by Antonia Paul
It was hard to look annoyed at him while stretched around his cock, legs spread.
He reached up to where her nipples dangled. The touch alone sent another jab of electricity through her and she nearly lost her balance on his cock. She gasped and concentrated on her task, sliding up and down the silky shaft. She rocked her hips and clenched around him.
He didn't merely touch her nipples, apparently not satisfied with widening her eyes and provoking a sharp indrawn breath, he twisted their ends. He stretched them, caressed them and wet a finger with his tongue and circled it around the one that seemed most sensitive.
Distracted, she lost her rhythm once again; her climax threatening as he continued to molest her. Forgetting her task, she twisted in delight as the cock slid in and out. She looked down, and though she couldn't see her portal with its filling, she could feel it. Her hands dropped forward to the bed as she tilted forward to get the best angle for her pleasure.
"I want to cum, girl," he growled. "Keep fucking me."
"Yes, Rangi," she gasped, flicking a hand to her head to sweep the damp drooping curls from across her eyes.
She concentrated, bending low to kiss him, then back to change her angle so he found more friction.
Abandoning one nipple, he found her clit. Just above his cock was room to stroke her nub; he did, she felt her need to cum intensify immediately.
"Rangi! You'll make me cum," she said moving as if on a trotting horse, making sure he didn't pop out while trying to increase her speed.
"I hope so," he blurted. "Nearly, girl," he breathed, " a bit more, yes, yes . . . "
His slightly raised head fell back and his teasing of her ceased as his hands dropped off her too. She felt him arching up, trying to thrust deeper into her and he kept it up for seconds that felt like minutes.
He seemed to increase in hardness, size and heat; she knew his orgasm was on the way, but its suddenness startled her as he'd given no shudder or sigh.
She felt him pumping out his cum into the condom, but feeling her own climax close, she willed it to overtake her before he quit.
Three, two; one final thrust down on him and her clit gave in. She slumped forward as the pleasure wave drained her remaining strength and satisfaction pulsed everywhere. Her vagina walls tightened round his shrinking cock. She rested her head on his chest, and closed her eyes as his heartbeat slowed beneath her.
Rangi stroked her head.
"You held it, girl. Well done."
"I wanted to please you," Cassie said." I want to please you always."
She smiled. She kissed him softly; she felt pleased he'd persisted with her and happy she'd talked to Suzanne earlier. In the morning she would have had to pack and go. Now she could stay another week and see where next this wild adventure took her.
The End of Part One
More by Antonia Paul
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Bound to Rebel
Part One of a Series with Ashton Finn and Eartha Keane.
Read an excerpt:
Eartha didn't want to go. Really. But because it was Sam's party, she went. Sam was her oldest and dearest friends, yes, old enough and dear enough to get her to a party where there would only be air-heads and pot-smokers, and no-one remotely suitable to date.
Eartha was soon walking the few blocks to Sam's loft building. She pressed the intercom buzzer button. Typical of the place, no-one asked for details before letting her up. That wouldn't have happened if she was on the intercom.
The shiny, refurbished freight elevator came to a stop at floor five; the loft door was open. A cloud of marijuana smoke greeted her, wreathed across multiple faces and backs; there were clusters of people on the landing and around the door. The way to the roof also stood open. Another group, with beer bottles and joints, was silhouetted against the city's skyline, which glittered in the late-afternoon sun.
Eartha squeezed through the bodies at the entrance door and looked for Sam.
There: Eartha saw her by one of the huge loft windows, near a makeshift bar, created by laying a discarded metal fire door across two massive sawhorses.
The bar was loaded: bottles of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks; paper and plastic cups; paper plates with cheese cubes, crackers, cheese curls, tortilla chips and sundry containers of dip. Eartha wrinkled her nose. Quite a spread, if you liked eating junk.
Sam's flaming red frizz glowed in the abundance of light filtering through the glass. She was talking animatedly to the most handsome white man Eartha had ever seen. Eartha found herself, to her astonishment, instantly attracted to him as she approached.
An infectious grin, mop of golden curls and tall, muscular body drew her eyes. But the deep base voice she heard, as she got closer, vibrated her core, and she froze when he turned a disarming, piercing gaze on her.
She gaped at him.
Eyes like the sky. Inane, but it was the thought in her head as he smiled the smile of angels. His head was haloed in sunlight. She saw Sam follow his glance and leap toward her.
"Earthly Girl, you came!" she crowed, dragging Eartha by the arm right up to him.
Somewhere in Sam's gushing introduction she heard his name; the heavenly vision was called Finn. But surely Sam hadn't thought of him as a possibility for her.
Sam appeared to be smitten herself, and Eartha was nonplussed. Sam already had a boyfriend: Kostas. Wasn't Kostas here? Had they broken up?
Eartha didn't think much of Kostas. A quiet, dark-haired lug with a permanently unshaved chin, he usually ordered Sam around in growling monosyllables, while Sam's devotion to him seemed puppy-like. Eartha had nick-named him The Shadow: the permanently attached polar-opposite of her light and airy, joyful friend.
"Look Eartha, isn't it beautiful?" Sam tilted her head to show off her neck. Around it was a thin, close-fitting gold snake-link choker - a gift from Kostas, she was quick to explain.
Eartha admired it, the first piece of Sam's jewelry she'd liked - elegant and understated - she could imagine one like it around her own neck, glinting at her tailored shirt neckline.
Was Sam interested in Finn? She stood almost indecently close to the man. Her body language screamed attraction, if not lust. But after a few more breathless words, Sam gave Finn a look Eartha couldn't interpret, said she needed to find Kostas, and squeezed Eartha's arm as she pulled away.
Finn turned to her; he loomed in her personal space. Eartha moved like a feinting fencer, trying to keep her distance. But he was now between her and the room, almost near enough for her to breathe him in along with his faint musky scent
"Eartha because of Eartha Kitt, I would guess." He grinned down at her.
She nodded, momentarily surprised anyone who wasn't black and raised by her Nanna would make the association. Well. A blacker-than-thou liberal might. She folded her arms across her chest.
"A great entertainer, verrry sexy" he said, deliberately rolling his 'r's in the back of his throat in the style of Ms Kitt.
Glib white boy.
She rolled her eyes inwardly.
Finn was Mr Nosey, too. He plied her with question after question; to her annoyance, she found she responded to his easy manner, and laughed at his wit.
She shifted slightly, angling herself away from him, and her left hand twirled at the loose hairs at her temple, a nervous habit from childhood. The memory of stinging blows from a switch came suddenly to mind; Nanna's way of trying to break her of the habit. She tucked the offending hand back into the crook of her right elbow.
His musk scent grew stronger. He was far too close. She tried to back away, but couldn't: emotionally because she was mesmerized; physically because her back was agains
t the wall between two windows.
"Tell me, why does Sam call you Earthly Girl?"
Get Bound to Rebel here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00F2WX8JG/
Bound to Submit
Part Two of a Series with Ashton Finn and Eartha Keane.
Read an excerpt:
Finn returned to her on the subway, large in her mind, and she played with the ends of her hair on her half-hour commute while gazing at her reflection in the darkened windows.
Could there be something he didn't like about her?
"Eartha, you still haven't given me your notes on the Stephenson summary." Her secretary Deidre had her head around the door and a frown on her face. "You know Marty said he wanted it done today."
With a start, Eartha realized that it was the second time Deidre had asked her about the report she should have read and annotated by lunchtime. Normally, if given something straightforward before nine - and Stephenson's work was in that category - she had it finished by ten.
Normally. The report lay on her desk, only half read. In her defence, there'd been two long meetings and a briefing. But it was after two. She'd found pie-charts turned into Finn's face when she looked at them too hard. And she had to look at them hard when checking for omissions. It wasn't very interesting work.
"I'll be finished shortly, Deidre, thank you."
Analytical Eartha gave herself a kick. Damn the man. Enough day-dreaming. She had to work. She ripped off the doodled-on desk-pad sheet and circular filed it.
But of course she thought about him on way home, and in bed where she came twice calling his name, and the next morning before their Partners and Associates meeting, during which she guessed she looked slightly out-of-it, because Marty asked if everything was all right.
She imagined him naked, erect, as he drove his hard cock into her - she caught herself reacting constantly - and was afraid someone would sniff out the reason she was distracted. There was always gossip in the firm about relationships formed or broken. Eartha had never been the subject of it and didn't want to be.
She kept to herself as much as she could, and stayed a table's distance from her colleagues at lunch.
Finn was too new and raw, and whatever they had was too altogether awkward. She didn't want to share even a rumor of him. What did they have? She asked herself that question more than once.
Sanity had returned on Friday when she woke. She was over it. If he'd been interested, he would have called, or responded to her messages. Or something. And he hadn't.
She wore a new blouse. She had two meetings planned, with Marty and prospective clients. Easy ones; straightforward. She was determined to help him replace the income they'd lost. She enjoyed demonstrating her command of the background issues, and could fill in blanks well. And it went all right until their second prospect used the word 'cross' quite innocently and it all flooded back, into both mind and pussy.
After that, Finn's blond mop wouldn't leave her. She lost the point she was making, and flushed hot. Surely it was visible. It was a day she was very thankful for dark skin.
"Are you ok, Eartha?" Marty asked, while they were doing the post-mortem over coffee after their meeting wrapped.
Eartha admitted to feeling out-of-sorts, which was entirely true, but what she did for herself in the women's rest room a few minutes later had nothing to do with an upset stomach.
She felt foolish leaving him another message, but she did.
Meetings done, she debated calling Sam. She drew a St Andrew's Cross on her desk-pad, usually an immaculate white space, but it had been well-used this week. A bit like her, she reflected. God, he had been good. She hadn't seen him for five days and wanted to see his smile.
She shrugged at no-one. It was almost late enough she could legitimately go home, and she'd been about to, as she couldn't concentrate on anything meaningful. But then he did call. Finally he did, in a moment when she wasn't thinking about him at all.
"How are you, my little slut?", he crooned, and the sharp retort she nearly made, because he'd kept her hanging, worrying, and wondering, turned to a purr.
She nearly melted at the sound of his voice. She leaned back in her chair, imagining his arms around her.
"Say my name," was his velvety command.
"Finn" she started to say, but it came out a soft and sibilant 'Master', to her relief.
"That's my little slut," he said warmly, then proceeded to dom her over the phone, spending an hour telling her where and how he was using her, alternately forbidding and then commanding her to touch herself, until she was ready to explode for need of him.
In the middle of it, she waved Deidre good night and the office fell largely quiet around her.
She decided to be bold. "When are you going to fuck me?"
Get Bound to Submit here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00F2WX8JG/
