by Mia Watts
“I don’t know what brought you here, but I’m not complaining,” he said. The words warmed her skin, completely unlike his whining plea earlier in her dream.
He lifted her arm over her head, helping her fingers wrap around the bed spindles.
The cool wood, solid in surface, jarred her from her sleep. She blinked into blackness at the smell of generic industrial detergent and warm man. Her body throbbed behind his hot hand. It was Ian. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. His mouth on her neck, his hand covering her breast and catching her nipple between his knuckles, it all washed her with un-ignorable need. With slight pressure, he pinched them, rolled them, made her pussy clench in answer, and moisture to slick her sex.
Ian’s fingers danced over her pussy. Flora’s palm twisted on the spindle as she held back a cry of desperation. She should go, now, before anything happened which couldn’t be undone.
The wide tip of one of Ian’s fingers curled into her body, parting the seam of her pussy. Each side of his trimmed nails lightly scraped and she couldn’t help the way her hips moved so that his finger penetrated deep enough to flutter over her clitoris. Her belly tightened as breath shuddered from her body.
Flora wanted him to take her hard, fast, immediately. She didn’t want to feel every flicker of tender exploration. She wanted him to fuck her so she could move on already. Maybe even pretend she allowed it in desperate passion and sleep-induced stupidity instead of the crazy-lava lust fire he built in her.
A second finger parted her, stroking like the first, and again her hips betrayed her, thrusting up to meet his touch.
“Shh, honey, we’ve got all night.”
“Fuck me. Stop taunting me and fuck me,” she countered.
“No condom.” He sounded taken aback, exasperated.
“You’re torturing me, right?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Not yet, baby. When you’re ready to slow down for some serious lovin’, then we’ll torture every inch of your naked body. Since you’re looking for a quick orgasm, I suggest you hold that bed frame a lot tighter.”
His hips flexed against her ass as his arms tightened around her, until she felt like he held her in a hot-blooded steel cage. Ian’s large hand devoured her smaller breast and commanded obedience from her nipples until they were puffy, distended, and sore in ways that had her grinding backwards against his cock just as furiously as she chased his fingers.
He pinned her, his cock at her back, his fingers plunging deep inside her while his thumb flattened on her clit. With each buck of his hips, her clit pounded against his thumb mercilessly while his fingers invaded her body and roped her mind with fraying cords to that one demanding succubus of orgasm.
Flora’s slick palms rubbed rhythmically in squeaking protest on the spindles. Still trapped on her side, he fucked her with forceful enthusiasm, sliding between her ass cheeks with the benefit of sweat and pre-cum.
Her pussy stung, throbbed, wept. His fingers hooked inside her to find the place even the damn Beastmaster hadn’t been able to locate. Ian squeezed her nipple with the same punishing metronome of rocking pleasure until finally, finally Flora was drop kicked over the end zone, her own hoarse yell drowning out the clank of wood headboard on plaster wall as orgasm folded in on itself deep in her belly and exploded outward.
Sparks streaked through her vision. Ian stiffened behind her. His subtle flexes, muffled shout, and delivery of hot musky cum on her lower back provided the final impetus as her pussy milked his fingers in selfish possession.
Ian’s breath puffed thickly at her ear. Her fingers dropped their talisman spindles as exhaustion claimed her into sleep.
Chapter Five
Ian cautiously reached for the tissue by the bed and cleaned Flora’s back before he cleaned himself. He’d wanted to savor her. Her skin had been as satiny as he’d imagined, and her scent a thousand times more hauntingly seductive in full arousal. Next time, he’d taste her. They could slow down and enjoy it more. He’d watched her body transition from languid desire to sharply tuned arousal, and ultimately, to the breaking and shivering of her body as it crested and shattered with fulfillment.
He tucked her closer against his chest, feeling the familiar texture of football jersey. Ian smiled and reached for the phone by the box of tissues. Dragging it to his hip, he found the zero and dialed it for the front desk.
“This is room 1104. Please have someone bring up some condoms.”
He didn’t wait for the answer. They’d deliver. Placing the phone back, careful not to jostle Flora while she slept, he then eased back against the pillows. Once the condoms got here, he’d wake her up the right way, he thought smiling.
Ian gave the concierge five minutes before he slipped from the bed and crossed to the door of the suite. His hand hovered over the closed security latch. He traced it thoughtfully. A quiet tapping took him from his thoughts as he unhinged the latch and opened the door just far enough to reach out and quickly jot his signature on the tab for payment and tip.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the elaborately decorated gift bag. He shot the man a questioning glance.
“Discretion.”
Ian nodded, thanked him again, and shut the door, re-latching it as he pivoted and walked quickly back to the bedroom. Reaching in, he blindly grabbed a handful of individually wrapped condoms and put them within arm length of the bed. One, he reserved.
His cock already raged hard and ready. Anticipation tightened his gut and quickened his breath. Flora Harper was a woman he could fuck indefinitely. He pushed aside the niggle of guilt which questioned his motives. Ian wanted her. It was plain and simple. Bobby might have an agenda, and Ian had agreed to help him, but this night was all about Ian and Flora finishing what they had started.
The attraction was real. Business or pleasure didn’t separate in his mind. Bobby wanted him to watch her. Hell, he’d watch her all right. He’d watch her fuck him. He’d watch her writhe when he took her with his mouth. He’d watch her cold-shouldered resolve weaken before the onslaught of ecstasy and he’d bring her there. He wouldn’t quit watching her until she had been satisfied and she wanted nothing more than to satisfy him in return.
His balls drew up at the thought of her pleading for his cum. And he’d fuck her slow. She wouldn’t have a say in the matter this time.
With a wicked smile, he took his jeans off the back of the chair and pulled the leather belt from the loops. Flora lay on her back. Ian took her hands over her head to the spindles. She’d liked that last time, so he did it again, loosely keeping her wrists in place with belt leather woven through the spindles.
She mumbled in her sleep and tugged at the leather. Ian drew back the sheets, pleased to see his jersey had twisted around her waist and left her sweet pussy open to his view. He climbed into bed beside her and caressed her exposed belly.
“Flora, sweetheart, wake up.”
He untwisted his jersey and lifted the hem to under her chin. He could barely make out the pale swells in the darkness. Ian rolled, clicked the lap to its lowest light setting.
“That’s better,” he murmured, dragging his fingertips up her sternum then brushing them back and forth down one swell and up the other. He sighed happily as he sank down to taste one raspberry tip.
It pebbled against his tongue. It had to be sore after the treatment she’d demanded. Ian kissed it, flicked the tip with his tongue, pressed it between his lips as he playfully enjoyed her.
Flora wiggled.
“You’re bound to the headboard,” he told her conversationally. Not wanting her to wake up afraid, he thought it better to let her know.
She gasped, tugged enough that her breast jiggled delightfully against his lips.
“You smell good. You feel good. Christ you even taste good,” he said.
“What am I doing here?” she asked sharply.
“Getting laid. I have to say, I didn’t expect you to appear in my bed at two a.m., but I’m glad you did.”
&n
bsp; “Appear?” Flora stiffened.
“Sneak in, surprise me, show up, whatever.” He glanced up. Flora visibly relaxed and Ian cupped her breast, holding it as he sucked deeply on her nipple.
“I don’t sleep with players,” she gasped.
He came off her nipple with a dull pop. “You were definitely sleeping. You were also definitely snoring just a little—it’s kinda cute, actually—and you also know how to use a bed when you aren’t sleeping,” he said smiling. “You like it a little rough, but I can work with that.”
Ian released her breast. Flattening his hand between her swells, he dragged it down, twisting his wrist until his fingers touched the top of her pubis.
“It was a mistake,” she said flatly.
“I’d believe that a little easier if you weren’t already spreading your legs for me to touch you.”
“I’m sore.”
“I’ll be gentle,” he countered. “I thought we’d dial it down a bit this time, enjoy it.”
“Maybe I don’t like it slow. Maybe I just want your cock inside me.”
Ian didn’t believe it. She looked nervous, but not scared. Already her legs had fallen open, and though he hadn’t made a move toward her pussy, he could feel the unconscious tilts of her pelvis as she tried to maneuver his hand in that direction.
“Shocking language,” he said, giving her mound a gentle slap.
Flora’s eyes widened. She bit her bottom lip.
He caught the nuances easily. Ian cocked his brows. “You liked that.”
She shook her head.
“Yes, you did.” He brought his face close to hers, watched her eyes dilate and her teeth release its delectable catch. Ian gave her pussy another soft slap, “Naughty girl, Flora, sneaking in to a man’s bedroom while he’s sleeping.”
Air rushed through her lips. Her cheeks flushed hotly. “Again,” she whispered.
———
Flora fought the plea. What the hell? She liked being in control. She hated the idea of any man using sex as a weapon, yet here she was, asking for him to slap her pussy—and it felt damn good!
He didn’t smack it hard enough to hurt her, just hard enough to jiggle her tender clitoris. The deliciously rough treatment he’d given her before made the bud that much more sensitive to each sudden jolt on the surrounding flesh.
Ian seemed to understand what she needed and he forcefully tapped her, gave her a firm rub, and swatted her again.
She cried out as her body clenched and her channel shivered near orgasm. “More.”
“Say please.”
“More, please.”
A couple more swats and she convulsed. God, how humiliating! She had to be the easiest lay in the universe, as well as the stupidest. Then his lips touched hers, soothed her abused bottom lip from where she’d bitten it. His fingers tickled across her pussy, petting her sweetly as though he thought there were nothing strange about slapping a woman’s mound and bringing her off.
She didn’t understand it, how could he?
“Well done,” he murmured.
His word soothed her embarrassment and still she wanted to give him a stinging retort for his patronizing words—would have if he had actually sounded patronizing delivering them. Instead he sounded pleased, impressed, awed, and the fuck of it was it completely turned her on.
The heaven of his lips left hers and she dared to look at him. His gaze boldly, longingly caressed her body as he shifted positions and eased between her legs.
“Yes,” she said, relieved he’d finally pound her into oblivion. She wanted to forget her little tour on the deviant side of twisted. Preferably with an impressive cock buried deep inside and doing things her Beastmaster couldn’t.
But he didn’t lower himself to her. He scooted down her body, wiggling his eyebrows and sending her a crooked grin.
“You aren’t,” she said. Oh fuck, he was. He wanted to go down on her? She never came when guys did that. It was awkward for everyone. She’d feel like she should moan. He’d get a tongue sprain and be annoyed with her for not screaming with pleasure after two minutes of slobbering…
Ian found his place between her legs and inhaled sharply. “I love the smell of wet pussy in the morning.”
As though to prove the hour, the alarm went off. A lull of soft rock music distracted her enough to pay that instant of attention to the radio alarm clock, forgetting to discourage Ian.
Wet and ticklish, he painted the seam of her pussy with one long swipe of his tongue. For the second time, she found her heart skipping in surprise.
“Oh, fuck.” Of course he’d be good at that, too. At least if she didn’t come she’d have fun going along for the ride.
“Eventually,” he agreed.
Ian pushed her thighs out to the side, using his wide athletic shoulders to keep her legs open. She could have raised them away, but her spread body with him at the center excited her.
“Mm, pretty.”
He blew cool air over her, then tucked his hands under her ass to lift her hips.
This isn’t going to work, she thought.
Full facial contact stole her ability to think. He nuzzled her, licked her, ate at her. No tentative licks and suckles. No half-hearted I’ll-do-you-then-you-do-me attempts. Ian feasted on her.
Flora freed one hand and clung to the leather anyway, not wanting him to know she could stop him but had chosen not to.
His lips found her throbbing clit and closed on it as his whiskered cheeks rested, teasing points all along her inner labia. The tiny hairs tormented her pouting folds—rough male reminders on her slick feminine folds that he alone controlled her state of mind.
She’d never been out of control before, never allowed it. But with him, like this, she simply held on and rode out the storm, taking it and loving every minute of his possession.
Her body shook. Her gasps caught, held, shuddered and caught again as he drew every nerve tighter and tighter. Her consciousness turned in on itself. Far beyond the normal glaze when she tried to mentally reach for pleasure, this time every thought swirled to one single vortex of sensation, a black recess of writhing ecstasy.
Flora screamed, hearing the sound of her voice almost outside herself. Panting, she came slowly back down with the subtle licks and praising murmurs muttered against her cunt. Her channel shivered in aftershocks of delight.
Ian flattened his tongue on her clit, massaging it and catching his teeth at the top of her parted pussy. She stared down the length of her body at him in amazement. He chuckled, the sound vibrating on beard-stung flesh in such a way that her body squeezed.
“I knew you’d taste good,” he murmured, breaking away from his oral play-thing to rise up and pull her nipple deep into his mouth, burying his face against her there too. His beard scraped, different but still pleasurable. He was slick with her juices and seemed to enjoy rubbing his chin on her.
“I like the stubble,” she said, feeling stupidly out of her element. She sounded like her twin, shy and filled with awe, not at all like herself.
Ian popped off her breast, rubbed his chin on the bud he’d just held in his mouth. Flora arched into it with a soft cry.
“I never figured you for a pain junkie.”
“I’m not. I just can’t seem—I just want more—” Shit! She really had to quit channeling her sexually insecure sister.
Ian moved higher, scrubbing his face into her neck and jaw. Flora giggled and squirmed to get away from the ticklish play, yet fisted her free hand in his hair to hold him close.
“Oh God, I’m going to smell like pussy,” Flora laughed.
Ian smiled down on her, his thumb stroking her jaw where stubble had left a slight burn. “Shaved pussy.”
She swatted his shoulder.
“Stay right here. I’ll take care of that.” He hopped up, handed her a condom, which she took. He whistled tunelessly as he walked toward the bathroom.
She’d caught the barest glimpse of bobbing cock as he’d turned. Now clenching a
nd unclenching ass captivated her attention as her eyes searched between his thighs for a shadow of his sack. Her mouth practically watered for the chance to taste him.
“Do you need me to hand you the phone?” he called from the connecting room.
“Why would I need that?” she asked. She craned her neck, smiled when Ian’s cock head entered her view in the small wedge of bathroom she could see.
“It’s after nine. Won’t somebody need to know you’re coming in late?”
“After nine?” Jerking to see the alarm clock, music still playing in the background, Flora felt the pit of her stomach drop. “Oh shit! Bobby scheduled a publicity meeting.”
The room shifted, taking on blue hues and warping the straight walls to a 4-D effect. A transportation hemmed in.
“No, no, no, not now!” she begged.
Unseeing, unfeeling, inanimate of life, her faery gift visually buckled the floor and Flora shot through the rippling air with nothing more than the belt still binding one wrist and Ian’s jersey tucked under her chin.
And then she was standing on cold tile floors in the elevator bay. The jersey dropped abruptly around her thighs and Flora’s bare toes curled under as the buzz of office noise hit her square in the chest. Beside her the bank of silver doors dinged. Flora hurriedly unbound her wrist and tightened Ian’s belt around her waist.
Her pussy clenched with empty need and yet Flora had no remaining doubt that she was definitely screwed.
Chapter Six
Flora didn’t wait for the elevator door to open. She ran. Her bare feet slapped like child’s tread on the frigid tiles and she drew up short to look both ways before dashing across the empty waiting room toward her office.
The buzz of voices grew louder and she ducked behind a partition to scope out the obstacles in her path.
“Sterling, what would you say is the driving unifier of the Gladiators,” someone shouted.
“We’re a team. We play as a team. We practice as a team. We behave like a team.” Bobby’s distinct rasp fired back.
