Nine Kinds of Naughty

by Jeanette Grey

  “No?”

  “No, I might have to go lower.” But he didn’t. He just traded tits, but shifted his hand to her thigh, sliding along smooth flesh until she spread her legs, opening to him, inviting him in. “What do you think?”

  Her throat bobbed, and she pushed her hips into his touch. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

  “Yeah?” His fingers met her panties and they were as soaked and hot as they had been the night before. “Think I could keep you awake like this?”

  “Dane—Sir—”

  Fuck, he loved to hear her say that.

  It made him bold. It stripped away their day-to-day a little further, and sure, he was still in his suit; she was still in most of hers. But he didn’t ma’am her here, and he didn’t have to do what she—or anyone else—told him he had to.

  He was in charge. His blood sang with the thrill of it.

  And his tongue ran a little wilder. “Could fuck you with my fingers.” He rubbed his knuckles at her through the satin, just enough to get her desperate but not enough to take her over. “Play with your clit. Pretty little pussy would like that, wouldn’t it?”

  “God, yes, please . . .”

  “Get my mouth on you,” he breathed. “Lick all up and down until you’re messy and wet, nice and slick and open for me. Only—”

  He dragged his hand away, and she arched, a high, bereft sound in her throat. Resettling on his hands and knees, he hovered over her. He waited until she opened her eyes, and fuck, he was so glad he had.

  The haziness to her gaze took him that much higher. He soared, drunk on power and on the way she looked at him as if she trusted him. As if she needed him.

  Something clicked into place in his mind. When he spoke, his voice came out darker. Steady. “Only I don’t know if I trust you. Lying there on your back, letting me do all the work? You really think you can stay awake for that?”

  “I’ll try.” A pleading note twisted the words.

  “No,” he said, yanking her hair again, tugging her up as he rose to stand beside the bed. “Take your clothes off.”

  Scrambling, she started with her top. As she tugged it over her head, her breasts spilled out, and he had to press his palm against his cock.

  Fuck, they were fantastic bare. Nice and round and full, more than a handful but not so big he had any doubt that they were real. Her pretty pink nipples called to him, and he curled his fingers tighter around the head.

  Her eyes went wider when she spotted him. He gave himself a good stroke through his clothes, groaning at the low sparks of pleasure. At how it felt to have her watching, looking on and all but panting for it.

  “You want this?” He went for the buckle of his belt, waiting until she nodded. “Keep going.” He gestured at her own state of half undress.

  Not missing a beat, she undid the zipper at the back of her skirt and shimmied it down her thighs. Her underwear went with it, just a flashing glimpse of deep red satin against pale flesh.

  And then she was naked before him, and it was better than he had ever imagined it would be—and he had imagined it a lot. He was struck dumb at the reality, though. For a moment, he almost forgot what he was doing, he was so swept away.

  But not for long.

  “All fours.” The command echoed off the walls, clipped syllables that she hastened to obey. Tunnel vision blinded him to everything except this woman, completely bare and ready to please him. He undid his belt and fly as he approached, his pulse thundering so hard he could feel it pounding in his dick.

  She’s new to this, he reminded himself. Go easy.

  Then again, she’d made him drag her to bed—throw her over his shoulder like a caveman and haul her here. She wanted it hard. Every time he’d pushed her, every risk he’d taken had paid off in spades.

  She’d invited him in again, even after he’d spanked her ass until it glowed, after he fucked her until she cried.

  Don’t hold back.

  He grabbed her by the hair with one hand and pulled himself out with the other. “Anyone ever fuck your mouth before, baby?”

  She blinked, like the question wasn’t really registering.

  A drop of fluid beaded at his tip. “Ever just shove between those perfect lips and take what they wanted? Use your throat like they were jerking themselves off? Like a sex toy?”

  The whimper she let out made his balls go tight.

  A vague warning sounded off in a dull, dim corner of his brain. She was barely verbal at this point. He wasn’t holding back, but she was new. He had to check in.

  “Tell me to stop. Or if you can’t talk, tap my thigh.”

  But all she did was open her mouth.

  His hard-won self-control threatened to abandon him at the sight of her tongue. Grasping both her hair and his own flesh tighter, he took a deep breath.

  “Last chance,” he warned.

  She shifted closer to the edge of the bed, and he was all about control, but even he wasn’t made of stone.

  “You’re a gift, beautiful.” With that, he fed himself to her. The first lick she took at his head had his eyes rolling back. He pushed past it, though, wanting wetter, deeper, more.

  When he was inside, he tapped her jaw, and she closed her lips, the image sinful. Crimson lipstick lingered on her skin, and there’d be a ring of it around the base of his cock by the time they were done. It filled him with a rough surge of pride. He loved marks—ones he left on the women he took and ones he asked those women to give to him.

  “Yes,” he hissed, “that’s right. Now suck, gentle.”

  Her cheeks hollowed out, and she stared up at him through her lashes. She looked like the perfect slut, like something out of his earliest fantasies, like she was his.

  He thrust forward, an inch too far, and she gagged. He pulled back, but when he gave her a second to breathe, she just opened her mouth again, leaning forward, chasing his dick, and who was he to deny her?

  She didn’t quite know how to deep-throat, but they could work on that. He didn’t need it anyway. Her mouth was heaven, hot and wet, and even if she hadn’t mastered the finale yet, she’d done this enough to know all sorts of tricks. How to slide her tongue against his slit and give the very faintest hint of teeth. He let go of himself and cupped the base of her skull, driving her on and setting the pace. She rocked into his thrusts, taking him deeper, and it was so good, too good.

  The stream of babble he couldn’t seem to cut off when he was fucking spilled out of him.

  “So good, gorgeous. You look so perfect with a cock in your mouth. Want to come down your throat, all over your face. Mark you up, make you taste it—”

  She whined around his dick, vibrations coursing through the length of him, pushing him higher.

  He cut off. Really looked at her.

  Shit, she was loving this. Was eating it up and sucking him down like a pro, but she was shaking, too, desperate and needy, and he’d only been joking by so much before.

  If he laid her out and went down on her, he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep her with him.

  Every muscle in his body screamed at him not to do it, but he grasped her head and pulled himself away. His cock popped free, a thin, slick line connecting the tip to her lips. When she tried to chase him this time, mouth open and hungry, he stopped her. She gazed at him plaintively, and he could frame that look. He could jerk off to nothing but the image of Lexie Bellamy on hands and knees and all but begging for a cock in her mouth.

  Letting go of her, he took another step back. He slicked a single, torturous stroke from the head of his cock to the base, where he squeezed down tight. With a sharp nod, he gestured toward the bed.

  “Strap in, baby. You’re going for a ride.”

  It was all she could do not to drool.

  Lexie sat there, kneeling by the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap, nude and vulnerable in a way she still had yet to entirely get her head around. As she watched, the world hazy and quiet and somehow perfect in her mind, Dane shucked his
jacket and undid his tie. When he started on the buttons of his shirt, her eyes went wide. He hadn’t taken a lick of clothing off the last time, and she was struck dumb with every inch of skin he revealed. It was tanned and toned, his pecs and abs standing in stark relief. Hard juts of muscle at the crests of his hips, and Jesus Christ, his arms. He tossed the shirt aside, leaving her to stare in fascination.

  She’d known her assistant was hot, and she’d always hoped what lay beneath the crisply tailored suit would match her fantasies. But she hadn’t realized he was ripped.

  Her pussy throbbed. She’d been ignoring the dull ache between her thighs the entire time he’d been shoving his cock between her lips, but it was getting harder to now. She was tempted to get her own hand there. It wouldn’t take much. She felt so hot, and she was slick enough that it would be easy.

  He could roll her over right now. Get her ass in the air again and shove her face into the mattress and press inside, and there wouldn’t be an ounce of resistance. She was wet and open and ready to be taken.

  But apparently he had a different idea.

  Instead of pushing her back, he stalked to the head of the bed and climbed on. He hadn’t taken off his pants, and the hard line of his cock jutted obscenely from his fly. She licked her lips, still able to faintly taste him there.

  It was another thing she hadn’t had the chance to see their first time around. Fuck, he was big. Thick and perfect, flushed deeply red and glistening from her mouth. She wanted to get her lips around him again, feel the bulge of that vein and that unrelenting hardness dripping with need against her tongue.

  “My eyes are up here, you know.”

  At the sound of his voice, she jerked her head up, tearing her gaze from his perfect cock to his gorgeous, stormy eyes.

  Full of mischief and lust, they stared back at her. He’d settled himself against the headboard, a couple of pillows tucked behind his back, his legs sprawled out in front of him.

  He reached into his pocket for his wallet. Either he carried around a strip of condoms all the time or he’d taken the opportunity to restock since the night before. As he tore it open and rolled it on, realization dawned.

  She got to have him again. Her pussy went even slicker at the thought, clenching empty around nothing, and she needed it. Needed this and him and to be split open and filled with him.

  Then, in a gesture that should have been insulting, he patted his lap. “Climb on.”

  And it was just like last time, this twisted mix of humiliation and desire so sharp it ached. But she didn’t resist it. Her toes and hands tingled, and her lungs were like champagne, all tiny bubbles and dancing. Heart thundering, she walked on her knees toward him.

  She wasn’t a prude. She’d had plenty of sex in her life—good sex, too. But she’d never felt like this before. Aware of every inch of her flesh, every curve and dip and swell where his eyes lingered, she swung a leg over so she straddled his thighs.

  High up on her knees, she looked down at him. Her skin glowed. “Like this, Sir?”

  “Almost.”

  He reached for her, broad palms settling on her hips and tugging her close, pulling her off balance. She flung out her hands to catch herself against his chest. His skin was so hot, the muscles beneath deliciously hard. He manhandled her, scooting her closer until her breasts grazed his lips, and then he pulled her down.

  She let her head tip back, her eyes clenching shut against the wave of pleasure as her hips fit to his. His cock stood straight and proud between them. When she tilted just so, her pussy slid against him, and she ground down, sparks firing off from her clit and the points of her breasts where they scraped against his chest.

  “See?” he asked. His breath was husky against her ear, his mouth sucking hot kisses along the column of her throat. “Isn’t that better?”

  “Yes.” So much better. Fire bloomed beneath her skin, and she could rub herself off against him like this so easily, but she was empty, and it left her frantic. “Please.” She tried to lift up, to angle her hips enough to drive him inside, but he held her in place. A whine, helpless and too weak, escaped her lips.

  “Please what, baby?”

  Right, he’d wanted her to use her words the last time, too. Well, he could have all of them. “Please. Fuck me. Fill me—”

  “Like this?”

  Somehow he’d worked his fingers between them. They circled her clit before pressing inside, and she bit down hard on her tongue. It was so close to what she wanted but not quite. She needed more, needed him.

  “Your cock, please. Sir, please.”

  He curled his fingers, and she saw stars. “You want to sit on my cock, baby?”

  “Yes, yes, let me, can I—”

  “If you want it so badly . . .” He loosened his grip on her, and she shifted her weight, ready to sink right down. Pulling his fingers free, he curled his fist around his base, holding himself up straight for her, but when she went to get him in her, he tightened the hand at her hip again. “You’re going to have to work for it. And what was the rule?”

  Rule? She racked her brain, too high on need and this impossible, empty ache to think.

  His voice went darker. “When do you come?”

  Oh fuck. A whole-body tremor took hold of her until she was shaking apart at the seams. “When you do. When you’re in me.”

  “Good girl.”

  With that he pushed her down.

  He slid in just as easily as she’d imagined, her body open and slick for him. She groaned louder with every inch. The fullness answered a question she hadn’t realized needed asking. When he finally bottomed out, she sat there panting, the stretch almost too intense, too good. The scratchy fabric of his pants brushed her ass, his hard metal belt buckle pressing into her thigh. Curling around him, she breathed in the scent of him. His hands on her body kept her grounded, his lips against her neck tying her to the world when it felt like she could fly away.

  She’d only just begun to collect herself when he nudged her back. With their gazes locked, he rolled his hips beneath her, driving in that tiny bit deeper. His hand drifted to her mouth, a fingertip slicking over her lips. She licked forward to sweep across it with her tongue, and he grasped her side even harder.

  “Go on then,” he said, a hint of a growl beneath the words. “Ride me.”

  Her legs had gone soft and weak, but she found the strength in them at his command. Getting her knees under her again, she rose by a fraction before dropping onto him again, and it felt so good. Her clit slid along his flesh, and he pressed against that perfect place inside. She rocked her hips, grinding into him, only for him to urge her higher.

  “Ride me,” he insisted.

  And something in her went hot and desperate and oh so eager to please.

  Letting him help her set the rhythm, she moved on him, sliding up until it felt like he’d slip out before slamming down, taking him deep. The relief of friction against her clit came only on the down-strokes, and the bright edge of orgasm drifted a little further away, but the part of her that cared did, too.

  His pleasure was written all over his face. Lips parted, gaze piercing, he eclipsed anything else she could worry or think about until there was only him and this pressing need to feel him come inside her. She flexed her inner walls, squeezed hard until he groaned.

  “Perfect, baby, you have the most perfect pussy in the world. Milking me so good, yeah, you want it? Want my come?”

  She nodded so hard the muscles in her neck strained, wanted to snap.

  “Tell me,” he groaned.

  “Come in me. I want it. Need it. Please, Sir, fill me up, I want—”

  She bounced up and down on him, harder and faster, babbling and begging. This tiny voice inside her reminded her she didn’t do this. She didn’t beg. She didn’t need anything from anyone—everyone always let her down.

  But it was hazy and quiet, and Dane was here. Dane had her.

  At the last second, his hands clamped down on her. He crus
hed her against his body, their mouths crashing into each other, all teeth and tongues. Holding her steady, he jackrabbitted his hips, thrusting so hard into her, and shit—fuck—shit—

  She was there. With only the most dancing, maddening of brushing glances against her clit. It built from inside, from that spot he pounded at relentlessly, and God, she loved his cock, she loved being like this—

  “Sir,” she whined, and it was a plea.

  One he answered, thumb edging inward to rest firmly against her clit.

  “Come with me,” he ordered against her lips.

  It crashed over her a scant second later. He slammed her down one final time, her name on his tongue, and he was there, pulsing deep inside, and she was allowed to let go. She threw the floodgates open, and for the longest time, she drowned.

  When she clawed her way back to the surface, she was a being made of light. The final spasms of her pleasure swirled around her ankles and deep in the pit of her abdomen. She was slumped over him, all her limbs gone boneless, her muscles turning to water with the impossible spasms still racking through her.

  And she was perfect. For one unimaginable moment, she was enough.

  She was still floating along on it when Dane began to stir. He pressed soft kisses to her temple and ran his hands along her spine. She huddled closer to his warmth.

  Gently, he pulled free of her and helped her off his lap. She didn’t want to let go, but with a brush of lips on lips, he coaxed her onto her side. He rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, too far away, but he must have known that. He knew so many things—things about her and her body that she had never managed to figure out before.

  Twisting around, he reached over and ran his fingers through her hair, and the small thread of nervousness inside the warm, soft cloud of her mind settled down.

  He stood just long enough to strip down to his boxers. Hard, lean muscle roped his calves and thighs, and she sighed in contentment at the sight. As he faced away, her gaze drifted higher, past his ass and the trim set of his waist.