by BETH KERY
He was off like a rocket. He fucked her with smooth, relentless precision, never letting up. She watched him in the mirror for a moment, staring in wonder at the vision of his pistoning cock, pumping hips and the tops of his naked, flexing, round buttocks above the waistband of his white boxer briefs. His face looked rigid and fierce as he watched himself fuck her.
Then the friction grew so intense from his ruthless possession, she no longer was able to focus on his image. He rattled her consciousness. She stared down at the carpet blindly, wailing and gasping, overwhelmed by sensation. It stung a little each time he hammered into her, his pelvis smacking against her spanked bottom, his swollen cock filling her . . . overfilling her.
It dawned on her that he wasn’t just rocking her world in the figurative sense, but in the literal one. He fucked her so hard, his rough grunts and growls raining down on her, that her entire body shook and shot forward with each thrust. His hold on her hips and ass kept her mostly a stationary target, however. He finally paused, his breathing remarkably even, given his strident, rapid movements. She was panting like she’d just run a race. He released her ass and she felt his hands moving on the padded handcuffs at her back. Her arms fell forward, liberated, the cuffs still attached to her right wrist.
“Put your hands on your knees, Eleanor. Support yourself,” he said, his voice sounding harsh in her ringing ears.
When she’d done what he’d demanded, he resumed his assault on her senses, this time with perhaps greater rigor. She was reminded firsthand of his supreme physical condition and raw strength. The sound of him smacking into her body grew so rapid it was like gunfire going off. Was it possible for a man to fuck that fast, that hard . . . that well?
Apparently so.
A scream tore out of her throat as she started to come.
“Jesus, Eleanor. You little—”
She was so lost in a cyclone of pounding sensation, she hardly knew what was happening to her. Suddenly his forearms hooked beneath her elbows and he was lifting her upper body, never stopping in his rapid, fluid thrusts. He pulled her back, leaning down until his front pressed against her shoulders and arching back. He bent his knees beneath her, causing her ass to slap forcefully onto his pelvis and hard thighs as he fucked her. All the while, his cock kept up its relentless thrusting into her captive body.
She felt him swell inside her, and then his deep, rough voice vibrating ominously near her ear.
“I’m going to come in your teasing little pussy now, Eleanor.”
He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and pounded into her with short strokes that jolted her entire body. His growl sounded savage. Thrilling. Days later, she’d recall that tense, electrical moment and become uncontrollably aroused. He roared as he came, holding her immobile for the first blast, and then using his hold on her breast and shoulder to ride her on his cock while he finished. She bounced to and fro, gasping for air, completely and deliciously frayed.
Slowly, his forceful manipulation of her body eased. He finally stopped pumping, some of the palpable tension leaving his corded muscles. She couldn’t get over his strength and stamina. He wrapped his arms around her waist with his cock thrust high. He bent his head, his face against her shoulder. She absorbed the sensation of his warm breath brushing her skin as he panted for air.
ELEVEN
“I think you turned me inside out,” he muttered thickly after a moment next to her shoulder blade.
“You’re telling me. You’re looking at my insides,” she mumbled through numb lips.
He tensed at that, straightening and bringing her with him. His cock slid out of her body.
“No,” she said with exhausted irritability.
“Come here,” he soothed quietly, holding her upper arm and guiding her over to the bed. They fell down heavily onto the mattresses, making the springs squeak in protest. His arm went under her head to her shoulders, and she rolled against him. For a few seconds, they just panted as their bodies recovered and steadied.
Her face pressed against a solid pectoral muscle. As the minutes passed, she became attuned to the rise and fall of his chest and the feeling of his cotton shirt pressed against her nose and lips. Sluggishly, she raised her hand and began to unbutton his shirt. He touched the back of her hand with his fingertips, and for a moment, she thought he was going to try to stop her. He didn’t, though. He just caressed the back of her hand as it moved down his chest and abdomen. She drew open the shirt and ran her hand over the glorious stretch of his nude torso, sliding against his hard abdomen, heaving rib cage and powerful chest. A thin layer of perspiration covered his thick skin. Arousal flickered through her, surprising her a little. All the while, he kept his hand in contact with hers, and she had the weird, random thought that he was experiencing what it was like for her to touch his naked body at that moment. She felt exquisitely attuned to him. She found a small nipple and circled the tip of her forefinger over it, air soughing into her lungs when she felt it pebble.
He gripped her hand tighter in his.
“You’re turning me on again,” he stated, his tone both blunt and vaguely incredulous.
She pulled her hand free of his and came up on her elbow, staring down at him. He looked magnificent lying there, his burnished brown hair mussed, his bronzed, muscular torso exposed, his blue eyes lambent and fierce-seeming in his otherwise utterly relaxed state. She could smell him too, the lingering scent of his aftershave mingling with the musk of his arousal and climax. Wanting to experience his fragrance more, she pressed her nose next to his rib cage and inhaled. He muttered something—she wasn’t sure what—and laced his fingers into her hair.
She ran her fingertip from his collarbone downward, trailing it through the brown hair on his chest and down over his smooth sternum. His heaving rib cage stilled, and she knew he’d held his breath. She liked the way his ridged, flat abdomen jumped beneath her touch. His cock lay at a diagonal along his pelvis and belly, his boxer briefs and jeans still shoved heedlessly at his thighs and beneath his testicles. The condom looked very slick with her juices. Heat swept through her.
He was magnificent.
She could just lie there for hours and touch him, and her fascination would never wane. Mounting arousal might fracture her attention, but boredom?
Never.
She shifted her head, pressing her mouth to the side of his waist. She sunk her teeth gently into smooth skin and dense flesh. He jumped and tightened his fingers in her hair. His skin roughened beneath her lips.
“Take it easy, gorgeous. If you’re that hungry, we’ll order in.”
She grinned, her lips sliding against his skin. She kissed him playfully and rose up over him.
“I am kind of hungry, come to think of it.”
She liked the way his gaze trailed over her face and his small, knowing smile. “Then let’s get something to eat,” he said.
“I’ve got enough to feed an army in the fridge,” she said. “That is if you like either goose or Russian food.”
His brow quirked. “Russian food?”
“Yeah, some pelmeni, bliny, pirog?”
She smiled when he gave her a blank look.
“Dumplings, crepes or a meat pie?” she interpreted. “Along with loads of sour cream, it’s your basic diet for guaranteed clogged arteries.”
“My favorite kind,” he said, turning on his side and propping his head up on his elbow. The action brought him into easier striking distance. She leaned forward and ran her lips along his ribs. He grunted and plunged his fingers back in her hair, scooping it onto her back. “Your hair is ticklish,” he murmured, his fingers continuing to run the length of it. “And very soft.” She made a satisfied sound in her throat and buried her face in a rock-hard pectoral muscle.
“You’re lying. You must eat kale and cabbage, raw fish and steamed chicken to have a body like this,” she said, nuzzling his chest and
squeezing a bulging bicep through his shirtsleeve. “You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? Not that I’m complaining. You look extremely healthy.” Phenomenal, in fact. “But is the weight loss on purpose?”
“It’s just from working out like a madman. Especially lately.” He ran his hand down her naked spine and she sighed next to this skin.
“So you’ve been spending more time at the gym?”
“I have to.”
She lifted her head and gave him a dubious glance.
“Because of my new self-improvement routine. Well . . . my former one, since I’m apparently off it now.” His gaze lowered to her breasts in amused lechery.
“So that’s it? You’re completely off self-improvement, just because you slept with me?”
“You disapprove?” he asked, his voice gruff and low and delicious. He cupped the back of her head warmly. He brought her to him and kissed her mouth. He held her against him, their foreheads pressed together. “In my opinion, you were more than worth it.”
“I shouldn’t be blamed for ruining your self-improvement campaign. There’s no reason why you can’t better yourself and have sex with someone at once,” she insisted against his mouth.
“Maybe for most people. I seem to be the exception,” he said, loosening his hold on her.
“Why?”
He shrugged casually, but his expression was serious. She regretted ruining his mellow, playful mood with her questions, but she was so curious about him.
“I guess because my career has been my absolute focus for the past twelve years. When I did get involved in relationships, they tended to be a sideline to that.”
“A sideline?”
He grimaced. “That sounded bad, didn’t it? I just mean that BandBook, and then TalentNet, took up my whole focus. They became my entire life. Sometimes out of preference, but more often than not, out of necessity. Relationships with women tended to be more about . . .”
“Sex,” she filled in for him.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Sometimes I wanted it to be more than just about that. It just never worked out that way. I’m starting to wonder if it ever will.” She became aware that he was studying her reaction very closely, and made an attempt to wipe the anxiety off her expression. She’d assured him she was fine engaging with him on a purely sexual basis, after all. His gaze narrowed on her. “Are you wondering if I’m a sex addict again?” he demanded.
“No. I never really thought that,” she insisted, laughing. “Really. I wouldn’t be with you if I believed that.”
He looked vaguely pacified. “My relationships do tend to be of the intense, short-lived variety.”
“Wild and out of control, and then they burn themselves out as quickly as they blazed to life?” she asked with false lightness. Kind of like what’s happening with us, for instance? What will happen eventually?
A feeling of dread began to settle on her.
“Pretty much, yeah,” he mused, his fingertips stroking her scalp. “I have to say, though . . . this thing with you is unusual.”
She did a double take. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “If my former relationships could be described as fiery at first, you’re more like an explosion of epic proportions. I can’t believe that fan dance you did,” he mused. He focused on her face. “It was incredible.”
She flushed. “Thanks.”
“You’re so in the moment at times. So present. Really honest.”
She started, guilt sweeping through her. “I am?”
“Yeah. You’re upfront about what you want”—his mouth twisted—“even while you’re manipulating the hell out of me to get it. You’re a little tease, and you totally lose yourself while you’re pushing all my buttons . . . but at least you put it all out there.”
She ducked her head, suddenly afraid he’d see straight through the façade she donned for him with those laser beam eyes of his. He tugged gently on a tendril of her hair, and she was forced to meet his stare.
“Do you date a lot?”
“Are you asking me if I do stripteases a lot?” she asked him, holding his stare, determined not to flinch.
His gaze narrowed. “I’ve told you about my bad luck with women. I was just wondering about your history with men. Is that too intrusive for me to ask?”
“There’ve been some men in my life.” She swallowed thickly. “Not a lot.”
He touched her cheek. She went very still, her skin prickling with awareness beneath his fingertips. “You looked like sex personified doing that dance. You must have . . .” A frown creased his brow. “Practiced it a lot,” he said after a pause, his mouth going hard.
Her breath caught. She didn’t know what to say. He alluded to the fact that she must have done that dance to seduce other men on many prior occasions. If she was the sexual libertine she was pretending to be, and the exhibitionist to boot, she should lay claim to a great deal of practice. Instead, she found herself wanting to tell him it’d been her first time, and he’d been her entire inspiration.
But suddenly he gave a crooked smile. “Never mind. You’re right. I don’t want to know how many times you’ve done that dance. It’s nicer to pretend it was just for me. Besides, I have no right to grill you about your past. Not when I’ve admitted to being ashamed of my track record.”
“Trey—”
He shook his head abruptly, as if to both silence her and clear his thoughts. He shut his eyes. She studied his sober expression. She really liked talking to him. He was interesting, genuine . . . complex. She wanted to know more about him.
The only problem was, it felt like she was navigating a minefield, given the narrow parameters they’d put on their dalliance.
Given her dishonesty in portraying who she really was.
“This issue you’re struggling with when it comes to women is really bothering you, isn’t it?” she asked him cautiously. He didn’t reply for a few a seconds. Finally he opened his eyes.
“It just seems like one minute, I’m having fun with a woman, enjoying her company whenever we’re able to get together, and then . . .”
“She suddenly wants more, and you don’t?”
“More than that. As time goes on, I feel like the mask runs thin, and I don’t like what I see underneath. It gets to the point where a lot of what she says, no matter how nice or seemingly complimentary to me, starts to feel like I’m being tactically maneuvered.”
“And you got sick of that,” she said, full understanding settling. “That’s why you were going cold turkey on sex and relationships.”
“It’s my fault,” he said gruffly after a pause. “Or at least partially. That’s what I’m starting to think. It’s only natural that a woman starts to expect more over time. And more often than not, I just don’t want to give it.”
“Is it? Natural, I mean? For a woman to want more?”
“Isn’t it?”
“You make it sound like it’s some kind of behavior gene linked to the X chromosome,” she said, lying on her back and staring blankly up at the ceiling. “I don’t think that’s true, necessarily.”
“It’s not true for you, that you’ll inevitably want more from a guy the longer the relationship continues?”
“No. It’s not inevitable, anyway,” she insisted. It wasn’t a lie. She’d dated guys whom she’d wanted more with as time went on, but the opposite had occurred as well. With Trey, wanting more might be an inevitability, but that’s not what he’d asked her.
Technically.
Lie or not, their conversation was making her feel a little bereft. Not to mention like more of a fake than ever, given her scheme to don a sexy playgirl persona and fulfill her selfish fantasies.
He exhaled and also flipped over onto his back. “All I know is that I have a tendency to get mixed up with the kind of woman who isn
’t really honest about what she wants in the beginning. When I don’t give her what she needs, she starts to turn manipulative. Underhanded. Dishonest. But maybe you’re right. They probably sense my lack of commitment, my lack of focus on them. That’s why they start acting that way.”
She gave a dry bark of laughter. “I never said that their being manipulative was your fault. I wasn’t trying to make some big point. And you can’t know if I’m right or full of crap. You don’t really know what to think of women, do you?”
“I haven’t got a clue,” he said. He glanced sideways at her. “I’m starting to think I don’t have what it takes, Eleanor.”
A feeling of tenderness for him went through her, such a different, unexpected experience in comparison to the usual sexual hunger and single-minded determination he typically inspired in her.
She reached up and caressed his whiskered jaw.
She turned her head farther on the mattress. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” she said softly.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m not being hard enough.”
“Do you really think you’ll find answers in the pages of Pride and Prejudice?” she asked, a smile tickling at her mouth. She couldn’t help it. He was Trey Riordan, after all, full of confidence, considered a unique path blazer in the fields of business, technology, art and popular culture. He’d just expanded her vision of how she saw herself sexually a thousandfold, not to mention turned her into a mass of quivering sex goo. Yet he seemed genuinely baffled about how to interface with a woman on anything else but a playing field for sex and good times.
“I never said I thought it held some kind of golden key to truth, but I didn’t think it’d hurt to look.”
She chuckled. He gave her a dark glance.
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, reaching to brush back his thick hair. “Your search for something real seems genuine. What’s more, so does your campaign for self-reflection and improvement so that you can be more worthy of finding it. It’s very admirable, actually.” Her smile faded and her stroking fingers paused. Their stares caught and held. “I hope you find what you’re searching for, Trey.”
