Until I Break(32)
Author: M. Leighton

“I’m going to help you get ready for tonight. Your clothes shouldn’t be too long now. But first…a bath,” he says, never taking his eyes off mine.

I don’t know what to say. I feel like I should argue, at least for propriety’s sake.

We’ve only even kissed once and now he’s talking about a bath?

But no words form on my lips. Everything else in the world seems pointless compared to what I see in Alec’s eyes.

Pulling me further into the room, he stops in front of an oversized tub, half full of water, suds and flower petals.

“Those are for you,” he says. “I thought a more romantic ambience might put you at ease.”

And he was right. But it doesn’t eclipse the reason that I’m here. That we’re both here. “Thank you,” I whisper, keeping my insecurities to myself.

“This is all about you, all for you. This is to show you that I’m always considering you, that you can trust me. You must trust me. You must do as I ask. Every time. Without hesitation. Do you understand?”

I get the sense that he’s warning me. Again. But the thinking part of me refuses to heed it. Again.

When I don’t answer, he reaches up to push a lock of hair behind my ear. “All good?”

I nod. “All good.”

Alec drops to one knee and wraps his large hand behind my leg, lifting until it bends and my foot comes off the floor. He slips off first one shoe and then the other.

I watch the top of his dark head as his fingers tease the tops of my toes. “Did you know,” he asks, glancing up at me with his burning eyes, “that to some people, feet are an erogenous zone?” As he watches me, his thumb begins to make deep circles on my arch. I feel the sensation all the way in the lowest part of my stomach.

His eyes still on mine, Alec slowly stands until he’s towering over me at his full height. I feel intimidated and excited and a little fearful of what he could do to me if he so chose.

“I’ve imagined what your br**sts look like,” he says as he curls his fingers in the hem of my shirt and eases it up. When it’s free of my arms and lying on the floor behind me, he continues. “Pale white and perfectly round,” he whispers as he slides both bra straps off my shoulders and down my arms, pulling the cups over my ni**les. His eyes fixate on them in a way that feels like a physical touch. He lets out a sigh that sounds both pained and excited. “With pink ni**les that taste like candy.”

I feel them tighten as he speaks, as if begging for him to try them. And he does. In a movement so slow it almost hurts, Alec unhooks the clasp between my br**sts and bends his head to take my aching nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it until I can’t breathe.

I let my head fall back, immediately lost to the sensation. It’s easier than it usually is. But I shouldn’t be surprised. From the moment I first saw Alec, I’ve found myself lost in him, lost to him.

“I’m making introductions,” he explains, trailing his mouth across to my other breast, “because you and my tongue are going to become close friends. Best friends, in fact.” He flicks my nipple with the warm, wet muscle then sucks it into his mouth. When he releases it, he licks his way down my stomach to the waist band of my skirt. “You’ll dream of it,” he says, his hands moving to the small of my back where he unbuttons and unzips the closure. Easing it over my hips, he lets it drop to the floor. “And you’ll think of it every time you go to put on your panties.” Leaning forward, Alec runs his tongue along the elastic band, his chin grazing the top of my most sensitive body part.

He hooks one finger inside the material where it runs between my legs and he brushes it back and forth over my nearly-smooth flesh. “Hmmm,” he groans. “These are already damp. That’s why you won’t be wearing panties while you’re here.” He glances up at me as he continues dragging his finger seductively over me, his knuckle grazing my clitoris. “I want all this on me, not wasted on satin and lace.”

I can’t move. I can’t speak.

Alec drags my panties down my legs, leaving me standing completely naked before him. I’m not thinking of my modesty, however, I’m thinking of his touch. I know it’s coming. Part of me is begging for it. Part of me is dreading it.

He pauses, his face only inches from my moist, hot center, and he watches me. Closely. As though he’s reading my mind.

I feel the shift and I know he saw into me. He saw my hesitation. And he’s adjusting his plan.

Rising, Alec directs his attention to his shirt. His hand moves to the collar, drawing my attention as well. I watch his fingers move deftly over each button, unfastening them as he makes his way to his waist. My pulse is throbbing erratically in my neck and I’m rooted to the spot.

When he slowly parts the two halves of his shirt, I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized by the flexing of rock hard muscle under smooth bronze skin. His chest is broad and sculpted, his abs are rippling and defined, and his waist is trim and narrow. He is a study in perfection.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks quietly, bringing my eyes up to his face. “Because I can keep going.” His hands go to his belt buckle and stop, awaiting my instruction. He’s leaving it up to me—how far we go right now—and as curious as I am about what’s inside those pants, and as hopeful as I am that he can be the one to do what no other has been able to thus far, fear that it will all fall apart wins the day.

“What else did you have in mind?” I ask shyly, hoping I don’t sound like a high school virgin.

Alec says nothing, moves nothing, for several long tense moments. I want to know what he’s thinking, but I’m afraid to ask.

But then, much to my relief, he abandons his buckle and steps closer to me instead. He sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the tub. Dropping to one knee, he sets me in the warm, scented water. “I want you to concentrate. Hard. Focus all your attention on not enjoying my hands on your body, okay?”

I’m surprised and confused, but thrilled that his task will be easy for me. I nod in agreement.

Alec takes a brand new bar of soap in his hands and lathers them. Starting at my throat, he massages the thick, creamy froth into my skin in lazy circles. He works his way down my chest to my br**sts. Then I understand why the tub is only half full. It leaves my upper body out of the water. Open to his eyes. And his touch.

I tremble as his gaze follows his hands. “These ni**les are mouthwatering,” he groans as his slippery fingers move over them. “I can only imagine how they would look all red and tender from being covered in hot wax.” As if to punctuate his thought, he pinches them, unleashing a gush of heat that floods my core. I clamp my lips against the gasp that traps air in my lungs. Remembering his words, I think about how I shouldn’t be enjoying what he’s doing. And I’m not. Not really.