He leans back and drapes the tie across my eyes, blinding me. “Right now, I want you to concentrate on feeling everything I give you. Nothing else.”

I lift my head, allowing him to secure it behind me. And then the bed dips as his weight is removed, leaving me alone with only the sound of my breathing filling my ears. But it’s not uneven, nervous breathing. The pace of my lungs taking in air is quickened due to the eagerness I’m feeling. I want to experience this with him, everything he’s about to give me in a way I’ve never had. I’m not tense. I’m ready.

So fucking ready.

The sound of movement in the kitchen has me turning my head in that direction.

A cabinet closes.

The soft clink of ice hitting the bottom of an empty glass.

I expect to hear the tap water running next, but I don’t.

I gasp as my ankles are grabbed. My legs are straightened on the bed and then his hands are gone. I strain to listen, looking down the length of my body even though I can’t see anything. I imagine him standing at the foot of the bed, glass in hand as he stares at me. He’s hard. Painfully hard. Stroking himself to ease some of the ache. My grip tightens further as I clench the muscles in my core.

Is it possible to orgasm from anticipation alone? Because I might just be the first.

“Oh, shit.” I jerk when I feel the stark chill of ice on my skin, trailing up the inside of my leg. My legs are spread wider and then his body fills the space between them. I think I know where the ice cube is going. I’m positive actually, but just when I think he’s going to dip it between my legs, he avoids the area entirely.

I feel his free hand wrap around my hip, holding me in place. The ice cube glides over my stomach and up to the crease between my breasts. The heat of his mouth follows the path, warming my skin. I tilt my head up as he moves along my collar bone before circling my nipple.

“Reese.”

I bite my lip to contain myself. I want to squirm. To thrash about because this is almost intolerable.

But I don’t.

I whimper as the ice cube moves over my nipple. The bite of it is severe, but it feels too good for me to protest, especially when his mouth latches on and takes away the chill. He doesn’t moan into my skin like he usually does. He doesn’t give me any sign that he is enjoying this. But I knew he wouldn’t. He warned me I wouldn’t hear him, and apparently, sounds are included.

He moves slightly and I know he’s marking me. I’m familiar with the pull of that spot. Alternating breasts, the pattern is repeated. Cold then warmth, and then the chill is gone, as is the heat of his body over mine. I feel the hair on his legs brush against mine as he shifts, and then his hands are wrapped around my thighs, spreading me open. I figure the ice has been discarded, no longer needed. I wait for the heat of his mouth to press against me. His warm breath. The scorch of his tongue.

“Fuck!” I arch off the bed, almost letting go of the posts when he runs up my length. His tongue is frigid, mimicking the sensation of the ice cube and melting into me just like one. The feeling is overwhelming as he dips inside me, tasting ever inch. His mouth never warms, and I know it’s because the ice is in his mouth, which is confirmed when I feel the sharp edge of the cube press against my clit.

“Holy shit, Reese.”

He dips lower, pressing the ice cube inside me with his tongue. In and out. He’s fucking me with it, driving me toward my climax with this new sensation. I’m barely keeping my composure as my insides become liquid. My thighs are shaking against his head as I try to control my trembling. I’m close, moaning his name and gripping so tightly onto the wooden posts I’m certain they’re about to snap off. Then the chill is gone, followed by the sound of him crunching on the ice. Seconds go by and I think maybe he isn’t going to allow me to come. I take in several deep breaths, feeling my orgasm slip away from me until he buries his face between my legs.

His mouth still has the slightest chill, but his warmth is taking over. He fucks me with his tongue until I’m begging and incoherently pleading with him to make me come. He runs up and down my length, spreading me open with his fingers. His tongue swirls around my clit, flattening against it then flicking it in that rhythm I like. I’m once again right at the brink of orgasm and he knows it. He must, because that’s the moment he chooses to prop my ass up with his hands and lick along my rim.

“Oh, shit! Wait, wait, don’t…oh, God, just… Reese, I don’t…unghhhh.”

He’s never done this to me. The only time he’s ever gone anywhere near my ass is with his finger. I clench out of reflex; it’s automatic. He shouldn’t be there with this tongue, and it definitely shouldn’t feel this amazing.

Right?

Wrong. So fucking wrong.

He’s licking me like he works my pussy, and it feels unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My heart is thundering in my chest as I replay his words to me over in my head.

“Right now, I want you to concentrate on feeling everything I give you. Nothing else.”

So I do. I concentrate on this new sensation, blocking out my instincts and not letting any anxiety overpower me. I feel his hands shift, one elevating me while the other moves around my waist. At the brush of his fingers against my clit, I lose it. I throw my head back, screaming his name until my voice breaks. And then I feel him press against me with his tongue, slipping inside, and my orgasm stretches out, rocking me with a blinding intensity. Paralyzing me. I feel shattered. Stripped of all coherence.