by Marie James
“With modesty?” I tease since he demanded this very thing in the elevator before.
His lip twitches, his cock jumping between us, and I don’t know where to focus my attention at the moment.
Instead of giving me another command, he reaches for me, hands traveling up my sides, the thin fabric of my tank top fisted between his fingers. Lifting my arms to assist, my breath hitches when he pulls the shirt over my head. My tits bounce, eager to be released, and I take a half-step closer to him.
He groans, stepping back to increase the distance between us. My shirt flutters to the floor as my nipples harden further.
“Your shorts,” he growls. “Off.”
My thumbs slide into the waist, and I notice the quiver in my palms as I push them down.
“It should be illegal to cover such a perfect pussy around me.” I try to search his eyes, but he’s watching my clothes lower rather than trying to hold my gaze.
That’s when I notice the tremble in his own hands, and what power it gives me to see his own restraint beginning to buckle.
“What now?” I ask, breathless and filled with anticipation when he just stands there taking stock of my body.
“There are a million things I want to do to you,” he whispers. “Maybe even more.”
I shift my weight from foot to foot, anxious for his hands to touch, to roam, to take over and make me his.
“On the bed, legs spread wide.”
I scramble like a mouse has just run across my foot, and his low chuckle at my excitement calms an otherwise tense situation.
I look to him for further instruction once my back is against the headboard.
He hasn’t moved, other than to face me fully. His cock leaks, just as hungry for me as I seem to be for him.
“You said you’ll touch my pussy without permission.” His throat works as his focus lands on the center of me. “And if I tell you to touch it now?”
“Are you?” The fingers of my left hand shake with the need to caress my own skin. Self-pleasure has become an art form recently, but this is different. His eyes on me affect me in more ways than I can count. “Wren?”
He continues to watch, assessing the situation and leaving me hanging. My legs shift, the urgency growing by the second, then his eyes find mine.
“Do you need aggression to come?”
I search his face, but I don’t know how to answer.
“Do you need me to be forceful with you to get you there?”
“If that’s what you wan—”
“No, Whitney. What do you need?”
“I may come the second you touch me,” I confess, not realizing I don’t need any of the things he’s asking about right now. The sexual tension has been building for weeks, and I’m like a dormant volcano that’s somehow built enough pressure to explode at a moment’s notice.
“Do I need to get dressed for you to answer me, Whitney?” he asks, clearly not happy with my non-answer.
The threat of this ending makes me nervous in a bad way, but I can tell he isn’t going to relent.
“Not this time.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “I’m so close already.”
“I haven’t touched you.”
“I know.” God, does my body know that fact.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
“Y-yes.”
“Do you need me to touch you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you do. Are you being greedy?”
My cheeks heat. “Yes.”
“Touch my pussy, Whitney. I want to know what it’s going to look like when I’m away and my needy pussy won’t obey commands.”
I don’t tease. I don’t pause. I don’t waste a second.
“Slowly,” he growls when I go right for the gold.
“I can’t,” I complain, my fingers dipping just an inch inside to gather my arousal before rubbing it over my swollen clit. “Oh, God.”
“You’re breathless already. Slower, Whitney.”
I whimper, wanting to disobey, but knowing the good stuff comes with my compliance.
“Please,” I beg, and for the life of me, I don’t know exactly what I’m asking. Do I want more? Less? Him? Permission? Maybe a combination of all of the above?
Yes, that’s definitely it. I want all of it.
“How close are you?”
“S-so close. Right there.” My entrance quivers, begging my fingers to move faster.
“Stop.”
I cry out at the loss but pull my hands away.
“You could’ve taken it. You could be clenching and coming. Yet your pussy is screaming at you for stopping. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you give in to your body’s demand?”
Tears burn my eyes, but this is the moment I’ve been living for. The buildup of desire. The ability to let someone else command me, and it’s better than I ever imagined. Better than the stories I’ve read online. Better than the videos I’ve seen that took my breath away.
I’ve literally waited my entire life for this moment, and now that it’s here, I want to experience it over and over and over.
“You told me to s-stop. I want to please you.”
And I know by pleasing him, I’m going to come out on top.
“You do, beautiful girl. You please me. How do you want to come?”
“Repeatedly,” I answer without thought. “Over and over and over. On my fingers, your fingers, your tongue, your cock.” My words hitch at the end, my pussy still quivering with a need that’s making it hard to think or talk.
“So fucking greedy. I love it. I love the flush of your skin. The way your pulse is pounding at the base of that delicate neck of yours.”
With each word, each body part he describes, I feel his touch there. I feel him on every inch of my skin even though he’s still several feet away.
His eyes gleam, and no matter the control he’s had, I can see it’s beginning to slip. He isn’t playing malicious games, no matter how much my mind is trying to convince me that I’m a toy and going to be left wanting. He’s right here with me, building himself up the same way he’s taunting me. This won’t end with any level of dissatisfaction. The only question is if it’s going to destroy me.
“As you wish,” he whispers, coming closer, his knee bending so he can press it into the mattress at my side. “Fingers first.”
“R-Really?”
“Make it quick before I change my mind.”
“Please don’t,” I whisper, but a millisecond later, my fingers are right back at the apex of my thighs. “May I come?”
“Yes.”
I see fucking stars. My legs shake. My brain blanks. My arms and legs lock in place.
Yep, he’s going to destroy me.
“Fuck, baby.”
Then my hand is being tugged away, and I snarl like a wild animal because stopping this train now would be a torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
But then his mouth is there, lapping, sucking, nipping, and my orgasm is renewed with a fire I feel in my soul.
My fingers tangle in his hair as my hips roll against his mouth. He doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t chastise my response.
He groans into my flesh, tongue moving against the most sensitive parts of me until I have to shove him away.
“Please, please, please,” I pant.
He doesn’t stop, and all I feel is sensation. His fingers invade me in the most delicious way, and he gives me the first three things I wanted.
My fingers.
His fingers.
His mouth.
I never knew it would all happen at once. I never knew he’d be able to pull it off.
“No more,” I hiss when the surfeit of sensitivity becomes too much.
“Fuck,” he mumbles as he pulls his mouth away.
I want to keep my eyes closed, but my heart demands the connection to him. His mouth, lips puffy and slick, draw my attention.
“Fuck me,” I plead.
His face falls, and I instantly regre
t my request. Doubt swims inside of me.
“I need…”
God, I’d give him anything at this point, just to see his smile. His commanding voice would be okay, too, but he frowns, pulling back from me. The warmth of his body is automatically filled with a coldness that sends chills down my spine.
“I did something wrong.”
My jaw clamps shut when I realize I spoke these words out loud.
“No.” He puts more distance between us. “No, baby. You did everything right.”
His eyes fall to the comforter.
“I—it was too much. I just—”
I follow his gaze, biting my lip to keep from giggling like a fool when I see the stain on his otherwise pristine blanket.
“You came.”
It’s his face’s turn to redden. His hand scrapes over the top of his head. “I swear to God this has never happened before.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I lift my eyes from the wet spot to look at his face.
“That’s the biggest compliment I’ve ever been given.”
“Really?” He sounds doubtful. “I’m so fucking embarrassed.”
“Because you enjoyed your pussy so much your body couldn’t take it?”
His flagging cock jerks with my words, and the desire still filling his eyes tells me this reprieve isn’t going to last very long.
“Careful,” he warns, but the small grin on his face says he likes my teasing.
It reminds me of the way he rocked my world with a single kiss and a wink before promptly tripping when he got on the elevator a while back. It proves he’s human, not infallible, and that makes me trust this even more.
“Need my mouth?”
“No,” he answers swiftly.
He’s like The Flash and Houdini all in one as he moves toward his discarded clothes on the floor and produces a condom. Just as fast, the latex is rolled down his cock, and he’s climbing on the bed between my still splayed thighs.
“Are you ready?” His fingers tangle in my hair, my head following his hand as he tugs it backward to expose my neck.
His teeth find the delicate skin, and even after the orgasm I just had, my body demands more. More touches. More skin. More teasing. More everything.
He doesn’t disappoint.
The second I’m able to pant, “Yes,” he slides inside of me.
There’s no fumbling, no repositioning, none of the embarrassment that pinked his cheeks earlier.
We both sigh, finally fulfilled when he finds the end of me.
“Oh my God,” he breathes into my neck.
“I know,” I agree. “I know.”
His hips roll, my name a chant on his lips, and I was right when I answered him earlier. Right now, I don’t need anything but him. I don’t need the commands or the aggression. I don’t need a show of force or filthy words.
Just this. This is all I need.
“Wren,” I groan when his hips swivel, his cock managing to hit the best parts of me.
“Not going to last,” he hisses, hips moving faster, thrusts becoming harder.
“Yeah,” I say in agreement even though it makes no sense.
Nothing makes sense for me right now. Not gravity or life. Not science or religion. Absolutely nothing.
On instinct, my legs move to surround him, but he has other ideas. I don’t realize he’s commanding me without words until my knees rest in the crooks of his elbows and I’m spread wide. His eyes find mine as he drives into me over and over, his perfect cock hitting that perfect spot.
“Am I going to make you come?”
I nod, my throat too restricted on a trapped moan to form words.
“That’s my girl. Make it count.” He shoves in again, and my eyes flutter closed. “Take it.”
And God do I.
I take all of it. All of his cock. All of the sensation. All of the pleasure.
My body licks at him, sucking him deeper. Tiny muscles flutter and clench.
“Jesus, fuck,” he pants, thrusting in two more times before freezing above me.
The pulse of his cock fights the throbbing of my body, and it’s the most amazing beat I’ve ever felt.
Words aren’t spoken when he falls to the mattress and pulls me against his chest.
It has to be the endorphins because it’s too soon to be falling for this man.
Chapter 29
Wren
When I was thirteen, heaven was finally saving enough money from mowing lawns to buy my very first game system.
At eighteen, heaven was graduating high school knowing I’d never have to step foot in such an institution again.
At twenty-two, heaven was being recruited and subsequently hired by Deacon Black.
Heaven has transformed and taken on new faces my entire life.
But at twenty-six, waking up with Whitney Nelson in my arms will be the only heaven I’ll ever seek out again.
She’s the holy grail, the end-all be-all for me.
Despite the things going on in her life, despite the fact that we still have more to learn about each other than what we know, there’s absolutely nothing better than the way she shifts in her sleep to get closer. Okay, maybe those little moans she makes when her naked body rubs against mine is heaven.
Deciding it’s the entire package and not just one single thing about her, I hold her tighter.
“We’re going to have to get out of this bed eventually,” I whisper when her breathing shifts and I know she’s awake.
Today can’t be awkward, but I don’t know exactly how to handle this situation. Not once in my life have I woken up with someone in my bed much less my arms.
“No.”
One simple word and she moves closer, something I thought was an impossibility considering she’s plastered against me.
“No?”
She shakes her head, the movement of her cheek on my chest a tease I don’t think she’s ready for. My cock has been hard for her nearly all night, and once, a couple hours after falling asleep, I gave in to the call. The second time included more commands, filthy demands on my part and another shared orgasm that left my sight a little blurry.
“I can’t move.”
“Are you sore?”
Her beautiful face tightened up last night when I pulled free of her the second time, and I’ll feel like an asshole for not reading the right signs.
“A little,” she whispers, her fingers holding me tighter.
With gentle hands, I press against her shoulder so I can look her in the eye.
“You have to tell me when I hurt you, Whitney. This doesn’t work if we’re not honest with each other.”
“I know.” Her eyes fall, but I urge them back up with a crooked finger under her chin.
“Why are you hiding from me? I hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” She swallows. “I’m a little sore.”
Her eyes drop again.
“Tell me.”
“I kind of like it.”
The tips of her ears turn red, and I try to hide my smile. It’s impossible at this point. We’ve been in each other’s arms for hours and that kind of control requires distance.
“Yeah?” She nods, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. “You like feeling me inside of you long after I’m gone?”
“Does that make me naughty?”
“So naughty.”
I want to grab her ass and force her face into my pillows. I want to pound into her until I’m certain she’ll feel the echo of my cock for days, but I don’t. There’s plenty of time for all of that.
I held her last night, letting our mutual exhaustion from the day take over, and I neglected to care for her. Yeah, she assured me she was okay. Fantastic was her actual response, but instead of turning on the lights and making sure with her looking at me rather than falling for her just a little more when she sighed and buried her face in my neck, I held her until we both fell asleep.
“We need to get up,” I repeat.
She’s
sore and needs to be taken care of, and even though I wouldn’t fuck her again this morning, I’m considering her mouth a little too hard right now with her pressed against me all naked, warm, and soft.
“Let’s go.” I throw the covers off, smacking her ass with a heavy hand when she doesn’t get in any sort of rush to climb off of me.
She squeals but doesn’t get out of bed. This vixen decides now is the best time to swivel her hips. The power move would normally force me into action, making her understand that I’m still in charge, but the slickness of her center on my thigh is almost enough for me to give in.
“You’re sore, and I need a shower.”
She pouts as I climb out from under her. When I look back at her, my resistance begins to crumble. Jesus, she looks right at home in my bed, and it makes me wish that all of this shit wasn’t coming to an end tonight. I want her here every day.
“Keep looking at me like that and all I’m going to do is fuck your throat.”
She grins. “Okay.”
“Shower. Now, Whitney.”
Her smile fades when she moves, pain marking her gorgeous features. I grab her around the waist before she can slide past me into the bathroom.
“How sore?”
“Just a little.”
“Let me see.”
She squirms when I begin to drop to my knees. I’m a lot to handle, and it was clear the second I pushed inside of her last night that she was going to have a hard time with my size. Dammit, I should’ve checked in on her or kept my greedy hands to myself in the middle of the night.
“Don’t!” She swats at my fingers as I try to lift one leg to get a better look. “I’m fine.”
“Let me—”
“Wren!” she screeches. “Stop!”
My hands fall away immediately, and I stand to face her. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine.” My jaw clenches. I don’t know much about women, but I know this is the equivalent to a death threat. “Just a little sore. You’re taking all of the charm out of our night together. I don’t need you getting a bird’s-eye view of my pussy. It’s not sexy.”
“You saying pussy is sexy,” I tease, the smile returning to her lips exactly the way I hoped for. “I’ll run you a bath.”
“Will you join me?” she asks, clamping her fingers around my hand when I reach for her.
