He reached for a cravat dangling across his bedpost. “We can do something fancy, if you like.”
Her heart gave an anticipatory leap. “All right. Perhaps not spanking, though.”
“Not tonight.” He wrapped the silky length of his cravat around her eyes and tied it loosely. “All right?”
“Am I going to walk the plank?”
“Ride it, of a certainty.”
She gave a nervous laugh.
Everything was completely dark.
She was utterly at his mercy.
Which was unutterably thrilling.
“Here,” he whispered. “Lie back, sweetheart.” He urged her backward in his arms until her head rested on the pillow.
“Tell me anytime if you’re uncomfortable.”
For long moments, nothing happened.
All was silence, apart from the crackle of the fire. Anticipation ramped, and she supposed that was the point. Deprived of her vision for the moment, her other senses greedily came alive to the feel of the sweat drying on her skin, and the sheets on her back, and the delicious musk of a nearby sweaty man.
Then his hand slid softly across her belly.
She gave a start and moaned low and long, the pleasure honed by anticipation and surprise. It surged swiftly out from where he touched her, the way a rock displaces water. She felt it everywhere in her body.
He dragged his hand over the mound of her belly to her hip and back again.
And then suddenly his touch vanished from her skin.
Her heart beat with spiky longing for the next sensation.
She gasped when his mouth closed around her nipple, and he traced and teased it with his tongue, then sucked.
“Oh...” She gasped and drew her knees up.
“Good?” he whispered. Seconds later his fingers began trailing down the seam between her ribs, and twining in the curls between her legs, and the feeling was odd and gorgeously illicit, as if another man had come to join them.
He trailed kisses now from her breasts to her navel. She was mesmerized by the magical collusion between her skin and his fingertips. How would she ever have known?
“You are all over satin.” His voice sounded drugged. “Your skin is the most decadent thing I have ever in my life touched.”
But then his hands vanished from her again.
In the silence she could hear her own quickened breathing.
A guttural animal sound of almost shocked, agonized bliss when his tongue stroked where she was wet and aching.
He didn’t stop.
Just in case he had any plans to do that, she thought she’d better say, “Don’t stop. Oh, please don’t stop.”
He didn’t. With relentless, merciless skill he used his tongue, and lips, and fingers to drive her to the brink of madness with pleasure heretofore unimaginable. Her breath sobbed from her until she shattered again, white lights exploding behind her eyes.
“I want you again. Please, Ginny. I need you now,” he begged.