by Sam Mariano
“Yes?”
“Stop talking. I’m going to gag you unless you promise to shut that pretty little mouth of yours and only open it again if it’s to moan my name.”
Oh, fuck.
Imagining moaning his name—and the things he would be doing to draw such a response out of me—causes my pussy to clench with desire. Desperate for more of whatever he wants to give me, I nod my head wordlessly.
Apparently satisfied with the promise of my silence, Sin’s attention returns to the apex of my thighs. I try resisting the urge to squirm, but I can’t keep still. I’m nervous and turned on. Sin still hasn’t kissed me on the mouth yet, and now his lips are inches away from a much more intimate kiss. Shouldn’t I feel his tongue brush mine before I feel it delve inside me?
I think I should, but he must not agree. Spreading my lips, he slightly eases the ache of my arousal as he pushes his tongue inside me. My whole body shudders with pleasure. He teases me and turns me on so much that when I get even a little physical stimulation, the pleasure crushes me like a tsunami. Now he tastes me, his tongue exploring. He flicks my clit and I gasp. His wonderful tongue circles that sensitive nub, then delves lower and his tongue darts deeper inside me. Oh, God, it all feels so good. I pull at the chains again. I want to push my fingers through his hair, but I can’t.
His tongue focuses on my clit again for an intense minute, then all of a sudden, he withdraws. I gasp, waiting for him to go back in, but instead he kisses my lips outside, drawing me into his mouth and sucking. I close my eyes, sighing as he nibbles on me. He eases a finger inside me and I moan, loving the feel of him invading me. I want more of him to invade me. I want his cock. All of it, skin to skin. I’ve never had a bare cock inside me, but fuck it, I’m already pregnant; I want his.
I’m probably allowed to talk to tell him that. “Sin, please fuck me.”
He chuckles against my pussy, giving it a little kiss as he pushes a second finger inside me. “You want it bad, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, not bothering to deny it. “Please. Please, Sin. I need you.”
He must like that a lot, because his tongue darts inside me again, going for the clit while he uses his two fingers to simulate fucking me. My pussy squeezes them tight as they move in and out, promising his cock the same treatment. Sin doesn’t accept the eager invitation, not yet, at least. He latches his mouth onto my pussy and uses his tongue to toy with me, licking and stroking and finger-fucking me until I’m in a frenzy. Until my shyness is so far gone, I’m bucking my hips against his face, desperate for the pleasure he’s teasing me with. He brings me to the brink, my legs trembling against the mattress, then he takes it away.
“No,” I whine, rolling my hips forward, begging him to come back. “That’s so mean. Please.”
I can feel his amusement, the evil bastard. I want to trap him against my pussy until he makes me come. I don’t know how feasible that is, but I move my legs and drape them over his shoulders.
He pulls off me and looks up, amused. “This needy little pussy wants my mouth, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Say it. Tell me what you want, Laurel. I like dirtying up that pretty mouth of yours.”
Adrenaline pours through me. I can’t look at him, so I close my eyes. “I want you to lick me. I want you to make me come. Please?”
“You want to come on my face?”
“Yes,” I say, a little desperately. “Yes, please. I’ll come on whatever you give me—your face, your fingers, your cock. Please, just… get me off before I die.”
“There we go,” he says, apparently appeased.
My sexy tormentor takes control of my pussy again, using his mouth for good rather than evil. Knowing he pulled the pleasure right out from under me last time he pushed me to the edge, I feel pulled taut even as he pleasures me with that wonderful tongue of his, even as he laps me up like his favorite dessert. Pulling his fingers out of me, he cradles my ass in his hands and elevates my pelvis, bringing my pussy higher as he devours it. The shift does something—I’m not sure what, but he has me gasping desperately, pulling in vain at my cuffs. I want to touch him, I want him closer. Oh, God, his mouth.
“Sin,” I cry. “Please don’t stop. Please.”
He doesn’t. I can’t breathe properly, the pleasurable tension inside me coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke of his tongue.
And then it hits, and it hits hard. I need to grab onto something, some anchor, but I can’t. My hands clench as his tongue triggers fireworks exploding everywhere in my body, in my mind. I don’t just moan his name, I scream it. I scream it twice, and then a third time. Pleasure still racks me. Dragging the flat of his tongue across my sensitive pussy, he gives it one last kiss before withdrawing.
“Oh, my god,” I murmur, breathlessly. “Oh, my god.” I pull at the cuffs, even though I’m weak. That orgasm was incredible, and I’m so grateful, I want to swallow him whole. I don’t know if he’s ready again, but I need to find out. “Please get these off me.”
Sin has to climb over to the bedside table to get the key, and when he does, I see that he is, in fact, hard again. Oh, thank God. He frees my left hand first since it’s tied to his side of the bed, then he straddles me to unlock the second one. As soon as I’m free, I bring my hands up to grab that incredible ass of his and urge him higher.
He cocks an eyebrow, but knee crawls higher up my body. Relief pours through me like the pleasure did a moment ago when his hard cock nudges my breast. I grab it and stroke him, then bring my head up to lick the smooth tip. I look up at Sin’s face when I hear him sigh with pleasure. I want more of that. I want to look up at him like this while I get him off.
“Fuck my face,” I tell him.
His eyes open wide and he looks down at me. “Yeah?”
I nod.
“You done this before?”
I don’t know if he’s asking because he wants to do something to me Rafe hasn’t, or because he’s not sure I’ll be able to handle it. “No, not yet.”
Appearing faintly amused, he runs his big, scarred hand across my jawline in an expression of teasing tenderness. “Your mouth will be too full of my cock to use your safe word.”
He’s teasing me, but he’s also not. He’s warning me that this isn’t the same as sucking his dick—I won’t be able to stop him, even if I want to. Wariness grabs me, but I ignore it. When he takes my power, it turns me on. I know what I want. “That’s okay.”
I guess one warning is all I get, because now he shifts his weight above me, his muscular thighs on either side of my head. My heart kicks up several speeds and I take a deep breath. His dark gaze holds mine as he guides me, one hand grasping his cock, the other pressing on my chin until I open my mouth for him.
“You want me, Laurel?”
Everything within me softens. I’m so glad he freed my wrists, because I can reach my hand up to cradle his face in my hand. “Yes, I do.”
So he gives it to me.
It’s easy at first. He starts off tender, not going all the way, just letting me suck on him to get started. I’m comfortable with that. I love the feel of him in my mouth. It’s intoxicating that he has all the control, and I please him as he allows. He nudges a little more of his cock into my mouth and I run my tongue along the underside. He seems to like that. Without warning, he tilts his hips and pushes deeper. I relax my throat muscles so I can take him when he pushes all the way to the back again. He stays like that for a moment, giving me time to adjust to him lodged all the way inside me.
I wrap one hand around his thigh and brace the other on his side. Since he sees I can breathe and I’m not panicking, I guess, he starts moving his hips. I thought this would be more similar to going down on him, but it only takes a minute before I realize how wrong I was.
This is nothing like going down on him. There is far more to this—his complete power over me is more prevalent than the dick in my throat. He did warn me I wouldn’t be able to stop him if I let
him take me this way, but as he picks up the pace, that becomes clearer. This is more aggressive, an act of domination even if it was my idea. The act itself is not physically comfortable, but I love looking up at him like this, watching him use my mouth for his pleasure. Every time he forces his cock down my throat, my arousal ratchets up.
Sin keeps an eye on me, but it’s when his head falls back and his eyes drift shut that I fly highest. I want him to let loose. I want him to own my mouth, to pound his cock inside it, to do whatever he wants to do to it. To me. I want him to fuck me so badly, but I know even if he might have before, he won’t now. Not tonight. He’s had my mouth twice, so it’s unlikely my pussy will get a turn.
He pushes too hard, too deep and I gag. He pulls out, his gaze attentive. “You all right?”
I suck in a breath, nodding my head.
“Scratch me if you can’t breathe, okay? I can’t go too hard on you because you’re pregnant; we have to do this carefully. No breath play when you’re pregnant. It’s not safe. Understand?”
I nod that I understand, but he narrows his eyes like he doesn’t quite trust me. I’m the one taking a cock down my throat, and he’s the one who isn’t sure he can trust me.
He eases his cock back into my mouth, playing in the shallow end at first. I have no complaints. I love sucking on him, and it’s even hotter looking up at him like this. Both of the other times I’ve sucked him, he has been on his back on the bed. Next time I take his cock, I want to kneel for him. Then I can still look up at him like this, but I won’t be quite as helpless if it gets too intense.
He lets me suck him for a while before he pushes himself deep again.
“You like my cock in your throat, Laurel?”
I’m presently too full of said cock to sufficiently nod, but the hunger in my eyes must be an adequate answer because he smiles. God, his smile.
“That’s right; you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He pulls out of my throat, grabbing my hand and guiding it to his cock. “Lick. Not too sloppy. I don’t like too sloppy.”
I file that note away, lavishing his dick with all my tongue’s attention, but careful to catch any extra juices in my mouth so I don’t displease him. He gathers my hair in a low pony tail and fists his hand in my hair, using it like a handle and guiding me where he wants me. He drags me across the bed until I’m on my hands and knees, then he shoves my face back on his cock. It’s easier to take him like this, even with his fisted hand in my hair. I can pull my head back when the largeness of his cock becomes more of a problem than a pleasure.
As I take him all the way to the base, he groans and pets my back. “That’s perfect. Take it all. That’s my good girl.”
His good girl. My pussy throbs and a moment later I’m rewarded with the hot evidence of his release as he pumps into my throat one more time.
“Christ, Laurel,” he murmurs, falling back on the bed and dragging me with him.
I turn and snuggle into his embrace, peppering his chest with kisses. My stomach is still twisted up with desire, even though he got me off the first time. He turned me on even more the second time. I can’t resist rubbing against his thigh, seeking friction.
That gets his attention.
“You need to come again, pretty girl?” he murmurs.
I bite my lip, feeling greedy.
Sin smiles and pushes his blunt finger between my legs. My arousal is ratcheted up and I’m so high on him already, it only takes a minute of him rubbing me before I come for him again, crying out his name and clutching his side as I push myself against his hand.
Now sated and boneless, I curl up against his side. He keeps a strong arm around my waist, keeping me nestled close. He kisses the top of my head again, but still not my lips.
I’m too worn out to complain.
All I want to do is lie here with our bodies entwined and never leave.
26
Rafe
Among the long and varied list of reasons Cassandra Carmichael is the biblical idea of Satan brought to life and given a vagina, she made me do terrible things when we were together—like watch The Bachelor with her.
My initial response was a sensible “fuck no,” but within a couple episodes (and with enough alcohol), I warmed to the parade of bikini-clad dipshits. The show itself was human carnage, just an absolute train wreck—I assume that’s why Cassandra liked it. Watching the character dynamics got boring fast—it was too easy to predict who would be sent home, even taking into account the fact that some of it was obviously scripted and decided by producers who needed to consider ratings.
One thing I found surprising, though, was how none of the women ever seemed to pick up on the fact that becoming a tattler gets you sent home. It didn’t matter if that season’s evil bitch killed your dog and fucked your father, telling the uncaring bachelor asshole how evil she was would definitely result in someone going home—but always you, never her.
People always shoot the messenger. They like positivity and fun when they’re trying to fall in love, not the person who tells them their favorite eye candy is made of pure evil. Doesn’t matter if it’s the truth—the truth is irrelevant. It’s all about the experience. Given the right environment, the right level of arousal (even if it has nothing to do with the man, and is more because they’re bungee jumping off a fucking bridge somewhere), any single one of the women on these shows can be so convinced they love this man they’ve spent approximately five hours with, that they will blubber all over the place when he sends them home.
Sure, some of them are faking, but I’ve seduced enough real women to know the same principles apply to women who aren’t trying to score their own reality show.
When I left Sin’s house last night, my initial reaction was that I wanted to take his ass down. I wanted to dredge up his past and throw it right in Laurel’s face so she’d see that he’s not whatever he has convinced her he is, and she would run back to my bed.
That would not have worked. I realized it by the time I got home. Once I got my kneejerk reactions in check, I ditched that idea and set about planning something much better. I took into account Laurel’s interests. I don’t know a lot of them, but I was able to cobble together a pretty nice day with what I do know—and over the course of it, I plan to learn more.
As far as sabotaging Sin, I’ll have to be more under-handed in that regard. If it even comes to that. I seduced Laurel once, and it was effortless. Granted, I had no competition then, but I’m not afraid of a little competition. Sin isn’t even charming, so if she goes for my shtick, he should be easy to shake. Personality-wise, Sin and I are nothing alike. I like to have fun, and he doesn’t. If Laurel is drawn to me, simply putting myself back on the table and showing her I’m capable of not being an asshole should do the trick.
If not, I’ll break out some dirtier tricks. I’ll leak information about him to her without getting my own hands dirty. I’ve already started greasing those wheels just in case, but I don’t think I’ll need to. I’m pretty confident in my own ability to win Laurel back.
Step one is already done; I sent Sin out early and made sure he’s busy as hell all day long. That leaves Laurel home alone and without anything to do when I show up on her doorstep this morning.
At least, that was the idea. I’m standing here like an asshole after knocking for a third time, and she still has not come to the door. I haven’t had to pick a lock in quite some time, and Sin’s door is more secure than mine, so this is going to be a hassle. I think back to last night and recall the door from inside. It has three locks, and the deadbolt he has on this door is a real fucking headache. Shit, that’s a lot of work. I don’t want to do all that.
I wait one more minute, then I trip the lock on his gate and walk around to the back door. That one has reinforced glass and a bar lock, but I’ll be able to see into the house and see if Laurel is creeping around, trying to hide from me. She has to be in there; maybe she just doesn’t want to answer the door.
Sure enough, when
I get to the back door, I can see straight into the kitchen, where Laurel’s little ass is standing, peeking through the doorway at the front door. Smirking, I tap on the glass and watch as she jumps out of her skin and turns around to look at me.
I cock an expectant eyebrow, and I can see her face flush from here.
There are four steps from the kitchen down to the room where the back door is. Laurel approaches the glass, but then she looks at the barred lock like she’s not completely sure how to work it.
Pointing to the front door, I tell her, “I’m going to go back around front. Open the damn door this time.”
When I get to the front door, she already has it open. That seems all fine and good until I’m about to say hello and the alarm starts squealing.
Ah, fuck. Gently moving Laurel out of the way, I head up the stairs toward the keypad mounted on the living room wall. “Do you know the alarm code?” I ask her.
“Definitely not,” she answers, unhelpfully.
Neither do I, but I’m down to seconds before this thing sends an alert to Sin. I think I get three tries. That’s fine. I only have two guesses.
I push in the first—Paula’s birthday.
Nope.
Fuck, what was Ellie’s birthday? I close my eyes, picturing the party. Summer. July? Or was it June? Well, I have two tries left, so I try July first, but no luck. I try again with June.
Nope.
Fuck. I thought for sure it would be one of those. Then again, that’s probably why it isn’t.
“Well, this is going a little differently than I expected,” I tell Laurel.
Now that I look at her, I can’t help noticing she is much more alarmed than I expect. Sure, it’s annoying that the alarm is going off, but her sheer panic seems an overreaction. “Is this going to notify Sin?” she demands. “He’ll think I’m trying to leave. Text him and tell him you’re here.”
She no more than gets that out and her phone starts ringing. Laurel looks around frantically like she doesn’t know where to find it. The sound is coming from the kitchen, which she realizes and runs in there. She grabs it and quickly taps the screen.
