Trust Me (58 page)

“So
delicious,” he whispered, dripping the sauce over the top of her labia, allowing a few drops to filter between. Sandra moaned deeply, feeling the cold liquid spread across her, melting against her warmth. Creighton once again leaned over her, licking the sensitive flesh, spreading her labia and gently cleaning the sweet liquid off her moist body.

“Now,
I will restrain you,” he told her, chuckling as she breathed her agreement.

Creighton
walked to his bags and removed the feline mask and cuffs, returning to the bed and attaching a set to the foot of the frame. Sandra spread her legs apart for him, raising her arms above her head as he carefully lifted one foot, kissing the sole of her foot and running his tongue along the sensitive pad before fastening it to the bed and moving on to the next one, repeating the same intriguing action. Once her feet were restrained, he reached for the syrup and dotted it across his initials again.

 
“We’re going to see how much resistance you have left,” he told her, watching the shocked expression cross her face, her arms still stretched out above her head. He squeezed the brown bottle gently and smiled as a larger stream flowed from the tip; trailing it up across her torso to her nipples, covering her areolas with the sticky substance.

Creighton
leaned down between her legs and began to lick the syrup off her labia, using the flat surface of his tongue as he glided it up her body, moaning as his mouth filled with the delicious mixture of salty and sweet.

Sandra
felt completely exhausted, trying to hold still, but she was quickly losing the battle. When his mouth reached her breast, covering over it and sucking the delicate flesh deep inside, she lost her resistance and began to writhe beneath his touch, causing him to chuckle and move to the next breast, offering the same torture to it.

“Can’t
handle any more, can you?” he asked looking into her passionate eyes. Sandra shook her head wordlessly; she wasn’t sure if she could find the right words to beg him to restrain her.

“Are
you too tired to continue?” She shook her head. “Good. Then let’s get you tethered down and really make a mess of your lovely body.” Creighton leaned across her and secured her wrists to the bed then took the blindfold, smiling wickedly as he slid it across her eyes.

“No
more watching for you,” he teased, kissing her lips gently. Sandra drew a deep breath and steadied herself, actually feeling much more comfortable with the cuffs on.

“Ready
to go again?” he asked gently and she nodded.

The
cool drips fell to her breasts again and she gasped, squirming as his tongue traced the delicate outline of her areola, nipping and suckling her nipple, making her moan. More cool sticky liquid on the opposite breast followed by the heat of his tongue, again the drizzle of the thick syrup spelled out the initials and again, the hard tip of his tongue. The bed sank next to her under his weight and she heard a strange hissing noise, gasping as cold foam sprayed across her breasts, down her torso to settle onto her hairless junction.

“Nothing
like a whipped cream bikini to excite a man’s appetite,” he chuckled.

“I
didn’t know it took dessert foods to turn you on,” she teased. “I thought it was nudity.”

“I
get a woody just thinking about you.” Sandra moaned as he began to lick the cream off her breasts, one at a time before moving lower on her sticky body.

“Hungry?”
he asked as his finger move across the first letter; then sweet foam touched her lips and she eagerly opened her mouth, sucking on his digit as he slipped it into her mouth, smiling as he moaned.

“More?”
he asked and she nodded, feeling the strong finger gently trace the W then press against her lips again, allowing her to suck the cream off it.

Creighton
leaned over her and began licking off the melting foam, causing her to moan deep in her throat. His tongue dipped between her labia, tasting and teasing the delicate bud of her clitoris, his teeth grazing the swollen nub until she felt mindless and dizzy, then he stopped suddenly, leaving her hanging on the edge of release, and she groaned with regret.

“Still
hungry?” he asked her and she heard him shake the can, feeling the bed shake with his exertion. Sandra nodded, listening to the spray, but didn’t feel it. She was sticky everywhere, but the cool sensation just wasn’t there. Then the bed moved as he straddled her chest, his hands reaching up and releasing her cuffs, the hard warm tip of his penis pressed against her lips and she tasted the sweet cream on the head. She reached toward him, her hands caressing his strong buttocks as her tongue licked the length of him, smiling as he moaned.

“Oh,
Sandra,” he gasped, pressing the length of his shaft into her mouth as he leaned over her, bracing his hands on the headboard. She began to slowly suckle him, allowing him to stroke in and out of her throat as he moaned again.

“I
don’t want it this way,” he moaned deeply and moved away, slipping the mask from her eyes. “I need you my love,” he told her, his mouth pressing against hers for a few heated moments, before he moved down and released her ankles, stretching out across her sticky body, pressing her to the mattress.

He
lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist as he dove into her, moaning at the warm welcoming she offered him. Almost instantly the dizziness filled her soul causing her lower regions to tingle. She lifted her legs higher, her hips pressing against him tighter, taking him in further and immediately cried out her release as he hardened within her, growling savagely while he spilled his seed into the dark spaces beyond.

A
few hot moments passed as his lips kissed the delicate flesh beneath her earlobe, down her neck to her collarbone, causing her to sigh contently beneath him.

“We
need to get cleaned up before we’re permanently glued together,” she told him.

“I
could think of worse things in life,” he told her with a deep chuckle, kissing her briefly before crawling off the end of the bed, pulling her up with him.

“I
used to think spotted dicke was my favorite dessert, but I’ve just changed my mind. I found a delightful chocolate and cream
Peinture de carrosserie
that is now my favorite dish.”

“What,
may I ask, is a spotted dicke?” she asked with an amused expression as he gathered the sticky brown streaked towel together and walked into the bathroom beside her.

“It’s
a custard dessert, really quite good. I think you’d like it, especially the way my mum makes it.”

“I
don’t want to eat anything called a spotted dicke. It sounds more like something a doctor needs to look at.”

“Very
funny, Miss Dennis,” he said gently slapping her bare bottom. Sandra giggled, turned on the faucet to the shower and stepped in.

She
never realized that playing with food could be so much fun and even though she hadn’t shared very much, it was exciting and intriguing, but then again everything the man showed her held a degree of the undiscovered, and like Lewis and Clark, she was eager to explore this new territory, known as Creighton Ashford.

Sandra
sat on the sofa the next day, reading Miriam’s book as Creighton lay napping with his head on her lap. It was such a comfortable feeling; doing normal everyday activities with this man. They had slept in until a little after ten and ate a late breakfast of cheese, croissants, poached eggs and sliced ham. Creighton said they were meeting Aryana and Daniel later that afternoon after their doctor’s appointment; which left them several hours to relax and enjoy each other’s company.

Creighton called The Don and argued with him for nearly fifteen minutes; trying to convince him to come to Paris to speak with his daughter, but to no avail. He refused and said he would not come to her; she was the one to come back and the one to explain and apologize for her behavior.

It had been well over a week since she sat down and read and she found herself enjoying it immensely, even though Miriam’s book was filled with perverted memories of her past. She had just finished a chapter that she found of great interest when Creighton stirred awake and smiled up at her, yawning and stretching like a contented cat on a warm windowsill.

“Sleep
well?” she asked.

“Very.
I could sleep on you forever. I can’t believe you’re still reading,” he teased, sitting up next to her on the sofa. “How long have I been out?”

“About
an hour; this is quite a unique book. I think you’d find it interesting as well. Miriam wrote about you.”

“What
the hell?” he said with a deep frown.

“She
didn’t mention you by name, but she definitely wrote about you and your brother Andrew. Listen,” she said and began reading out loud:

By
Dr.
Miriam
Bachmeier
Chapter
four

My
First
Encounter

Growing
up
German
in
a
farming
community
of
Northern
England
was
not
much
fun
for
a
motherless
girl.
I
had
no
females
around
to
ask
my
questions
or
to
teach
me
the
things
a
normal
girl
was
supposed
to
know.
I
didn’t’
know
how
to
sew; I
could
cook
but
that
was
out
of
necessity
and
never
anything
elaborate,
and
I
didn’t
understand
my
own
body
when
it
began
to
change.
There
were
always
female
neighbors,
but
my
father
did
not
allow
me
to associate
with
them.
He
didn’t
want
them
to
persuade
me
with
their
British
ideas.

My
father
was
a
good
man,
for
the
most
part,
just
very
protective.
He
kept
a
close
eye
on
me
when
I
was
at
home
and
had
me
on
a
very
short
leash.
However,
I
did
have
a
secret
hideaway
that
he
didn’t
know
about.
We
had
a
barn
on
our
property
that
was
very
old
and
in
danger
of
collapsing.
Because
of
this,
my
father
would
never
store
equipment
in
it
or
use
it
for
the
animals
and
forbade
me
from
entering
it.
Little
did
he
know
I
had
set
up
a
secret
spot
in
the
hayloft
where
I
would
explore
my
developing
body
in
private.
If
he
had
known,
I
would
have
been
beaten
severely.