by Roxy Sloane
This time, he slides into me slowly, inch by devastating inch.
I moan at the friction, the sweet rub of pleasure.
Holy shit.
“You feel that, my sweet?” his voice is hoarse and ragged. He shifts his weight, covering me with his body, pressing me hard into the mattress. “Every inch, baby. I’m going to give you what you need. Feel how your pussy clenches around me. You want my cock so bad, you can’t let it go.”
He withdraws, and I whimper at the absence.
“Don’t worry, darling. I’m not going anywhere.” He grips my wrists, pinning them into the mattress, and thrusts again, deeper.
Holy shit. A guttural moan tears from my lips and I rise up to meet him. I didn’t know I could feel a man this deep.
“I’m going to stay right here, fucking you the way you need. The way this sweet cunt has never been fucked before.” His voice is deliberate. Controlled. Driving into me with every deep stroke. “I won’t stop, not for anything. Not even when you can’t take it anymore. Because that’s when you’ll feel me more than ever.” His lips brush against my ear and his words shudder through me, sending white hot heat through my veins.
“When you’re begging. When you’re drunk on my cock, wet and gasping. I’m going to ride you, darling, ride you till you break.”
He suddenly slams hard. I cry out, bucking eagerly against him, but then he slows again, back to those thick sliding strokes that make me crazy. He moves his mouth over my bare chest, nipping at my nipples in a sharp rush of pleasure.
“More,” I gasp, struggling against his punishing grip. But he’s too strong, his body is dominating me completely: pinning me down, plunging into me. I’m totally at the mercy of his hands and teeth and relentless driving cock.
And god, I love every second of it.
The thrusts grow faster. He’s getting close too, I can feel it. His magnificent body is tense, breath ragged. I clench tight around him, and he groans. “Oh god, you feel so good.”
“You promised,” I realize, through the desperate haze of need. “You promised I would see your face.“
His body stills. His reply sounds agonized. “Once you do, there’s no going back.”
“I’m ready.” Even with the hard, slow strokes of his cock driving me crazy, I still feel the momentous weight of this moment.
No more secrets. No more hiding.
Nothing between us anymore.
He suddenly releases my wrists, scooping my body against him and rolling us so that I’m straddling his lap.
He surges up inside me, hitting my G-spot just right.
“Oh God!” I cry, clutching his shoulders. “Right there. Don’t stop!”
He rocks into me again, his dick rubbing high against my walls, his hips grinding against my clit. I swear, I’m igniting, fire blazing through my body. Every nerve is wound tight, every muscle in my body strung out and desperate for release. I’m beyond control now, moaning with every stroke. I dig my nails into his back, bearing down on his thick, driving rod, bucking against him to feel the stardust of friction in my clit. Inside, outside, everywhere, I feel him. His breath, hot against my throat. His fingers digging into my hips. His hard body, slick with sweat as we rock, and thrust, and devour each other’s bodies.
I can’t take it anymore, I’m hurtling to the edge.
“Please,” I sob, desperate. “I need to know you. I need to see your face.”
The shudder of climax is already gripping me, the glitter cresting through my veins.
He thrusts up inside me and grips my body tight, grinding me down on his cock, over and over.
“Now!” I cry, losing all control. “Now!”
I feel the tug against my blindfold, and then the silk falls away. I open my eyes, dazed and reeling, and finally see the face of the man whose cock is embedded deep inside me, pushing me over the brink.
Oh my god!
It is him. Ashton.
It was him all along.
I’m already too far gone to do anything but open my mouth and scream as the first stunning wave of climax rips through me.
Ash. Oh my god. Oh!
“JJ,” he growls, surging up inside me. He grabs my face in both hands and claims my lips in a punishing kiss.
I shatter into a supernova of pleasure, coming and coming and coming as his tongue probes deep, and his cock pounds hard inside me, and his mouth demands everything I have to give.
I feel him come in a hot spurt, his body convulsing against me.
I don’t know how long we lay, spent and gasping in each other’s arms. The pleasure finally fades, and I lift myself up to look down at him.
I can’t believe it. Ash, my Ash, is the mystery man. The one who has charmed and commanded me, driven me past the point of pleasure and pain.
The only man I’ve ever wanted.
The only man to break my heart.
He opens his eyes, those blue sapphires piercing through me with an unanswered question.
“That was our first kiss,” he says quietly. He reaches to brush a lock of damp hair back from my face, his gaze still searching.
I turn away.
“Our first kiss. And our last.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Discover THE SEDUCTION, the #1
bestselling series by Roxy Sloane. Available now!
THE SEDUCTION 1
All women look the same on their knees with their lips wrapped around my cock.
You like to think you’re different, special somehow. But trust me, I’ll have you wet and begging for it before you can think of all those bullshit, good girl reasons why not.
I'm your darkest secret. Your dirtiest fantasy.
Who am I?
The Seducer.
And I’ve never lost a case.
Until her. Keely Fawes. My mysterious new target.
Someone wants to destroy her -- and I’m their weapon of choice.
Her secrets could be my undoing. Her innocence will ruin me.
But I don’t care.
I’m going to show her how fucking good it feels to be bad. She’ll come screaming my name if it’s the last thing I do.
All four parts available now!
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Now take a special sneak peek of FILTHY BEAUTIFUL LIES, the sizzling new series from NYT Bestselling author Kendall Ryan!
FILTHY BEAUTIFUL LIES
By Kendall Ryan
I have no idea why she auctioned off her virginity for a cool mil. Regardless, I’m now the proud new owner of a perfectly intact hymen. A lot of good that will do me. I have certain tastes, certain sexual proclivities. My cock is a bit more discriminatory than most. And training a virgin takes finesse and patience – both of which I lack.
Sophie Evans has been backed into a corner. With her sister’s life hanging in the balance, the only choice is to claw her way out, even if that means selling her virginity to the highest bidder at an exclusive erotic club. When Colton Drake takes her home, she quickly learns nothing is as it seems with this beautiful and intense man. Being with him poses challenges she never expected, and pushes her to want things she never anticipated.
A sinfully seductive erotic romance where everything has a price and the cost of love is the highest of all from New York Times & USA Today bestselling author, Kendall Ryan.
PROLOGUE
Tonight I will be sold to the highest bidder. As I stand here in this quiet room, I try to find that little voice of reason telling me I’m doing the right thing. She’s nowhere to be found. Traitorous whore.
I meet my dim blue gaze in the mirror and remind myself that I’m entering into this arrangement knowingly, and by choice. Not the choice I want to make, certainly not my life’s ambition, but it’s a choice I have to make in order to save someone I love.
In another hour I will belong to someone – a man with s
ick needs and fetishes that propel him to purchase his companion rather than date a normal girl. Heaven help me.
CHAPTER ONE
Sophie
I’ve been told that I could go for more than two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and maybe more given that I’m still a virgin. The money will mean the difference between life and death for my twin sister and best friend in the whole world. It will mean I can pay the fees to get her into the experimental treatment program for advance stage ovarian cancer. We’re both just twenty-one years old and have barely lived. When she got cancer at age nineteen and had a hysterectomy, I promised her I’d carry her babies someday, a promise I intended to keep. And now she’s facing death in a matter of months if I don’t intervene, which is why I’m standing in the dimly lit dressing room applying my third coat of mascara and dressed only in a pair of panties.
I’d found out about this place completely by coincidence. A few weeks ago, I would have never believed places like this existed. I’d been searching online for money making schemes – something, anything, that could help me raise the three hundred thousand dollars we needed. My parents made ends meet, but just barely. So I knew it was up to me. My job searches turned out to be a joke. My skills could earn me minimum wage waiting tables. That’s when my internet searches got more interesting and my attitude bolder.
I agreed to an interview at a local strip club. As if the interview itself wasn’t embarrassing enough – being asked to undress in front of the club’s owner and prove my non-existent dancing abilities – when he’d asked how much money I hoped to make dancing and I said three hundred thousand dollars in the next few months, he’d laughed in my face and told me to get dressed. It was obvious to us both that based on my dancing skills, I’d never earn that kind of money. Let alone in my small Northern California town.
When he saw the tears swimming in my eyes and inquired about why I needed the money, I’d given him, a complete stranger, the entire sad story. Once I was dressed, he brought me into his office and made me promise that what he was about to say would stay only between us. The shifty way his eyes danced around the room told me whatever it was, it probably wasn’t legal. I didn’t care. I’d never so much as run a red light, but I was willing to do anything – go to any extreme to save Becca. I promised him complete secrecy. He asked how serious I was about saving my sister and warned that I wouldn’t like what he was about to tell me. That was how I learned about tonight’s auction.
Bill, the strip club owner, entered me into tonight’s bids. He’d arranged everything for a ten percent cut in my earnings. I’d seen a doctor, who tested me for pregnancy and STDs, and verified my virginity. Bill had also made me an appointment at a local salon for full body waxing and a makeover – a haircut with long layers and caramel highlights in my otherwise chestnut brown hair, along with a manicure and a pedicure. All of which would come out of my earnings too. If I didn’t sell, I would be responsible for paying him back. But Bill all but guaranteed I’d sell. He said that virgins were very rare and that someone so natural and beautiful would go for a high price. I just hope to keep my nerves under control so that I can actually follow through with this. I feel like throwing up and I haven’t even eaten all day.
I turn to the sound of a light tapping on my door and Bill pokes his head in. My arms fly over my chest as I try to cover my breasts. My modesty is pointless and a hysterical giggle bubbles up in my throat. All too soon I’ll be exposed to a roomful of men and expected to give my body to one of them, but I focus on maintaining my innocence while I still can. Bill raises an eyebrow at me. "Are you ready?"
I glance in the mirror one last time and draw a steadying breath. I look down at my toned legs, thanks to hours spent jogging – my only form of stress relief – to my stomach that is a bit softer than I would like, to my breasts that jiggle when I move. The eyes looking back at me are harder than before. Good. I will need that hard exterior to survive the next six months.
I hadn’t known this side of the world existed and now I was entering into it. I’m doing this for Becca, I remind myself. Drawing every ounce of strength I can, I uncross my arms from over my breasts and nod to Bill. "I’m ready."
His eyes give me a cursory once over. I’m grateful he doesn’t leer. "You look great. Very natural. That should work in your favor," he remarks, leading me from the safety of the dressing room.
I see what he means as we progressed down the hallway. There are a few other women ranging from early twenties to late thirties and each of them seemed to have embraced the stripper look – big hair and layers of thick makeup, red stained lips, fishnet stockings and sky high heels. All of them are wearing g-strings. I’d been told the only article of clothing allowed was a pair of panties so I’d chosen my most modest pair – light blue briefs with lace along the hem. They’re cute and feminine and comfortable. It had never occurred to me to try and make myself look sexier. Regret churns in my stomach. What if no one wants me? I’ll have done all this for nothing, plus owe Bill for the expensive makeover he provided. The concrete floor against my bare feet sends an icy chill up my body, pebbling my nipples into hardened points. My arms once again cross over my chest as I clutch my breasts.
I might be more covered than the other women, but somehow I feel more exposed. Completely ripped open for the world to see. I’m dressed as me, not some sexified version of myself that I can portray to the men waiting on the other side of that door. Suddenly I don’t want them to see the real me. I wanted to be caked in makeup with perhaps a long blonde wig and tassels hanging from my nipples. I could be whoever they wanted me to be. Instead I’m just Sophie and that seems much more dangerous to me. I can’t let my new owner get inside my head. He might be buying the rights to my body, but he’ll certainly never have the real me. I need to remember that.
When we stop outside a steel door, panic courses through my veins and my throat constricts, my gag reflex threatening to send bile shooting up my throat. I draw a deep breath through my nose and open my mouth to tell Bill I’ve changed my mind when his hand suddenly reaches out and twists the doorknob.
The door swings open to reveal a large, dimly lit room. The only light comes from a bare bulb that hangs directly above a platform-like stage in the center of the room. Men sit in lounge chairs facing the small round stage, their faces completely hidden in the shadows. I’m unable to distinguish a single feature, which I know is the point. The nature of tonight’s activities means they want their anonymity. And the kind of money that would be spent tonight bought you that right.
Bill gives me a gentle shove forward and whispers something of encouragement, but the blood pounding in my ears garbles the message.
My feet move across the room, my arms still crossed in a death grip across my breasts. The faint smell of cigar smoke assaults my senses as I move toward the platform. I keep my eyes trained on the floor, letting the swath of light from the single bulb hanging overhead draw me forward. My knees shake as I walk the final few steps.
Finally I step onto the raised platform and face the small group of men. Keeping my eyes downcast, I know in this moment I would have never been brave enough to strip for a whole audience. I can barely stand here without my knees knocking together and just remembering to pull air into my lungs and release it again seems beyond my abilities. But a spike of determination rips through me. I am here to save Becca.
A man standing in the shadows at the side of the room clears his throat. "I give you the ninth and final girl of the evening. And trust me when I tell you, gentlemen, that we’ve saved the best for last. She’s as pure and untouched as they come. She comes to us as a virgin, willing and fully in agreement with the six-month terms. Now, who’d like to start the bidding?"
It’s quiet for just a heartbeat and I wait for something to happen.
"Move your hands off your tits, angel," a man in the crowd says.
I raise my eyes toward the sound of the voice, but my hands stay where they are. A streak of defiance I di
dn’t know I had rears its head. No one owns me yet. Not a single bid had been placed. I still control my destiny.
I shift my weight, feeling that tingling sensation that means my foot is falling asleep and clutch my chest tighter as though I’m hanging on for dear life. My heart races in my chest and little beads of sweat form under my arms despite the cool temperature in the room. I can do this. I have to do this.
"Two hundred." The man’s voice who’d ordered me to uncover myself places the first bid. I hope that’s two hundred thousand and not two hundred dollars. It never occurred to me that I needed to have a minimum established before this began. I was not sleeping with some weird old man for two hundred dollars. But then I recalled Bill saying something about six figure minimums, and I relax the tiniest bit.
"Two fifty," another voice says. He sounds younger and has a slight Spanish accent.
"Three hundred," a third voice croaks.
Soon the price is up to five-seventy five and I feel dizzy listening to the whole exchange. I need to get off this stage before I pass out or throw up, or do something equally as terrifying, like go home with one of these sick men.
Be strong, Soph.
"Six hundred thousand," my tit-loving admirer counters. I don’t want to go to the man who I’ve already defied by refusing to show my chest. Knowing my luck, his first order of business will be to punish me for that act of disobedience.
"Greedy tonight. He already has one and now he wants a second," the announcer chuckles.
The man who is currently driving up my price has apparently already purchased one girl tonight and now he wants me too. Call me old fashioned, but I always assumed I’d be the only slave in this type of arrangement. I thought I was signing up for the typical one man–one woman experience. This wasn’t how I imagined losing my virginity, but I certainly never pictured being part of an orgy, or whatever he had planned. It disturbs me to think that he could buy us like cattle and force us to do things to each other and him. This whole process is going from bad to worse.
