There was one very good benefit to having her eyes blindfolded, Ella thought. That was that she couldn't see Terrence and thus had to rely on her hands to feel her way to where she wanted them to be. And where she could slip her hands onto his bare skin--under his shirts, at his neck, just below his trousers--she let her nails guide the way.
Lying on her back on the desk, she gasped at his hands on her. She'd been absolutely dying for this all night and the grip his teeth held on her neck only served to make a fire erupt within her, maker her ache for him, for some kind of relief.
Her hands felt their way to his suit jacket and moved beneath it to push it back and off of him, her fingers running against it, taking in the amplified texture of it. She couldn't tell if her overly sensitive nerve endings were a result of the blindfold or what Terrence was currently doing to her or the culmination of the thoughts of that evening.
Her next task was his belt and, oh Merlin, if she didn't love him in this ensemble so much, she'd steal the clothes for herself. It was a rare moment when, while he was wearing this particular suit, that she didn't want to absolutely tear into him immediately. She got the buckle undone and pulled it through the loops of his trousers, wrapping the stiff leather around her hands.