by Lili Valente
Damn him for making her laugh.
But then he had always made her laugh. It was one of the many reasons it had been so easy to fall in love with him.
“But we should choose something,” he said, his tone sobering. “We’re going to attract more attention as voyeurs than if we join in.”
Join in. Shit.
But he was right. They were going to have to become part of the scene, at least for a little while. People would notice if they made their way straight to the stairs on the other side of the room and the stairs were guarded by a man in black leather pants leaning against the wall, looking unhappy to be the only one in the room wearing clothes.
They were going to have to find a way past the guard, and the best way to do that was to make sure they didn’t attract attention in the first place.
After a quick assessment of the available options, Harley took a deep breath and pointed toward a shadowy corner of the room. “There.”
Clay’s gaze shifted, his eyes darkening as they settled on her choice. “Perfect.”
Without another word, he took her hand and led the way, making it clear who would be playing the Dominant lover in their little charade. Harley had always hated these kinds of games before—power exchange wasn’t her thing—but as Clay stopped in front of the leather swing she’d chosen and ordered her to—
“Strip. Everything off but your sandals.”
—her blood rushed faster. By the time her dress and panties fell to the floor, she’d nearly forgotten that there were a few dozen strangers in the room. She couldn’t focus on anything but how damned sexy Clay looked as he peeled off his tee shirt and stepped out of his skin tight jeans, confirming her suspicion that he wasn’t wearing a thing underneath.
“Going commando?” she murmured, nipples drawing into tight points.
“No room for anything but me in those jeans.” Clay stepped closer until she could feel the heat of his erection warming her belly. He was already hard, leaving no doubt that he would have no trouble performing in this kind of setting. “Now sit down and spread your legs. I want to see how wet you are.”
He bent his head closer to hers, cupping her breasts in his hands and teasing her nipples as he whispered, “Because I know you’re wet. I saw the way you looked at that bed in our tent.”
Harley’s lids slid closed, hating that he was right and that a part of her was grateful for an excuse to fuck him one last time.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, pinching her nipples tighter, making her knees go weak. “Don’t feel guilty. Stress clearly has this effect on you.”
He was reading her mind again, but he was also slipping a hand between her legs, teasing his fingers over her clit, making it hard to form a coherent thought let alone a response.
“Sit down and spread your legs,” he said, in a tone that made it clear he expected to be obeyed. “This is the last time I ask nicely, Elsa.”
The use of the fake name cut through the last of Harley’s reservations, freeing her to play her part. For the next half hour—or however long it took for her and Clay to find a way up those stairs—she would be Elsa, Lars’s dirty, but obedient, girl.
And she had no doubt she would love every wicked, sinful minute of it.
Chapter Ten
Clay
Harley eased back into the swing and spread her thighs, propping her high-heeled sandals into the stirrups, baring the slick place between her legs with a defiant look that made Clay’s cock pulse with its own hungry heartbeat.
“Like this, sir?” she asked, arching her brow.
“Like that.” Holy shit. Yes, like that. Exactly like that. He’d never realized he had any fantasies that involved bondage, but Harley in this leather swing had to be one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Now to complete the picture. “Raise your arms. There are wrist straps at the top.”
“Yes, sir.” She lifted her arms over her head, curling her fingers around the horizontal bar at the top of the swing as she added in a softer voice, “But you’d better set me free when I tell you to or I’ll kill you while you sleep.”
He smiled. “And here I thought you were good at just about everything,” he murmured as he moved between her thighs.
“I am,” she said. “Except golf and who the fuck wants to be good at golf.”
“Golfers, I imagine.” Clay cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples gently, waiting until she captured her bottom lip between her teeth before he reached up, strapping her wrists into the leather cuffs at the top of the swing. When she was secure, he returned his attention to her nipples, rolling and plucking with a pressure he knew was just a little too gentle for her tastes. “So you’re bad at golf and, so far, you’re not great at this.” He pinched her right nipple tighter, making her breath catch. “I know you have the self-discipline of a monk, Elsa. Why don’t you use some of that to show me what a good girl you can be?”
“Why don’t you go tie your dick in a knot,” she said, arching into his hands. “Or you could shut up and fuck me. That would work too.”
“Tempting. But not just yet.” He stepped back, his hands falling away from her breasts as he took in the view of her spread wide, naked and vulnerable and desperate for him to take her. It was a sight he hadn’t been sure he’d see again, and he was already so turned on it was a little piece of hell resisting the urge to drive inside her.
Fuck, but she was beautiful, so sexy, with her skin luminescent against the black leather. And the swing was positioned perfectly, the base even with his hips. All he would have to do is fit himself to her where her body wept for him and push inside, then use his grip on the swing to rock her up and down his cock until they both fell apart.
But chances were good that this would be his last time with Harley, and he intended to give her something to remember him by. Something to fantasize about on nights when she was alone, to make her slip her fingers between her legs and think of him while she made herself come.
Holding her gaze, he encircled her wrists just below the restraints, massaging her forearms as his hands moved down to her elbows, easing the tension from her muscles. “I have a proposition for you.”
“What’s that?” she asked, chest rising and falling faster as his kneading hands reached her upper arms. “Whatever it is, it’d better not involve the love child of a power tool and a dildo.”
“No, nothing like that. I know better.” He and Harley had never discussed their opinions on whips and chains, but he knew she didn’t get off on being submissive. She loved power too much for that.
But she also loved a good game, a fair fight, and anyone who could hold their own in a battle of wills and not back down.
“My proposition involves my hands on your beautiful body.” His thumbs dug lightly into the smooth skin of her armpits before moving in a circle around the sides of her breasts, drawing a soft murmur of pleasure from her lips. “And my mouth, my tongue, my teeth…” He cupped her breasts, appreciating the way her nipples pebbled tightly in response, but deliberately avoided touching her there again. “And a game of uncle.”
“Uncle,” she breathed as her eyes fluttered closed.
Clay arched a brow. “Giving up already?”
Her lids slitted. “No. Just a little confused. Uncle, is that like mercy?”
“Yes.” His palms slid down her ribs to her waist and then farther down, settling on the inside of her thighs, just below where her leg became something more intimate. “Just like that. If I fuck you before you cry mercy, then I’ll stop asking for a second chance. But if you cry mercy first, you owe me another night.” His thumbs kneaded at her tight muscles, easing closer to her pussy with every stroke. “One more night, just you and me. No danger, no pretend, no lies. Just the two of us and me making you come again and again until you realize you can’t ever let me go.”
Harley’s breath rushed out. “You’re on, Lars. But be warned, I don’t intend to lose.”
“Good.” He used his thumbs to spread her wide, gi
ving him an intimate view of every inch of her sweet pussy. “It wouldn’t be any fun if you let me win.”
“Arrogance is an ugly trait in a man,” she said in an icy tone. But the tongue slipping out to dampen her lips and the trembling of her thighs as he knelt between her legs made it clear she wasn’t as above it all as she would have him believe.
“Confidence. Not arrogance.” He looked up, holding her gaze as he pulled the swing closer, bringing his lips inches from her pussy, close enough for his breath to warm her skin, but not close enough to grant any relief. “I’m confident you are going to beg me to fuck you. And when you do, I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to make you come screaming my name.” He winked. “Just remember to use the right one.”
Before she could respond, he turned his head, capturing her thigh between his teeth and biting down as his thumb slipped into her pussy, driving deep.
“No fair, I—” Her words ended in a moan as he circled his thumb, pressing against her swollen inner walls, teasing over her g-spot as he summoned more slickness from her body.
He waited until her breath was coming in swift pants and her hips were bucking into his hand before he brought his mouth to the top of her, lips parting over her clit. He suckled her with slow, deep pulls as his thumb continued to move, sending her spiraling within a matter of seconds.
“Yes, Lars,” she groaned, gasping as she lifted into his mouth. “God, yes. I thought you were going to make me suffer first.”
Sliding his thumb from between her legs, he brought his tongue to her entrance, lapping away the salty evidence of her release, smiling as she groaned again.
He had every intention of making her suffer, but he had wanted to give her pleasure first. No, he hadn’t wanted it; he’d needed it. He needed her to know that he loved pleasuring her first and tormenting her second.
God help him, but he did love torturing her, just a little, just for the thrill of seeing how far they could push each other before one of them broke.
He kissed his way up her body, lingering to trace the soft swell of the underside of her breast with his tongue before continuing up the column of her throat. He nipped at her neck, drawing his teeth lightly across her skin before he whispered in her ear, “Are you ready to beg yet?”
“No.” She shivered as he ran his knuckles lightly over the skin between her breasts. “I told you, I don’t intend to lose. You might as well put yourself out of your misery.”
“And what misery is that?” He kissed the place behind her ear that always made her breath rush out. This time was no exception, a fact that made him smile again though he knew exactly what misery she was talking about.
“Your cock is practically purple.”
“So you’ve been looking at my cock?” he asked, continuing to kiss her neck as his hands returned to her breasts, cupping and squeezing.
“It’s hard to miss.” Her voice caught as he captured her nipples lightly between his fingers, applying the barest pressure, knowing she would be even more sensitive there now that she’d already come. “You look like you’re going to explode and not in the good way.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, ignoring the heavy, painful pulse in his balls.
“If my hands were free I could touch you,” she purred, squirming as he intensified his efforts at her nipples, plucking and teasing at her aroused flesh. “I could jerk you off, let you come on my tits.”
“I don’t want to come on your tits,” he said, kissing her shoulder before biting her there, too. He pulled back far enough to catch her hooded gaze. “I want to come inside you, deep and hard while you beg me not to pull out.”
“This is starting to sound like a fetish,” she said, teeth digging into her lip as his tongue flicked across her nipple. “You have a thing for knocking women up?”
“I never thought I did before. But that night in Prague, and now…”
He wet his lips, the thought of shooting between her thighs making pre-come leak from the tip of his already suffering dick. “Honestly, I’m dying to fuck you bare. I want you to come on my cock, milk me dry while I’m buried balls deep in your pussy.”
He circled one nipple with his tongue as he rolled the other between his fingers, his body howling with the need to get inside of her, but he forced himself to wait. Her breath was coming fast and her eyes were glazed.
It wouldn’t be long now. She was going to beg him and it would be the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.
“It would be so fucking hot to know I might be getting you pregnant again,” he continued, pausing to suckle her nipple, drawing a soft, strangled sound from low in her throat. “But this time, I’d get to stick around and watch your belly grow and your breasts swell. I’d get to strip you bare at night, see the evidence of the life we’d made growing inside of you, and make love to you from behind, slow and deep.”
“Stop,” she whispered as he transferred his attention to the inside of her thighs, kneading her trembling flesh as he urged her legs farther apart.
“You don’t want me to stop. This turns you on, I can tell.” He stood, continuing to stroke her thigh with one hand as he brought the other to his cock. “The thought of me taking you without protection, coming with the head of my cock deep inside you while your body pulses around me.”
He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft, giving the throbbing organ a hard squeeze before he began to pump himself slowly up and down, not missing the way Harley’s gaze dropped to watch him. The hunger in her eyes made it even harder to wait. “You want me bare. You want it so bad you’re getting ready to beg me for it.”
“No, I’m not.” But her hips shifted restlessly and when he brought his thumb to circle her clit her eyes rolled back and a pained sound escaped her throat.
“Yes, you are.” He thumbed her harder, backing off just as she began to lift into his hand.
“Bastard,” she cursed, her eyes squeezing closed.
“I’m not a bastard, all you have to do is beg.” He traced the pulsing head of his cock down the inside of her thigh. He was so close to losing control his entire body felt feverish, wild, but he needed her surrender more than he needed relief. He needed the promise of another night waiting for them when Jasper was safe and this hell was behind them more than he needed anything. “Beg me and I’m inside of you, baby. Deep and hard, just the way you like it.”
He captured her nipple again, pinching lightly as the head of his cock teased her clit with the barest pressure. “Or we can do this for a little longer until your soul hurts because you need to be fucked so bad.”
“Please.” She whimpered, her fingers spreading wide before clenching into fists above her head. “Please, please, please.”
“Please what?” He guided his cock to her dripping opening, letting her feel him ready to go, but not thrusting inside. “Say the words, baby. Say the words and there’s no more pain. Only pleasure and you coming on my cock, coming so hard you won’t remember anything but how good I make you feel.”
“Yes,” she finally sobbed. “Please. I’m begging. Mercy. Please!”
With a dizzying rush of victory and relief, Clay entered her with one savage thrust, tugging the swing forward to meet him until he was buried to the hilt, his balls pulsing between the cheeks of her ass.
Holding still, he squeezed his eyes closed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold on if he looked down at her right now. Her pussy was molten hot and so swollen she felt like a glove squeezing him tight. He could come just from feeling her inner walls pulsing around his cock, hearing her moaning softly as she writhed against him, seeking the friction she needed to come.
“Please, oh please,” she begged. “More. I need you so much.”
And he needed her, too, more than air, more than water, more than anything in the world. As he pulled out and rammed back inside her, the swing making each endless thrust a smooth glide into paradise, Clay forgot that they were in a room full of people. He forgot the game, the mission, and the pow
er play and lost himself in the woman he loved.
He was seconds from release, too far gone to think of anything but reaching the edge and taking Harley over with him when a roar of outrage sounded from the entrance to the room.
A moment later, a masculine voice shouted, “That’s my wife, you worthless sack of shit!”
Clay turned over his shoulder in time to see a man with a beard trailing all the way down to his rounded beer belly launching himself at a naked man sprawled on top of the woman bound to the nipple stimulation table.
Not long after, the guard stationed at the base of the stairs rushed across the room to intervene.
Cursing the timing—and the case of blue balls that were no doubt going to haunt him for the next few hours—Clay reached for the close of Harley’s restraints, freeing her wrists before he whispered urgently in her ear, “Now. We go now!”
Chapter Eleven
Harley
Clay pulled out and turned to reach for his clothes, setting every nerve ending in Harley’s body to screaming in protest. She was so turned on, so hot, and so close to coming again that her pussy contracted violently in response to the sudden emptiness between her legs.
But her body wasn’t calling the shots.
The guard was fighting to pull a bearded man off of the couple fucking on the medieval torture device and every eye in the room was glued to the unfolding drama. This might be her and Clay’s only chance to slip up the stairs. They couldn’t afford to waste a second.
Harley eased out of the swing, willing her wobbly legs to steady as she stepped into her panties and pulled her dress over her head. She was still trembling when Clay took her hand and pulled her across the room, but she managed to make it up the long, curving flight of stairs without her knees giving out.
At the top of the stairs, Clay opened a slim wooden door, sticking his head out to survey what awaited them before nodding that the coast was clear. As Harley followed him out into a room where small tables covered in lace tablecloths sat overlooking the rose garden, she stumbled over the edge of a thick, Persian rug, but Clay caught her before she could fall.
