Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (19 page)

this, I don’t have to calculate what comes next. He will do that. He
is
doing

that. I trust him to the degree of allowing myself to be tied up with my

hands over my head, when I do not trust anyone.

Finally, Liam begins to undress, and I am spellbound by this powerful,

sexy man, downright hungry to see him completely naked, stripped down in

all his masculine glory, a pleasure I didn’t have the night before. There was

just us ripping whatever clothes off we could to come together. This time is

slower, more luxurious.

He toes off his shoes and slides his jacket down his shoulders. Almost

impatiently, it seems, he unbuttons his shirt. Or maybe it is simply me who

is impatient. Adrenaline pours through me as dark, springy hair peeks from

the fine material and finally, his shirt is gone. My mouth goes dry at the

sight of taut skin over flexing muscle and when his hand goes to his pants, I

suck in a breath and I do not breathe again until he is without clothes,

standing before me, his thick erection pulsing thickly in front of him.

I take in the sight of him, tall and finely carved, and he is truly a work

of art, the definition of masculine beauty but I hone in on my obsession,

one that I am sure many women have shared. The tattoo. My gaze tracks

the path of the equation that trails down, down, down, and I swallow hard

at where it ends and he is, ah, well, hard. Liam has singlehandedly made

math sexy for a girl who has despised every number she’s ever met.

Liam turns away and my heart thunders in my chest as he opens a

dresser drawer and I anticipate what he might produce, but I am

remarkably unafraid for a woman tied to a door. I am quite sure I should

be, though. What if it’s a whip or chains, or…what do people do when they

tie up a lover? He pulls out a box and a pinch begins in my chest as I digest

the packaged condom he’s removed from inside. I am suddenly

excruciatingly insecure, aware that there have been many before me, few

before him.

He tears open the package, and I drop my head between my

shoulders, hiding the emotions expanding where the pinch had been. I am

not sure why this is affecting me this way but it is. I am over my head. Way,

way over my head. I’m probably not even his first bathroom-door affair.

Maybe this very tie has been around another woman’s wrists. I do not

know what to do or say or how to be. I do not even know my own name

half the time. I am not—

Liam squats in front of me, and the sight of his strong thighs and

thick erection cuts off my rambling thoughts, and I struggle to gain my

composure and recreate some version of Amy that is worthy of this man

even if I, myself, am not.

His finger slides under my chin, and he levels my gaze with his. “I

bought the condoms today for us, if that’s what you’re wondering. For us,

Amy. I don’t stockpile and have women in my hotel room ever night. I don’t

have women to my room, or let them inside my life, at all.

Never. Just you.”

He reads me like an open book I thought I’d shut years before. “Me,”

I whisper, reminded of his declaration that we are raw and honest or we

are nothing.

“You,” he agrees. “And us.”

Us. I have never truly been a part of an “us”, but the idea strokes a

raw nerve ending, then caresses it with possibilities. I wet my suddenly dry

lips and Liam leans in and brushes his mouth over mine before he murmurs,

“And
we
need to get you to a doctor and on the pill.”

“That takes weeks,” I whisper, and the words vibrate with the same

wistful quality I’d had earlier on the sidewalk, a wistfulness that I cannot

seem to control any more than my feelings or reactions to Liam.

He cups my face and kisses me again, a soft brush of his mouth

against mine, and I can feel myself sigh inside. This is what gets to me with

Liam, the way he is so tender, and yet so dominating. It works for me.
He

works for me. So does the way he’s trailing kisses over my jaw, teasing my

neck, then my ear. “Until then,” he voices, all velvet and seduction, “I’ll be

fantasizing about the moment the only thing wrapped around me is you.”

My sex clenches with his words, slickness gathering on my bare

thighs, and I decide right then that no woman knows what she has been

missing until she has a man like Liam say such wicked things to her while he

is naked in all his male perfection.

He leans back to study me, his blue stare probing, intimate. “Have

you ever been bound before?”

I laugh and the sound is nervousness personified.

He doesn’t laugh. His hands frame my face. “And you let me tie you

up.” It is a statement, not a question, and there is a husky rasp to his voice

that tells me he is affected by this realization.

“Yes,” I confirm, knowing somehow this is what he desires of me.

His hand reaches behind me, cupping my backside, and he pulls me

to him. His shaft settles between my thighs, and I soften instantly against

him. “And I’m just barbaric enough to like the idea of being the first of

many things.”

He’s said something to this effect before. It’s just as arousing now as

it was then. “You do seem to have a bit of a liking for the word ‘teacher’.”

He caresses up my back and closes his hand on the back of my head,

pulling me to him, his cheek finding mine, his voice low, raspy, as he

murmurs, “I haven’t even begun to start teaching you, Amy. We have not

even begun to go where I plan to take you.” He drags his lips over my jaw

and his mouth lingers a breath from mine. “You trusted me with your body

by letting me bind you. I’m going to make sure you don’t regret it. That’s

step one, baby.”

I do not know what he means by “step one”, but his seductive purr

on the word “baby”

does funny things to my chest and his lips begin to trail over my jaw,

teasing me with the promise of a kiss that I hope soon will follow. And it

does. His mouth finds mine, a feather-light touch, a lick of his tongue, and I

moan with the barely there, teasing taste of him.

“I do like those little sounds you make,” he murmurs, rewarding me

with another brush of his tongue against mine. I moan again, unable to hold

it back, ultra-sensitive to all this man does to me. I’m relieved when he

deepens the kiss, when he takes me to that sweet spot where only he

exists. This is what I want. To be lost in him, and I arch into him, needing

him closer, craving that connection. Seeming to answer my plea, Liam

inches forward, leaning me against the door and cradling me more fully on

his lap, and his hands are all over me, teasing me, driving me wild. The need

to touch him spirals through me, and I tug at my hands, but there is no

escape.

There is only the growing ache of need inside me.

His lips leave mine, and I reach for his mouth, only to be denied.

“Untie me. I need to touch you.”

He frames my face with his hands and I need them to be other

places. Lots of other places. “You’re not ready to be untied.”

I laugh without humor. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“The first thing that comes into your head. Don’t censor, just speak.

Say it. Now. What are you thinking of now?”

“Your tattoo.”

“Anything else?”

“Touching you.”

“And?”

“Ripping the tie off my arms.”

He lowers his forehead to mine and his hands brush my breasts,

tease my nipples. “And now?”

“How much I don’t want you to stop.”

“That’s the idea. Escape, baby. The lack of control i
s
control. When

you’re hanging on each moment, anticipating what comes next, it leaves

room for nothing else. That’s what I want to do for you.”

I think of his comment about sharks and the certainty there is more

to his story than I know. “And who helps you escape, Liam?”

“We’re going to the same place, Amy. I’m not standing outside

watching.” He dips his head low and his lips find my neck and then my ear.

“I’m right here with you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, lavishing in the deep stroke of his hand down

my back and the seductive reply of his words in my mind.
Right here with

you.
That phrase shimmers down my spine and settles deep inside me. Liam

is
with me. In a tiny window of time, he has slipped past every wall I’ve

erected.

“Look at me, Amy.”

I pry my lashes open at his soft command and I feel a punch in my

chest when my eyes meet his. I am going to fall hard for this man. I already

have.

He leans in and kisses me, pressing my breasts together before

dragging to tease my

nipples, then dragging his mouth down my chin, to my neck and

chest until his tongue laves one of my nipples, fulfilling a wish I so desired. I

suck in a breath at the rough, wet heat suckling me, moving from one

swollen tip to the next, mercilessly licking, nipping, teasing, and I can take

no more.

“Liam, enough. Please. I need—”

“What I say you need,” he finishes, his hands cupping my backside,

lifting my belly to his mouth, dipping his tongue in my belly button, and

then licking all the way to my hipbone.

Nipping the sensitive flesh, licking again.

“Liam, damn it,” I pant, and I never curse, but then I am never this

undone. “You are making me insane.”

He smiles against my belly. “That’s the idea.”

My quaking body disagrees. “No. No, it’s not. Pleasure is the idea.”

“Pleasure,” he repeats, his eyes dancing with way too much male

satisfaction for me to hope he’s done tormenting me. “I thought that’s

what I was providing. Let’s see. How about this?” He lowers his head and

licks my clit, and I gasp, then whimper as he swirls his tongue around me

several times, then teasingly asks, “Is that pleasure?”

I squeeze my thighs around his shoulders. “Stop tormenting me.”

He blows on my clit. “It’s called foreplay.”

My lashes flutter but I manage to glare at him. “No, it’s—”

His mouth closes down on me, and waves of pleasure ripple through

me. I tug at my hands, desperate to hold his head, to make sure he doesn’t

stop this time. His fingers slide inside me, stretching me, caressing me. And

his tongue, his amazing tongue, is both sandpaper and silk, stroking me to

the edge, then masterfully soothing the ache. Over and over he licks me to

the shadow of bliss, and pulls it back.

“Liam,” I gasp, unable to take it anymore. I am trembling with how

close I am and how far at the same time. Needing him to give me relief, but

he does not. His mouth leaves my clit and he slides up my body, shifting our

hips and settling his cock thickly between my thighs, his searing stare

meeting mine. “We come together,” he says, and then presses inside me,

stretching me, filling me, and I can barely breathe for the pleasure. I’d

thought I’d wanted the sweet bliss his tongue had promised but in this

moment, I know I did not. This is what I want. Together. He is where I need

him but he does not move. He holds us there, his hands firmly on my hips,

his shaft deep in my sex, and challenges me with, “What do you want,

Amy?”

“Everything,” I pant. “You. I want you.”

His eyes darken, and he leans in, bringing our mouths a breath apart.

“Everything?”

It is a question and a demand, and in this moment, perhaps in every

moment since I met him, there is only one answer. “And more.”

He does not move. We do not move. There is a spike of energy

between us, a shift that I have never experienced, and do not understand,

but it is like a wicked burn in my body, a craving unsatisfied. “More,” he

echoes a moment before he kisses me, and I taste the same burn in him,

the same need. He molds me closer, arching into me, and begins to pump

his hips. Time falls away. There is just the wild passion consuming us, and

he is touching me, moving inside me, and I am going crazy with my hands

tied. I want to touch him. I need to touch him.

He is on edge too, his grip tightening around my hips, his face buried

in my neck, and with a guttural moan, he pushes harder, deeper, and my

sex is one deep pulse around his shaft that begins a wave of pleasure and

spreads through my entire body. I am there. I am falling, tumbling, and

finally, I crash into that sweet spot. He pumps into me again, and I feel the

shudder run through his body, or maybe it is me who is shuddering. I do not

know how long it is before we melt into one another.

He reaches up and unties my hands and my arms fall around his neck.

Liam shifts us and strokes the hair from my eyes. “We aren’t anywhere near

finished. You know that, right?”

“Promise?”

“Oh yeah. I promise. And I never make a promise I don’t keep.”

He shifts his weight and somehow stands up with me still wrapped

around him, him still inside me. I bury my face in his neck, inhale the scent

of him, the prickling of memories trying to surface fading into his words

earlier tonight.
Tell me who’s scaring you and I promise you, Amy, I
will