kept this up, she wasn’t certain she’d ever be able to have a rational, normal thought again.

“Oh, I am pleasing. You and me,” he countered. The air conditioning in the limo cycled on. The coolness, combined with the wet heat his mouth had recently provided against her skin, caused an immediate reaction. He noticed it, also immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m letting you get chilled. Maybe this will warm you up.”

She heard a rustle she couldn’t quite place followed by the unmistakable pop of a cork being released.

“How about a champagne toast, darling?”