Thrust

by Becca Jameson

  By the time he had the salad in a bowl and the sauce simmering with the meat, her shirt was hanging open.

  It was difficult to concentrate with her full breasts teasing him with the creamy cleavage between them, her white skin a stark contrast to the navy silk.

  After she directed him how to prepare the bread, he slid the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms. He set it on the counter on the other side of her and leaned down to kiss the swell of both breasts.

  She arched into him, moaning. Her hands lifted from her thighs to thread into his hair.

  “Uh-uh,” he mumbled as he lifted his face. “Keep your hands on your lap where I put them.”

  She lowered them, moaning louder.

  And that, my sweet, is D/s.

  “Now, where were we?”

  “You were about to kiss me.”

  “Nope. That wasn’t it.” He tapped his lips with one finger and then snapped his fingers. “Oh, right. The pasta. It’s probably almost done.” He turned around to test a piece.

  “Ivan…”

  The pasta was perfect. And the room filled with the spicy aroma of the sauce.

  “What next?”

  “Pour it in the strainer. For the love of God, pour it in the strainer, dump it in with the sauce, stir it up, put it on plates. Eat it.”

  He kept his back to her as he worked, combining the pasta and sauce and then carrying it to the table.

  After transferring the salad and bread to the table also, he spun around to face her.

  She was gorgeous. Her cheeks were rosy from arousal. Her nipples were puckered enough he could see their indentation through her bra. Her eyes were glazed over.

  Perfect.

  Gorgeous.

  Sexy as hell.

  He lifted her off the counter and set her on the floor. Catching and holding her gaze, he worked his fingers around the edge of her jeans from the base of her spine to the front. When he popped the button, she sucked in a breath. When he lowered the zipper, she held the same breath.

  He shimmied her jeans over her hips and tapped her feet until she lifted first one and then the other out of them.

  Wearing nothing but her bra and the fucking sexiest matching panties he’d ever seen, she made it difficult for him to carry on this farce and force them to eat dinner before they moved on to more entertaining endeavors.

  But he somehow managed to lure her toward the table.

  He sat in the chair at one end and hauled her onto his lap.

  Chapter Seven

  Alena felt like she was in a trance, or maybe a dream. Whatever it was, she was torn between wanting it to last longer and wanting him to stop the madness.

  What was his aim?

  When her ass hit his jean-clad thigh, she squirmed.

  He trapped her legs between his at an angle. “Sit still.”

  He filled his plate with food while she watched, noticing there was only one plate. Good. Maybe he’d taken her word for it that she wasn’t in the mood to eat.

  But nope. That wasn’t his game.

  He lifted a bite of salad to her lips on his fork. “Eat.”

  She glanced at him and then back at the fork. Shit. Without much choice, she took the bite.

  He held on to her waist with one hand behind her. With his other, he filled his fork with another bite of salad and ate it himself. And then he went for the spaghetti, twisting the pasta around the fork until he had the perfect bite.

  As she suspected, he fed her the rich tomato sauce and noodles.

  Her stomach must have sensed the new plan, because it began to unclench as she found she was hungry.

  After a few more bites, while she licked her lips, he dabbed her mouth with a napkin. And then he offered her a drink of water.

  She’d never thought a meal could be so sensual.

  But this was hot. Sexy. Amazing.

  She should have listened to him instead of fighting him on this. He knew what he was doing.

  With one hand toying with the skin of her hip, he used the other to continue to feed both of them. Occasionally he dipped his face and kissed the swell of her breasts. Every time, she arched into him, thrusting her chest forward while more moisture flooded her panties.

  Was this his brand of D/s? Because if it was, she was in.

  When she was full, she shook her head. And surprisingly, he stopped offering her bites. A few minutes later, he was also done, and he pushed the plate away.

  Can we please move to the bedroom?

  Apparently not.

  Shocking her, Ivan lifted her off his lap and set her on the table where he’d just pushed the dishes away.

  He stood and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Sit up straight. Hands on your thighs. Up or down, I don’t care. Whichever is more comfortable.”

  She nodded as she did his bidding, no longer interested in questioning his motives. She watched as he put the leftovers in the fridge and cleaned up the kitchen.

  He didn’t come back to her until everything was perfectly tidy, including the black shiny surface of the table all around her.

  When he returned, he set his hands on the table at her sides and kissed her lips gently.

  She didn’t think she could be more aroused. She’d never felt even close to the way she felt right then, and she was still wearing her bra and panties. And Ivan was still completely clothed.

  She wasn’t about to point this out, however. Even though she wanted him to take off at least his shirt at this juncture.

  She’d seen his chest many times in the last few months. It was impressive. She couldn’t see his back at the moment, but she could picture it in her mind. The tattoo that ran across his shoulder blades made her lick her lips. Every. Single. Time.

  But Ivan kept his shirt on for some unexplainable reason. He eased a hand up her back while he deepened the kiss and lowered her entire body to the smooth cold surface of the table.

  As if he’d read her mind, he reached behind his neck with one hand and dragged his shirt over his head.

  Thank God.

  His bronzed torso was perfection. She’d seen it many times and never tired of the view.

  But then he shocked her some more when he set the T-shirt over her eyes, blocking out everything in the room.

  She whimpered. “Ivan?”

  He cupped her face, arranging the cotton material that smelled amazingly of Ivan until it draped over her eyes but didn’t block her nose or mouth. “Don’t move. Stay still enough that your eyes remain covered.” He trailed a finger down her neck and between her breasts.

  She squeezed her legs together where her knees hung off the edge of the table.

  Ivan lifted her hands and drew them over her head to set them on the table. “Leave your hands here,” he whispered close to her ear.

  She shivered, goose bumps rising on her entire body.

  “That’s it, baby. Trust me?”

  “Yes.” Implicitly.

  His finger roamed down between her breasts again, teasing the sensitive skin.

  She arched.

  “Careful. Don’t let my tee fall off your face.”

  Oh. God. Oh. God.

  He traced the edges of her bra. Over and over. His fingers dipping under the lace gradually. By the time he reached inside far enough to flick her nipples, she was so aroused, she screamed out his name.

  “That’s it. So sexy. Remember the T-shirt.”

  Damn him and his T-shirt. She fisted it above her head, as if that would help. Maybe it would. It gave her something to ground her hands and remind her about the shirt.

  When he flicked open the front clasp of her bra, her breasts popped free, heavy globes that seemed two sizes bigger than normal.

  “I didn’t say anything this morning, but your nipples are gorgeous.” He circled one and then the other, not touching them.

  She bit her lower lip to keep from squirming too far or screaming too loud. She wanted to beg him to please make love to her. But he had his own timetable,
and he’d made it clear her opinion was worth nothing.

  His fingers disappeared from her chest to smooth down her body, her waist, hips, thighs… When he reached her knees, he lifted them, scooted her back a few inches, and set her heels on the table.

  And then he pushed them farther apart and leaned his huge body between her legs.

  Jesus. It was too much. She was going to come. He hadn’t touched her. How embarrassing would that be?

  She felt so exposed, when in reality, she still wore her panties and he’d already seen her naked earlier in the day.

  He leaned forward farther, forcing her legs apart so he could get to her chest. He cupped her breasts and stroked his thumbs across her nipples.

  And then he simultaneously pinched one while sucking the other between his lips. His tongue flicked the distended tip, forcing a moan from her mouth.

  “Mmm. Delicious. I knew you’d taste amazing.” He switched, his other hand working her nipple in a tight pinch and twist while his mouth descended to suckle its mate.

  The cool air of the room hit the tip the second his mouth released it with a pop.

  She would have arched again, but he set a hand between her breasts and applied subtle pressure. “Alena…” he warned.

  What would he do if the T-shirt fell from her eyes? She wanted to know. It was almost worth the risk. But she decided against it. For now.

  Ivan nibbled around her breasts until they were so swollen they felt like they would explode, and then he kissed a path down her belly to the edge of her panties.

  Wrapping his palms around her shins, he pushed her legs up and out. Farther. So far she could feel the stretch. Her panties were still on, but the exposure was only slightly dampened. She felt his gaze on her sex. Her lace-covered sex.

  Why did he leave the silk and lace on her?

  He planted gentle kisses on her thighs, working his way toward her center, switching back and forth to treat them equally.

  When his lips landed on the spot above her sex near the edge of her panties, she tried to lift her hips. But a hand landed on her waist and pressed. “Don’t move. If you do, I’ll stop. If you can remain still, I’ll take you to the moon.”

  Oh God. She forced her hips flat on the table.

  “Good girl. Keep your ass on the table.”

  Her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t swallow. Her lips parted. She had masturbated plenty in her life, but she’d never been this aroused. This close to the edge without going over.

  It was like a natural high. And she wanted more of whatever he was giving out.

  She willed him to remove her panties and his jeans. Surely he would take them off soon and push into her. Even if he did it here on the table, it would be perfect.

  Instead, his mouth lowered to her sex, and he nuzzled her folds through the silk. And then he inched his face up until her clit was between his lips. Through the lace, she felt the warmth of his breath. He suckled her.

  She wanted more. Direct contact.

  No man had ever done this to her. In fact, today she’d had her first kiss too. But this was so much more. More intimate. Amazing. And she was doing this with the man she’d been in love with for weeks.

  His tongue flattened on the silk between her folds, pressing it against her wetness.

  She dug her heels into the top of the table, fighting the urge to lift her hips.

  Releasing her thigh with one hand, he reached between his mouth and her sex, tucked a finger into the side of her panties, and pulled the center away from her lower lips.

  Alena moaned. Loudly. She could feel his gaze penetrating her, staring at her most private parts. She gritted her teeth, tipping her head back until her neck arched. It was the only thing she could do and keep the shirt in place. And even that was a struggle. She pressed the sides of the cotton down against the table with her elbows.

  When his tongue landed on her sex and stroked through her folds, she nearly fainted.

  He pressed harder, doing it again and then dipping his tongue inside her.

  Holy Christ.

  He stopped tasting her to mutter several things she barely heard. “You’re amazing. So unbelievably gorgeous spread out like this. I know it would be fruitless for me to demand you not come until I say so, so I’m not going to. Feel free to come any time you want.”

  And then his lips were on her swollen lower ones, his tongue diving back inside to thrust in and out, imitating what she really craved.

  Her mind went blank. She saw swirls of colors behind her eyelids. She clasped the shirt above her head more firmly. Her knees shook. He held her with one hand and one shoulder.

  And he fucked her with his tongue.

  The second he pulled her panties farther back, exposing her clit, he set his thumb on the swollen nub.

  She came. Hard. The pulses waved in without warning. Taking over her mind until all she knew was the unbelievable high of orgasm.

  When she finally floated back to Earth, she realized she also floated back to the table. Her ass was off the surface, suspended in the air where she’d lifted it to meet his thrusts and lips.

  Slowly she lowered back to the cool tabletop.

  Ivan grabbed his T-shirt and tugged it away from her eyes, unable to fully extract it from her hands.

  His gaze was intent as she focused on him. His eyes drawn slightly together even though a smile curved up the corner of his mouth incongruently. He eased his eyes shut and breathed deeply.

  She couldn’t find words. So she waited.

  It seemed like minutes passed when probably it was only seconds.

  She was aware of every inch of her body. Her breasts swayed with every heave for oxygen. Her nipples were puckered and sensitive.

  Wetness had leaked from her sex to soak the panties he’d released back over her opening. Her clit throbbed under the lace.

  Amazing.

  She’d never felt so good in her life.

  But what stood out in the midst of her heightened sense of self was the fact that Ivan had his jeans on. And they had not had sex yet.

  Now?

  After the best orgasm of her life? Shouldn’t he have waited until he was inside her to push her over the edge?

  She was about to point this out and was growing restless under his scrutiny when he spoke.

  His words were distinct. His tone authoritative. Definitive. Brooking no argument. He didn’t ask her a question or make a suggestion. He told her exactly how it was.

  “You’re mine, Alena Dudko.”

  Chapter Eight

  Alena woke up with a start, disoriented for several seconds, bolting to a sitting position before she was fully alert.

  She glanced around.

  She was in her room. Same lavender sheets. Same white comforter. Same light wood furniture. But something was different…

  The sun was just rising, its rays peeking through the blinds. It was early.

  And then she felt the cool air of the room on her chest and glanced down. She was naked from the waist up.

  It all tumbled back in a rush.

  Ivan demanding she instruct him to cook dinner…

  Ivan feeding her…

  Ivan spreading her on the table and giving her the best orgasm of her life…

  Ivan claiming her without mincing words…

  Ivan lifting her gently in his arms and carrying her limp, sated body to her bedroom to deposit her in her own bed, tucking the covers around her and kissing her forehead.

  What had he said?

  “Sleep, baby.” And then he’d left her there, her eyes too heavy to protest. Her brain overloaded with sensation until she’d reached the breaking point.

  He’d left her alone?

  Why?

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and found a tank top on the floor from the day before. As she tugged it over her naked chest, she padded from the room in search of Ivan.

  The smell of coffee lured her toward the kitchen. She found him there, leaning against the
counter, wearing nothing but a worn pair of low-hung jeans, legs crossed at the ankles, head tipped toward his phone.

  For a moment she didn’t take another step, just stood there staring at him, memorizing the moment so it would last for the rest of her life.

  He must have sensed her because he lifted his gaze, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Morning. You sleep okay?”

  She continued padding forward, aware she wore nothing but a thin, tight, white tank top and the navy panties from last night. When she got close enough, he reached out a hand and hauled her against his body, chest to chest.

  He separated his legs, and she had to straddle one to get as close as he wanted her to be. The pressure of his thigh against her sex made her mind flash back to scenes from last night. She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his warm, smooth pecs, wrapping her arms around him and inhaling his scent deeply.

  He hugged her tight, setting his chin on the top of her head.

  “Why did you leave me?”

  He eased his hands up her back and over her shoulders until he could cup her face and thread his fingers into her hair, and then he tugged until she tipped her neck back to meet his gaze. He searched her gaze with his deep, brown eyes. Intense as usual. “You were exhausted. You needed to sleep.”

  “You could have stayed.” She tried not to let a pout leak into her words.

  “Not if I intended to keep my hands to myself.”

  Now she frowned. “And why would you do that?”

  One hand slid down to stroke her cheek. “What’s your rush?”

  Her heart beat faster. She licked her lips. “I thought…” I thought you were going to make love to me.

  He bent his head to kiss her lips in a brief stroke. “Gonna do this. Gonna do it right.” He tapped her nose. “Don’t rush me. I’ll claim you fully when I think you’re ready and not a second before. No amount of teasing or sassing is going to get you what you want. You can wander around here wiggling your sweet ass in those barely existent panties and a tank top that hides nothing, but it won’t get you to the finish line any faster.”

  She sighed. “Seriously?”

  He nodded. His hand slid down from her face to her ass to grip it firmly, his entire palm covering the globe. He tugged her tighter against his thigh, lifting her slightly onto her toes.