“Jesus,” he said, “you make me hard.”

“Then fuck me,” I said, reaching for him. He knelt over me, and my fingers found his fly, tugged it down. I slipped my hand inside and found his cock, so hard, so ready. “I want you dressed. I want you like this. Here. Now.” I met his eyes. “I want skin on skin, Tyler.”

He tilted his head, the posture casual, but there was heat—and understanding—in his eyes. “Do you?”

“Desperately. I’m clean,” I said. “Tell me you are, too.”

“I am,” he said.

“Then fuck me,” I begged, then closed my mouth over his, the kiss hard and wild. He’d cast a spell over me, but I didn’t care. I wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted the night sky above us.

“Fuck me,” I repeated as I tugged his hand, tumbling him down on top of me.

“Fuck me,” I cried, as he drove himself into me, deeper and harder, taking everything I had to give and then some. My body was open to him, wild for him. I’d never known anything like this. Freedom mixed with fear, wildness tied to desire, lust keyed on just one man.

“Tyler,” I moaned, as the building orgasm whipped over me, pulling me up and out of myself, and then—finally—spiraling me off into the night, and into the stars that rained like a firestorm down upon us.

Chapter Eighteen

I awoke to the aroma of coffee and the sensation of something soft brushing over my naked abdomen. I opened my eyes, only to find that I still couldn’t see.

Blindfold.

I shot up, spurred into motion by the burst of fear. My heart was pounding, and my fingers grappled at my face—then were suddenly stopped by strong warm hands gently pulling my fingers free before I could rip the blindfold away.

Tyler.

“Tyler, please.”

“Shhh. You’re not tied up. You’re safe. You’re still in bed, and you’re safe.” He brushed a kiss over my lips. “I want you to leave it on. If you have to take it off, I won’t stop you. But if you can do this, I know that you’ll enjoy it—and I’m damn certain I’ll take you places you haven’t gone before.”

I swallowed, still edgy, but I trusted him, and I was calmer.

I wiggled my arms and legs as if to reassure myself that I could run.

“Anytime? I can rip it off anytime I want to?”

“Of course.”

I managed an ironic smile. “Last night you wanted me to see the stars, and now you won’t even let me see the room?”

He laughed, obviously understanding that my words were my acquiescence.

“Sight is an amazing thing, Detective. It makes it so much easier to appreciate a woman’s lovely curves.” I heard him move around the bed, could almost feel his eyes upon me. “To see more vividly all of her delights …”

Gently, he took my ankles, then spread my legs.

I squirmed, still so easily embarrassed, despite everything we’d done. But it was different somehow since I couldn’t see his face, could only imagine his expression and the heat in his eyes.

“Don’t,” he said gently. “Do you have any idea how lovely you are? How hard it makes me just knowing that you want me? How incredibly exciting it is for me to see just how much you want me?

“Sight,” he continued, and I gasped as his finger stroked slowly over my sex, dipping inside me just enough to tease and make me squirm again, this time in a silent demand for more. A demand he ignored and instead withdrew his finger. Withdrew his touch altogether.

“And taste and smell,” he added, his voice now near my ear and his finger brushing my lip. “That’s it. I want you to know just how sweet you taste to me, how much I crave the scent of your arousal.” He traced his finger over my lip, then under my nose.

“There are words, too. The sound of my voice, telling you soft things. Or maybe my words are rough. Hard. Telling you I’m going to stroke you with a featherlight touch or fuck you until you scream.”

I could feel my sex clenching, and knew at the change in his tone that he saw it.

“Keep your legs spread for me, arms, too,” he said, and I whimpered in protest, certain that if I could rip off the damn blindfold I would drown in his expression of smug satisfaction.

“Please,” I said. “What about touch? It’s a sense, too.”

“So it is. Is that what you want?”

“I want you to touch me,” I said. “I want you inside me.”

“Soon,” he promised. “But until then, I think we can make you want it just a little bit more.”

I felt something whispy and soft graze my skin.

“What is it?” I asked. “A feather?”

“There are feathers,” he said. “And little strips of leather all bundled together like a flower at the end of a flexible stick.”

“Um …”

“Technically, it’s a cat toy.” He trailed the feathery end over my sex, making me arch up with surprise and pleasure. “I find playing with this kind of pussy much more interesting.”

“Meow,” I said, and made him laugh.

“Good kitty.” I heard the tease in his voice, and then felt the tease of the toy’s touch. He trailed it all over me, the feathers barely touching my skin, from the soles of my feet all the way up to the curve of my ear. Everything stroked and teased and aroused, and when I was wet and hot and ready to beg him for more, he had me flip to my stomach and started on my back.

“Please,” I said. “Tyler, please.”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. I was on fire. I wanted release. I wanted him. “Everything, I think.”

“Whatever the lady needs. On your knees, then. Arms on the bed, ass in the air.”

“I—” I shut off my words when I realized I had no idea what I’d intended to say. So I shifted my position, did as he said, then moaned with pleasure as he thrust his fingers deep inside me—

And then cried out in surprise when the toy smacked hard against my ass, the sting both shocking and sweet.

“Oh, yes,” he said as my vagina clenched tight around him. “The lady likes that.”

“Yes,” I whispered, as the sting seemed to spill warmth through my body, and my clit throbbed in a demand for attention.

“You’re incredible,” he said. “I love the way your body responds. I could tease you and play with you all day.”

“That works for me,” I murmured as he stroked his hands over my rear in slow, sensual circles, then surprised me again with another smack, this one just a little harder, the pain just a little sweeter.

He pressed his palm to the site, then stroked in easy, soothing circles as the fire that the first strike had sparked spread through me, like warm fingers to light me up and turn me on.

Behind the blindfold my eyes were closed. I’d never expected—never even imagined—such a heightened sense of pleasure coupled with anticipation—of his hand, of his cock, of just one more sting.

I’d thought that the rush I’d felt in the dungeon—naked and collared—had been the highest peak. But this was more.

I’d gotten a thrill from being on display, subject to Tyler’s every whim. But that was an excitement that stemmed from breaking the rules, from being just a little bit naughty.