There are lights on in the kitchen and one in the living room. Her path leads me up the stairs and into our bedroom. On the billowy comforter rests her purse, and the dim light of the bathroom pulls me forward. In the dressing room, I find her removing her lace shirt and carefully hanging it in the closet. Her pants come off next, and she tosses those in the hamper.
There’s nothing left but a tiny navy-blue thong. Her back to me, she hooks two fingers into the sides and then slowly drags the material down over the apple-round curve of her ass and her strong thighs. She bends as she pulls the fabric down, so that her ass is prominently displayed and I catch a glimpse of her swollen sex.
Bending almost in half, she finally steps out of the thong, leaving it to lie on the carpet of the dressing room as she stands up, dragging her hands up her legs and then her outer thighs. This display is all for me, and it’s working well.
“Come over and feel what you’ve made hard.” I crook my finger toward her. She saunters over to me, her feet still encased in high wedges with navy ribbons around her ankles. There are other places I’d like to see ribbons wrapped. Her thighs. Her wrists. Her neck.
There are so many fantasies I have, and only one lifetime to get them all in.
“You look like a fucking goddess.”
I don’t move from the door, wanting to see how far her boldness extends. As she walks toward me I can see small reflections of light glinting off the arousal painted on her thighs. My breath quickens, and my cock feels like it grows another inch.
“I’m horny,” she proclaims accusingly. “The looks you were giving me at The Plaza. The way you touched me in the car. You’ve worked me up.”
“Bunny, I’m going to take care of you.”
She stops in front of me and unhurriedly drops to her knees, dragging her hands down my legs. My hands go to my waistband, but she bats them away. “I’m going to get you worked up now. See how you like it. Hands up.”
Widening my stance, I lean against the doorjamb, not caring that it’s an uncomfortable position and the wood trim is digging into my back. I lift my hands behind my head in a gesture of surrender. “I’m ready to take my punishment.”
“Good. You don’t get to come until I tell you.” Her smile is naughty. Whatever game she wants to play tonight, I’m in. I’m so fucking in.
“I’m your humble servant.” And that’s the God’s honest truth. I’d do anything for her, including keeping my hands to myself and my orgasm at bay.
She unfastens my pants and drags down the fabric just enough that my cock springs free. With a soft hand, she cups my balls and pulls them above the constraining fabric. It’s like wearing too-tight clothes, but the extra tension is only making me harder.
Her hand smooths down my hard length. “How big are you?”
“Big enough,” I grunt as she pets the top of my circumcised head and then runs her finger under the bulbous tip.
“You’re bigger than the span of my fingers.” She stretches her hand out to display the deficit. Her pinky and thumb can’t reach the base and tip at the same time, falling a few inches short. “And you’re wide. It’s hard to get my mouth around you.”
She dips her head and sucks in the very tip of my cock. My hands clench behind my head in restraint. I want to reach for her head and shove my dick into her mouth and down her tight throat. We’ve done it once. She’s taken me so deep that her voice was raspy afterward. This is her show, I remind myself. With some effort, I force myself to relax as much as possible.
“It takes a lot of licking to get your whole dick wet.” Her little tongue laps at me, licking the edges and spending extra time laving the veins that stand prominently under the sensitive skin of my cock. “I’m going to have to use both my hands, it’s so big.”
Jesus. Can I die of a hard-on? Can I get so erect and so hard that I actually drop dead? Because I feel close to dying as she interlocks her two hands and starts squeezing her palms up and down my swollen member.
“Your body is a perfect fit for mine,” I tell her.
“I don’t know.” Her voice is tremulous, and I can’t tell whether that’s part of the act or whether it’s from her arousal. Maybe a bit of both. “It’s just so huge I worry that it won’t fit inside me. Maybe if I suck on it, it will get smaller.”
I release a strangled laugh. “Yes, let’s try that.”
“But you have so much come. Sometimes I can’t swallow it all. Sometimes it spills out the side of my mouth and dribbles onto my chin.”
The filthy, erotic picture she’s painting is making my entire frame shake with want. I switch my hands from cupping my head to gripping the wood trim, uncaring that the hard edges are biting into my skin. I need the pain to keep me upright. To keep me from throwing her onto her back and plunging into her like a fucking animal. Sides heaving, I manage to choke out an answer. “That’s okay. You can just wipe it off with your fingers.”
“Then should I lick my fingers?”
“Yes,” I groan. “You should lick it all up. It’s good for you. Lots of antibodies.”
“If you’re sure?” she says breathily. And then her mouth is on me. She takes me shallowly at first, humming a little so I feel the vibrations of sound rumble against my length. Her hands work my base in rhythm with her mouth in a steady, thrusting motion. My thighs tremble with the effort of standing upright. I need her to be with me. This gift of pleasure won’t feel as good if she isn’t going crazy also.
“Does it taste good, bunny? Did you miss having my fat cock in your mouth today? Did you think about me at your desk, laying you down and shoving my cock down your throat?”
She nods and moans around me, but doesn’t stop the pace.
“I thought of you today, all day. My pants were so tight. I thought about your hot little body wrapped around mine. I fantasized about your mouth sucking me down. I nearly passed out at the memory of your throat bulging with my dick and the raspy notes of want you voiced after I’d fucked your mouth and throat so hard. I wanted you to come to my office so I could hoist you onto the desk and pull down your panties. I imagine you, slick and ready for me. Your little lips swollen with need. Your moans fill my office as I devour you. While you’re still coming from your first orgasm, I slide my fingers inside and stroke you until you soak my hand as well.”
One hand abandons my cock to dip between her legs. Christ, that’s hot. I keep talking because I’m not supposed to touch her.
“What do you feel between your legs? Are you slippery? Do you feel empty? I can see your thighs clenching. Your body wants me to fill it up, doesn’t it?”
She takes me deeper, and whether it’s to shut me up or turn me on even more, I don’t know and I don’t care. At the first entrance into her throat, I’m speechless. Then she swallows and the muscles tighten all around me. I shout out a warning to her, “Goddammit, I’m coming.” She only sucks harder, and I come, barely keeping upright as my entire focus centers around my groin. Pumping almost helplessly against her, she holds my hips in her soft hands to keep me from choking her. And when she’s drunk it all down, my softened cock slips out of her mouth.
I loosen my grip on the wall to tuck one hand under her chin and tangle my other in her long brown strands. Tipping her head back, I search for visible affirmation that this is what she wanted. Her face glows in satisfaction, and in her eyes I see pride and power and confidence. Sinking to my knees, I take her mouth with mine as gently as possible. “You undo me,” I whisper against her lips and then kiss her even more tenderly, tasting myself on her tongue.
“I wanted that,” she croaks, the abrasion of her throat altering her tone. Impossibly, I harden again at the sound, as the memory of her swallowing me whole threatens to overwhelm me. With effort, I rise and pull her into my arms, carrying her into the bedroom.
As the high of the orgasm wears off, I feel an ache in my chest, thighs, and fac
e from the earlier beating. I keep the lights low so she can’t see any developing bruises. Pulling back the sheets with one hand as I hold her against my chest with the other, I lay her gently onto the bed and cover her with the comforter.
“Stay here,” I order. In the bathroom, I quickly wash my face, throwing the washrag in the trash after I see that makeup has soiled it. It takes a hard scrubbing to get it all off, and it’s almost more painful to remove the makeup from my bruises then it was to get the lacerations in the first place. Tomorrow I’ll have to ask Tiny exactly how women do it. Or maybe I’ll just watch her and discover it for myself. The clothes I borrowed from Kaga are tossed in the same bin.
Making sure most of the lights are out, I return to her. The disarray of the sheets reveals her restlessness. Kneeling by the side of the bed, I draw the covers back so her body is exposed. “Does my bunny ache?” I ask her, drawing my fingers down the center of her cunt.
“Yes,” she admits, her voice still hoarse.
“You’re going to have to make do with my mouth for now.”
“Bring it.” She gives a low, almost painful laugh.
I take my time, though, nuzzling her thighs and enjoying her spicy scent. Her arousal dampens my cheeks and nose as I re-acquaint myself with her treasure. With measured strokes of my tongue, I lap at her juices. This time I’m not a hungry bear marauding a buffet. I’m taking my time. This is a leisurely exploration of all the pleasure points that exist between her legs. And there are a lot.
Her little clit is stiff. I suck on it, flicking it with my tongue and enjoying the panting cries the action elicits. Her lips are engorged with blood, and though it is dark, I remember how they look: dusky and plump. I French those lips, sucking each between my lips and tickling the sensitive center with my tongue.
Two fingers slip into her, their passage made easy by her abundant arousal. Inside, I feel her hot and tight against my digits. Palm up, I stroke her with long, even caresses while I work the rest of her with my mouth. Every inch gets licked. Her inner thighs are the recipients of love bites, followed by soothing licks of my tongue, and finished by tender kisses. I might not mark her neck, but I’m going to leave signs of my invasion all over her legs. My beard growth gently abrades her, adding an extra layer of sensation.
Her hands alternate between pulling at my hair and pushing at the headboard for leverage. She moans and sighs and cries, a symphony of fucking accompanied by the juicy sounds of her cunt and my own groans as I feast on the delight before me.
All too soon she’s coming. Her thighs shake and tremble, and her cries are more frantic. “Ian, Ian, Ian,” she wails. Her chants of worship make me feel like a god. The blood is rushing from my head and hardening in my cock.
“Are you ready for me?”
“Yes, please,” she begs. “I need you.”
CHAPTER 12
Her legs fall open, and even in the dark of night I can see her glistening between her legs. My saliva and her come have mixed to form an erotic decoration of her body.
“Why are you stopping?” she whispers as I hesitate.
“I don’t know. I see you here, and I just want to worship you.” I run my hands down her sides, shaping her form. “You’re so beautiful.”
When her softness embraces the broad head of my cock, I close my eyes and savor the moment, knowing I should pull out right then and sheathe myself. But I don’t want to. She mindlessly urges me forward, her hands grasping at my ass cheeks and her thighs pulling at me. I slip an inch farther inside. It’s fucking heaven, and I don’t want to leave.
Her back arches and her head tips back, her entire body urging me to take her hard. I plunge inside her with one long stroke, enjoying the naked feeling of her ridged channel sliding against my bare flesh. She cries out. I bite my own lip to suppress a shout. Her heat surrounds me from crest to base. I still for a moment so that I can feel the small pulses as her sex stretches to accommodate me. A squeeze of her hand on my hip signals me that she’s ready.
I look down between us and wish there was more light so I could see in detail the way her folds part as I drag my cock slowly in and out of her. My shaft is slicked with her arousal, and the wet sounds of her slick passage are matched by breathless panting from both of us.
Leaning over her, I brace an elbow by her side so I can kiss all of the tender places I’ve stroked with my hand.
The cords of her neck stand proud as she arches into me. The tenseness of her body, the flush of her face, and the urgent way she claws at my back all tell me she is ready to come. I slip my free hand between us. Her clit is swollen and sensitive. When I press my thumb against it, she screams my name. The sound ricochets inside the bedroom and inside my head.
I work her steadily through her orgasm. Even when she whimpers “no more,” I don’t let up. There’s more inside her. “Ride it out, bunny,” I croon in her ear. She’s entering that pleasure/pain stage where every touch is electrifying, and she’s not sure whether it’s good or bad. On the other side is another more intense orgasm, and I want her to reach it.
Sitting up, I pull her legs together and clasp her around her thighs with one arm while I work her clit with my other hand. Her nails rake the back of my hand and my forearm, and she thrashes wildly on the mattress. “Come for me, bunny. Come,” I order. And then I feel her shatter beneath me. Her sheath squeezes my cock so tightly as she climaxes a third time that I nearly fall backward in ecstasy. She’s shaking, almost crying, as she comes down off the high.
I slip out of her and, with three harsh jerks, start to ejaculate, long spurts of come spilling over the tops of her thighs, between her legs, and onto the sheet. With a groan, I pump myself harder, until there’s nothing left inside me, and I collapse on the mattress beside her.
The sheets are torn loose from the bed corners, and beneath my legs I can feel the scratchy surface of the mattress cover. We are a sticky, sweaty mess, and I want nothing more than to lie there with her in my arms while she tries to absorb the power of the climax that just ripped through both of us.
“I don’t understand how it gets better each time,” she says finally, licking a bit of sweat off my chest.
“Because you’re like good whiskey, bunny. Each minute that ticks by makes you taste better.”
“Like twelve-year reserve?” she giggles.
“No, more like a one-hundred-and-twelve-year reserve. You taste any better and I’m not going to be able to spend even one minute without my face between your legs.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It can be an absolute fucking reality,” I tell her. Realizing that she might be uncomfortable, even if I’m not, I force myself out of the bed. With the adrenaline of the night having worn off completely, the aches and pains of the fight are making themselves known. Before I can prevent it, a slight moan escapes me.
“What’s wrong?” Tiny sits up. Her hair is tangled in a thousand knots. She’s never looked sexier.
“Nothing,” I reply before leaning over to kiss her, but she pushes me back before my lips can find their target.
“Is that a cut over your eye? Did I scratch you?” She sounds horrified.
“You did, but not there.” I present my back to her so she can see the evidence of her mindless excitement. They’re marks I’ll wear proudly. There are scratches on my forearms, ass, and thighs. I hope they burn when I shower.
“Then what?”
I realize I’m going to have to tell her something, and I don’t want to lie to her. She doesn’t deserve that. “Give me a minute.”
She nods, but I feel her gaze tracking me—and not in a sexual way. In the bathroom, I find a washrag and wipe away the sticky residue of my come and maybe even a little of hers. I toss the cloth on the floor and wet a second one for Tiny.
She’s still sitting on the edge of the ruined bed when I approach. I gesture for her
to lie back while I clean her up. “After I hung up with you earlier, I was attacked.”
Her hand grips my wrist, preventing me from using the cloth. A droplet of water splashes on her stomach, but she barely notices. “Where? Who did it? Did you call the police?”
“I don’t know who they are, and no, I didn’t call the police.” Gently, I move her hand and commence my task of wiping her clean.
“Why didn’t you call the police?” she nearly yells.
“Because I don’t think either you or I need the eyes of the law turned toward us, given what’s going on with Howe and Hedder.”
She falls silent and then, more subdued, asks, “What will you do?”
“Tomorrow Steve and I will discuss the matter. See what we can come up with.” While I’m not interested in lying to her, neither am I ready to confess that I’ve apprehended one of my assailants and currently have him locked in a windowless cell in Kaga’s basement. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him yet, and I’m not prepared to divulge that information to Tiny until I do. I don’t want him on her conscience. She has enough to deal with.
“Is that why you were late?”
“Yes, I had to change. Steve took me to Kaga’s, and his assistant applied some makeup to my face. I don’t know how you women stand it. I felt like a clown.” Finished with her, I toss the rag to the side. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to be able to sleep in this mess . . . however, I don’t know that I can make the bed,” I admit with not a little chagrin.
She rises and then pushes me away. “I’ll get the sheets.”
She marches me toward the bathroom, throwing on all the lights. I understand. She wants to see the evidence of the brawl. I’d want the same, so I swallow any impatience as she turns and inspects me. The light reveals what the darkness—and I—have hidden. The cut above my eye is beginning to swell and turn yellow and purple. Tomorrow it will be black and blue. The bruise above my cheekbone is light and looks only slightly darker than if I were flushed.
Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2) Page 12
