The Pleasure Series: Complete Box Set

by M. S. Parker

  I still wasn't sure where he was going with this.

  “But part of being a good Dom.” He kissed me again, this time a little harder. His teeth scraped across my bottom lip and I moaned. “Part of being a good lover is wanting to give your partner as much pleasure as possible. I don't want to only do the things I want and hope you like them.”

  I'd given men instructions before, about what to do and how to do it, but generally only while we were having sex. And it was always me telling them, never them asking. I wasn't sure how to have a conversation like that.

  “Please, Jenna,” he said. “Tell me something you like.” His voice held that edge of authority that I responded to.

  He'd shared his kinks with me, then let me put restrictions on what he could do. He made me come harder than anyone I'd ever been with and here he was wondering if I was merely tolerating the things he did.

  “I like it a bit rough,” I admitted and tried not to blush. “All the things you said you wanted to do to my breasts, I want.” I looked up at him. “Everything you said.”

  “Don't just say it–” he began.

  “I'm not,” I said firmly. I reached behind me and unzipped my dress, but didn't let it fall. “Do you want me to show you?”

  “Show me,” he ordered. He shrugged out of his jacket as he crossed the room. He draped it over the X and then took a seat in a chair I hadn't noticed before. It was wide and plush, about halfway between a love seat and an armchair.

  I let go of my dress and it dropped to the floor. I stepped out of it, then out of my shoes.

  “On the bed,” he instructed.

  I climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows so Rylan would be able to watch. When I was settled, I unclasped the single front hook and let my bra fall open. I'd seen desire in a lot of men's eyes, but it had never made me wet before.

  “Show me what you like.”

  I cupped my breasts, then pinched my nipples between my fingers. A jolt of pleasure went through me. I rolled the hardening flesh, pulling and tugging on them. Rylan's eyes darkened to near-black as the tips of my nipples became hard bullet points.

  “I like teeth,” I said softly. I twisted my nipple and moaned. “I want your mouth on me.”

  “What do you want my mouth to do?” He began unbuttoning his shirt.

  I flicked my nipples. “Lick, suck, bite.” I slid one hand down my stomach toward my panties.

  “No touching yourself,” he said as he stood. “We'll get there, but not yet.”

  I resumed playing with my breasts, watching as he walked over to one of the dressers. He opened the top drawer, rummaged around for a moment, then pulled something out. He held them up as he turned. They were small and not the shining metal I'd pictured.

  “We'll start with something simple.” He came toward me. “These are rubber. If you like them, we can work up to metal.”

  He set the clamps next to me and took off his shirt. My pussy throbbed as I watched him undress. He had the most amazing body.

  His cock was already mostly hard as he joined me on the bed, but he ignored it. His eyes were focused on my breasts. He settled himself into what I assumed was a more comfortable position and then lowered his head.

  His lips latched onto my nipple and I moaned. He felt amazing. Wet heat and perfect suction, each pull of his mouth sending pleasure straight through me. His fingers began manipulating my other nipple, picking up where I'd left off. My back arched as his teeth scraped over my sensitive flesh. I wanted more.

  When he switched to my other breast, his hand moved too, though not to my free breast. Instead, it made its way down my stomach and cupped my pussy over my panties.

  He looked up at me. “You're wet.”

  “Soaking,” I breathed.

  Without taking his eyes off of me, he slid his hand beneath the waistband of my panties. I moaned as his fingers parted my folds and brushed over my clit. He grinned at me, then lowered his mouth. Even as he rubbed across the little bundle of nerves, he bit down on my breast.

  “Fuck!” I cried out. I felt him hesitate and looked down at him. “Again, please.”

  That was all the encouragement he needed. His teeth and lips moved across my flesh, marking the paler part of my breasts and making my nipples throb. His fingers kept up their steady pressure and delicious friction before dropping down to slide a finger into my dripping pussy. As he added a second finger, he bit down on my nipple and I felt everything inside me explode.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I slammed my palms on the bed even as I ground down against his hand. Pain and pleasure coursed through me. Not the kind of pain that had made up my childhood, but the kind that I'd always craved, even more than I'd allowed myself to admit.

  When I came down from my orgasm, I saw that he had already gotten out a condom and put it within arm's reach. He held up the clamps and I nodded. My breasts were already aching, but I wanted it.

  He fastened the first one on and I gasped. If my nipples hadn't already been sensitized from his mouth, it would've just been a dull pressure at first. Instead, it was closer to a pinch, but not one that let up. He attached the other and then moved to the base of the bed.

  I parted my legs without asking, then realized that I was still wearing my sheer black panties. Rylan didn't seem to mind as he stretched out between my legs. He didn't say a word as he pulled the crotch of my panties aside and pressed his mouth against me.

  I swore as his tongue began to dance, twisting and licking up and down every inch of me. I writhed, every movement jarring the clamps and sending mixed pain and pleasure straight from my nipples to my core. Sometimes guys played with my breasts while they went down on me. More often, I did it myself, but either way, it was nothing compared to this.

  “Shit!” I cursed again when his lips closed around my clit. He sucked on it even as he slid two fingers back inside me. I'd never had two orgasms so close together, but I could feel my second one building.

  Then, he curled his fingers and pressed against a spot inside me that made everything go white. I dimly heard myself make a high pitched sound that I'd never made before, but all I could think about was the pleasure coursing through me.

  I was still coming when I felt his cock pushing inside me. My eyelids fluttered as he stretched me. He wasn't going too fast, but he certainly wasn't going slow either. I looked up at him, our eyes locking. I could see what he wanted and I wanted it too. I nodded.

  Rylan's hips snapped forward, driving the rest of him deep inside me.

  “Fuck! Yes!”

  He lifted my legs, placing my ankles on his shoulders. “If it's too much...”

  “I'll say the words,” I promised. “Please, just fuck me.”

  He leaned forward slightly, changing the angle of penetration and moving him even deeper. I gasped. The sound turned into a wail as he drew back, then slammed into me again. He didn't hesitate, trusting me to keep my word. He pounded into me, each thrust making my breasts shake and the clamps tug at my now-numb nipples. He was so hard inside me I thought for sure he would need to come soon, but his pace was steady, and he showed no signs of slowing.

  His hands slid over mine, his gaze telling me to trust him. He laced his fingers through mine, not restraining, not holding. It was a strangely intimate gesture in the midst of sex that was anything but gentle.

  Not gentle, but fucking amazing.

  My entire body felt like it was on fire, electricity coursing through my veins, across my nerves. Then I was exploding, erupting, coming so hard that I couldn't make a sound. Still, he didn't stop. Time lost all meaning. The entire world was only him moving in and out of me, the tip of him bumping against the end of me and making me see stars. My body shook, trembled, every muscle twitching and tensing. Even as my pussy squeezed his cock, he kept going.

  And then his fingers tightened on mine and I knew he was finally close.

  He released my hands and I knew what was coming next.

  Without missing a stroke, he t
ook hold of both of the clamps and pulled them off at the same time.

  Blood rushed back into my nipples, bringing with it the pins and needles feeling of a limb gone to sleep. In a body part so sensitive, it was multiplied by a thousand and I grabbed his arms, my nails digging into his flesh.

  My legs dropped to either side of him as he pulled me up against him, burying himself deep inside me. We came together, the orgasm that had been lingering inside me crashed into me with enough force to take my breath away. My nipples rubbed against his chest and I whimpered, but I still clung to him as I felt his cock pulsing inside me.

  His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “I love you.”

  I pressed my face against his chest, tears pricking at my eyes. I wanted so badly to say it back, but I couldn't. Not yet.

  As if he could read my mind, he spoke again, “It's okay. I'll wait.”

  His words only made me want to say it more. But he was right. When I said it, I wanted him to know it was the truth.

  When, not if. When.

  Chapter 16

  I stayed the night and we spent it in Rylan's bed. After a long, hot shower and some even hotter shower sex, of course. The sight of water cascading down his body, the feel of his skin sliding against mine, would be masturbatory fantasies for a long time. Then again, every encounter I'd had so far with Rylan was better than any fantasy I could cook up on my own.

  Monday morning, he asked if I wanted to either drive one of his cars or have a driver take me in so we didn't arrive together. Then he proceeded to go down on me until I had to beg him to stop.

  He drove, I rode, and we came to the agreement that we wouldn't advertise our relationship, but we weren't going to be crazy about covering it up either. Taking two separate vehicles seemed a bit extreme. Still, we made sure we didn't walk in close together. Professional distance. No touching. No lingering looks.

  Well, maybe a couple when it came to the last one. As we went through the week, we were working enough that we didn't have time for dates, just late night calls, and that made it harder not to look at him through the day. Watching Emmaline fawn over him and trying to keep Christophe at bay didn't help matters much either.

  I wasn't jealous of Emmaline, not after this past weekend and the way Rylan had looked at me, but her entitlement attitude and high school cattiness still made me want to punch that smug smile off her face. Or tell her about what an extraordinary lover Rylan was. Just to see the look on her face.

  Christophe was only a little less annoying. He was constantly there, hovering around my office, asking me if there was anything he could get me. I appreciated the gestures and I didn't want to be rude to him since he'd never been anything but nice to me, but it was annoying to have to keep telling him that I was fine, that I didn't need anything.

  I could've lied, I supposed, and told him that I was seeing someone. He had seen the flowers already. Well, telling him I was seeing somebody wouldn't have been a lie, but once he started asking about whom I was dating, that was when the lies would begin. While I was okay with keeping my relationship with Rylan quiet, I didn't want to start a whole web of lies that I'd have to try to keep track of. Aside from the fact that I didn't want that headache, I also knew it'd make things more complicated if and when Rylan and I went public. When, I told myself. It would be when, not if. He said he would wait as long as I needed, and I couldn't imagine opening myself up to any other man. It was him or no one. Not really a positive thought, but not exactly a negative one either.

  At least my work didn't suffer. What did suffer was my level of sexual tension. There was only so much self-gratification I could take and, by Thursday, I was strung too tight for just my fingers to take care of. All day, I'd been debating whether or not to take the initiative and ask Rylan about his plans for after work, but then I'd gotten his text that Zeke needed him for something and he didn't know when he'd be able to talk.

  I refused to be that selfish girlfriend who complained when her man wanted to spend time with his friends, especially when said friend already didn't like her. I sent a reply that I hoped everything was okay and that if he wanted to call tonight, it didn't matter the time, and if he didn't, I'd talk to him tomorrow at work.

  Then I decided that I needed to go to the gym and work off some of this excess energy. Not too long ago, I would've hit a club or checked out one of the finals parties that were going on around campus, found some hot, horny guy and ridden him to an orgasm that now seemed unsatisfying. I wasn't even tempted to look for another sexual outlet.

  The fact that I was so willing to change the habits I'd established over the last couple years spoke volumes. Rylan had called me his girlfriend and I'd been thinking of him as my boyfriend. He'd said he loved me. But, we hadn't discussed what that really meant. The kind of expectations we had of each other. What was our view of exclusivity? When would we expect the other to choose us over family? Not that I had that decision to make for myself, but it was one of those things I assumed couples talked about.

  Yet another problem I'd been experiencing more this week as I spent less time with Rylan. He didn't just make me feel safe and give me toe-curling orgasms. He kept my mind from dwelling on the past, kept the questions from running over and over again in my head. When I was with him, I could live in the present and not worry about the future. For the most part anyway. My busy brain didn't like to give up much.

  I headed to the bus stop after work. I'd need to stop home for better clothes to work out in, maybe grab something to eat. I shivered as a gust of wind came down the sidewalk. It was heading toward Christmas and the weather was starting to show it. We hadn't gotten our first snow yet, but the nights were definitely getting colder.

  As I joined a few others in the bus stop shelter, I shivered again, but this time it wasn't from the cold. I turned, but there was no one behind me. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

  I pushed the paranoia back. It happened from time to time. I'd feel like someone was watching me, but when I'd look, there would be no one there. The times when there were people caught staring, they'd generally look away, embarrassed, and I'd know that they were looking because of my hair or my tattoos and piercings. I didn't care about that. Hell, I expected it.

  My therapist probably would've said that was the reason why I dressed and accessorized the way I did. Typical misdirection or something like that. Draw people's attention to the things I could control to prevent anyone from seeing the things I couldn't.

  I hadn't taken any psychology classes in college. I didn't want to relive the memories I knew those classes would bring up. Instead, anything that I wanted to know about, I studied on my own. Probably how I knew what my therapist would say even though I hadn't seen her in years.

  The bus was only a fraction warmer than the air outside, but now I wasn't thinking about the weather. I was working on keeping an eye on everyone who got onto the bus. I was about ninety-nine percent certain that I'd been imagining things, but I wasn't going to take any chances.

  The feeling faded to the back of my mind when I reached my apartment and I ran up the stairs to warm myself up. I quickly changed into my usual workout clothes, grabbed a protein bar and some water. I ate standing up, stretched and then headed back downstairs. The gym I used was only a couple of blocks away from my apartment and a jog in the cold sounded like a good way to start my workout, as well as a good way to clear my head.

  One of the things I liked about exercise and that had made me want to go the self-defense route rather than with weapons is that physical activity was one of the few things that could turn off my brain. The mindless repetition of one foot in front of the other, the steady thump-thump of my feet against the pavement, they were things I could use as a type of self-hypnosis to quiet the chaos.

  I'd picked this gym not only because it was close to my apartment, but because it was small and everyone pretty much kept to themselves. If people wanted to socialize while they worked out, they we
nt to the college gym or one of those bright, shiny ones where it was all machines and fitness instructors. Here, I showed my ID and they left me alone.

  I'd already run and warmed up. Now, I wanted to hit something. I didn't do the whole spinning or Pilates thing. I was more of a tape up my hands and beat the shit out of a punching bag kinda person when it came to working out.

  Since it was a weeknight, there were only a couple other people in the gym and they were completely absorbed in their own routine. I headed to my usual bag and started going through the warm up hits that I'd learned from my self-defense teacher. The sound of my fists hitting against the bag was soothing and I let myself fall into the rhythm. The moves were automatic, adding in kicks between every few hits.

  By the time I finished, I was feeling much better physically. The sexual tension was still there, but it was lower now, much more manageable. I could probably have a full conversation with Rylan about work and not think about ripping his clothes off.

  It was strange, I thought, how I'd gone from never wanting to sleep with someone more than once to not even considering sleeping with anyone else. I supposed my therapist would've said that, because Rylan made me feel safe, I wouldn't want to do anything to risk losing him. A part of me wished that was true. He did make me feel safe, and I didn't want to risk losing him, but that wasn't why I didn't want to have sex with anyone else.

  In the past, I never thought about having sex with someone. It had always been about getting off. A guy was just the means to an end. I'd wanted the physical act, not the person. With Rylan, it was different. I wanted him. Yes, I wanted the sex, but it wasn't the release I craved. It was his body. The feel of his hands on my skin, his lips on mine. The taste and scent of him. It was a hunger inside me, a need that I'd never felt before.

  And I was terrified.

  He loved me. He'd said it and everything he did showed it.