Escaping Reality

“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