By the Hour (The Pleasure Principle Series #2)

by Roni Loren

  He found her most secret hot spot, right of center and just where she liked to touch herself when she was on a solo tour. The precision of the stroke was too much. Her fingers curled against the wall and she breathed through her teeth. “I can’t…not yet…”

  Lane kissed the back of her neck. “I’ve got all night, doc. And I’m patient as fuck. This won’t be the last one. I promise. Stop fighting.”

  She panted. Orgasm was beating down the doors, but she couldn’t give in. She had no idea why she was resisting still, but she found herself staving it off. Counting in her head. Doing anything and everything to lead away from what she knew would be full-on pleasure.

  Stop. She tried to push away the resistance, tried to let herself feel it, but her brain slammed the door shut again. Her fingers balled into a fist and tapped the wall. “Can’t…”

  He continued for a few seconds more but then paused as if her words had finally sunk in. “You’re not lying, are you? You really can’t give in.”

  The stillness of his fingers was torture. She rocked her forehead against the wall. She wanted to come, needed that release, but her brain and her body were battling.

  Before she could form any words to explain, Lane was backing up, the loss of his heat startling. He dragged her dress over her head, leaving her in her wrecked panties and lacy bra. “Remember your safe word, doc.”

  “What?”

  He lifted her off her feet without warning, cradling her against his chest. She gasped and blinked her eyes open, the sudden shift making her head spin. She peered up at him but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring straight ahead as he carried her into the hallway, a determined set to his jaw.

  “What are you doing?” The question popped out of her.

  He bumped open the door to her bedroom and set her down on the bed. He pointed a finger her way. “Don’t move.”

  Her lips parted, but he was out of the door in a flash. Her heartbeat picked up speed and her body throbbed with ultimate frustration, but for some reason, she didn’t get off the bed. A minute later, he came back with an armful of mint-green sheets—the ones from her guest room. “What the hell?”

  “Lay down,” he said as he knotted the fitted sheet to the top sheet. “I don’t have what I need but this should work.”

  “Work for what? And it’s lie not lay.”

  He looked up, smirking. “Are you really giving me a goddamned grammar lesson while you lie there with a soaked cunt and a fuck me look on your face?”

  The words were rude. Harsh. True as shit. And for some reason, sexy as hell. She let her gaze travel over him as he continued to tie the sheets and then lingered on the impressive outline in his pants. “You’re not exactly the vision of restraint either. Your dick’s about to shred the denim.”

  He gripped his erection and smiled. “Offering to make it better, doc? You can’t correct my grammar with a full mouth.”

  She leaned back on her elbows, following his earlier command. “I don’t give head. Not my thing.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Beneath you, huh?”

  No, I stopped when I tasted someone else on my husband. “Something like that.”

  “Lucky for you, I have something else in mind.” He walked over to the bed, put his hands on her shoulders, and guided her down. Before she could protest, he draped the sheet over her chest and tucked one side under the mattress.

  She had no idea what he was doing but found herself lying there and watching. He dragged the tied sheet fully beneath the mattress then yanked the other half out the other side. He grabbed the unsecured side of the sheet over her and knotted it to its partner, cinching it tight. The tug stretched the flat of the sheet over her shoulders, breasts, and stomach, pinning her arms at her sides and her body to the bed but leaving her bottom half exposed.

  Her breathing stuttered. “Lane?”

  “Take a deep breath for me.”

  She inhaled through her nose, filling her lungs and making the sheet pull tighter.

  He nodded. “See. You can breathe. Anything hurt?”

  “No, but—”

  “I didn’t ask for additional commentary. Your safe word or quiet from you, doc. Earlier you said you can’t come. But you really meant you won’t—not for me. Now you don’t have a choice.”

  Her muscles tensed as he stepped around to the end of the bed and stared down at her like a victor of war. He climbed onto the mattress and grabbed the thin fabric of her panties, dragging them down her legs and exposing exactly how he was affecting her. Her scent filled the air.

  He inhaled deeply and smiled, tracing his fingers over her sensitive flesh. “Let’s see if you taste as bitter as your attitude.”

  Oh, God. She didn’t have a moment to prepare herself before Lane was pressing his big hands on the backs of her thighs and opening her wide, exposing every private inch of her. Then, he lowered his head. His hot tongue swept over her like sweet, blessed fire, and she tried to bow up. But the sheets held fast, trapping her in place and not giving her any reprieve.

  Lane let out a soft grunt of pleasure. “Hmm. Not bitter at all. At least one part of you is very, very sweet.”

  And that was the last he spoke before he put his lips and tongue against her and made her goddamned world explode. He didn’t just tease her or lap at her like an eager dog. She’d found men tended to fall into one camp or the other. He did neither. He kissed her, open mouthed and sensual, sucking her flesh between his lips and circling her clit with his tongue as he slid two fingers inside her. It was slow and tortuous and downright worshipful. Like she was an instrument and only he knew the notes to the song.

  Her head tipped back and heat tracked up her body. The pressure of the sheet against her breasts only added to it, the restriction making the lace of her bra drag over her sensitive nipples. Everything was lit up, aware, needy. She tried to reach out to grab his hair to regain some control, but her arms were pinned. The effect only ratcheted her arousal higher. He required surrender.

  She hadn’t come for him, so he was going to force it out of her. It was a game. And suddenly, she wanted to play it.

  “You think that’s going to work?” she said between panted breaths and fingernails digging into the mattress. “You think you have some sort of magical talent for—”

  That was the last word she got out before he curled his fingers right against her G-spot and enveloped her clit with a circle of his tongue.

  Every resistant cell in her body flopped over in abject surrender, white flags going up, and release rumbled through her without warning, making her jerk and quiver against the bindings and cry out against her will.

  He didn’t stop. He didn’t soften his assault. He continued the magic dance of his fingers and tongue, and somehow, she found herself climbing to the next level of orgasm. The kind that made her sound as if she’d been stabbed with something sharp.

  Later, she’d probably be embarrassed about the noises she was making, but right now, she couldn’t think to care. She was tied down and a beautiful, supremely annoying man was going down her like he was giving a master lesson in how to make a woman scream. Maybe he was. She was a mere example in his imaginary seminar. Look how subject A writhes when I rub my fingers against her G-spot. And listen to how she cries out when I massage her clit with my tongue. Observe how her back arches and her pussy clenches when I lick her juices off her like I’m starved for her taste. I am starved for her taste.

  The last thought had her cresting, and when her cries turned to wordless gasps and she didn’t think she could take any more, Lane finally eased back. The loss of his warmth almost made her call out for him, but she bit back the urge and panted through the end of her release.

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  She had to get herself back together, find her thoughts so she could deal with him again. Keep the game going.

  But he didn’t give her time. The sound of a zipper dragging open had her eyelids lifting. Lane stood at the edge of the bed as he unfas
tened his pants, forearms working, his gaze hot on her, almost mean. Like he was annoyed he wasn’t inside her yet. Like it was her fault. Like he was going to make her pay for it.

  That look did things to her it shouldn’t.

  But she couldn’t let her focus get hung up in those eyes of his. That was too much. Plus, he was pulling off his shirt and, Christ, the man was something to behold. Broad-shouldered and muscular, more bulked up than she typically was drawn to, but goddamn, did it work on him. Her gaze tracked over the dusky trail of hair that led down to his waistband. The waistband he was opening.

  Her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth as he tucked his hand in to adjust his erection before sliding his jeans and boxer briefs down his hips. His long fingers wrapped around the shaft of his thick cock and stroked, causing everything inside her to clench. A bead of moisture gathered at the tip and he deftly rolled his thumb over the head, making it glossy. There was something unbearably erotic about the way this man handled his body—so confident and without shame. It was a promise. I know what to do with this. How to make myself feel good. How to make you feel even better.

  She could watch him stroke himself like that and never get tired of the show, but she tried to pull her expression into one of boredom. “You just going to jerk off all night or are you going to use that thing?”

  He smirked as he continued the slow strokes, spreading more fluid gathering on the head down his shaft. “Maybe I’ll just stand over you and make you watch. Get your sheets all messy. You’d look pretty covered in my come.”

  On a different guy, the words would’ve sounded straight out of porn but coming from him, it raised goose bumps. She could picture him doing just that, could imagine how it would feel to have his hot release sliding over her bare skin.

  His sly smile went crooked in a deliciously evil way. “And someone likes that idea. You’ve got layers of filthy thoughts in that head of yours, don’t you?”

  “Maybe I figure that would be easier, seeing as I’ve already come and gotten what I need.”

  He stepped to the edge of the bed and grabbed the condom he’d tossed onto the sheets. He rolled it on while keeping his eyes on her. “Oh, no, I promise, you haven’t gotten near what you need tonight.”

  Before she could respond, he released the knot on the sheet and grabbed her ankles. He tugged, dragging her body out from under the bindings until her ass was at the edge of the bed and he was looming over her. All her breath had left the minute he’d pulled on her, and now she had no chance at regaining it. Not with him standing between her knees, cock in hand and gloriously naked. But now that she was free, she tried to lift herself up and flip over.

  Two big hands captured her and pushed her onto her back again. “Not so fast, doc. I didn’t tell you to turn over.”

  His palms pressing against her shoulders made her squirm, but the fight was making her burn hot again even though she’d just had an orgasm. “I come easier if I’m on my hands and knees.”

  Truth. Sort of. Turning her back always made it easier to focus on the sensations. To block her partner out.

  “Well, good news, this portion of the festivities isn’t for you. It’s for me. And I want to watch your face when I fuck you.”

  He kept his hands on her shoulders but lifted a brow, as if asking a question, and she realized he was giving her a chance to tell him no, to use her safe word. But that would be a version of losing, and she didn’t want this to end right now. She wanted it on her terms, but not enough to pull the parachute cord. She’d just close her eyes. “You’re a selfish bastard. I thought you were supposed to be the sensitive, giving surrogate.”

  He rubbed his cock along her crease, teasing her. “Only with people I like.”

  “Only with people who pay you.”

  His jaw clenched and he angled forward, entering her without warning and burying deep.

  Her body was so slick, it welcomed the invasion, but the surprise of it and the delicious fullness of his cock had her gasping. Her head tipped back and she tried not to look so affected, but it was useless. Her muscles flexed around him and her fingers curled into the sheets.

  Lane let out a quiet groan, a little break in his own cool facade, and he braced a hand alongside her as he pulled almost all the way out and then sank home again. The glide of his heat against hers was like scratching the deepest, most satisfying itch. Goddamn, she hadn’t realized how much she needed this, that feeling of being joined, of having a gorgeous man filling her. He put a hand behind her knee, opening her farther, and pumped into her with long, slow strokes that made her nerve endings sing with pleasure. She closed her eyes, letting herself fall into the oblivion of it.

  “Look at me,” he said, the words a low rumble.

  “Hmm?” Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality.

  A hand slipped behind her neck and squeezed. The sudden change caused her eyes to pop open. Lane’s face was inches from hers, his eyes ablaze. “Look. At. Me.”

  Elle licked her lips, her heart pounding high in her throat. He was so close that she could see flecks of gold in his green eyes and the intensity burning there. The eye contact had her anxiety surfacing. She didn’t do the intimacy thing. She didn’t fuck face to face, much less eye to eye. But he pumped into her again and held her gaze. Somehow, she couldn’t look away. He was daring her not to look away.

  “That’s right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me, Elle. That’s who’s making you feel good. The hooker from the X-wing. Ask me to make you come again.”

  She swallowed hard, her pride and the need in her body having a throwdown. “I don’t beg, Cannon. I’m not one of your submissives.”

  “You used the word beg, not me. Are you feeling tempted to beg?” He shifted his hips, angling right against that sensitive spot inside her and tucking his hand between them to provide maddening friction to her clit. “Because, boy, would that be a feather in my cap.”

  She took a shuddering breath, trying to breathe through the need. “Fuck you.”

  “Already doing that. Effectively, based on the look on your face.”

  She closed her eyes, but he tapped his forehead to hers. “Look at me, McCray. Look at me or I’m going to kiss you, and I know you don’t want that.”

  Her eyelids flew open. She’d never had anything against kissing. She’d done it with other guys, had kissed Donovan. Could keep it separate and label it just another physical act. But the thought of kissing Lane sent fear through her. “Don’t. Please.”

  His lip curled. “And that, you beg for.”

  There was something wrapped up in those words, but before she could process them, he picked up his pace and, despite his demands on her, he closed his eyes. There was no stopping her reactions now. His fingers and the rhythm of his body pumping into hers were driving her past the point of control. But despite her railroading hormones, she couldn’t keep her gaze off his face. Now that he wasn’t looking at her, she could take in the view. The glisten of sweat on his brow, the hard jaw, the way his hair was curling at his temple. He was beautiful and lost to the moment. Lost to her.

  Suddenly, she missed his eyes on her, missed seeing that ferocity. She lifted her hand to move his hair away from his brow, but then caught herself. This wasn’t a time for tenderness. Not here. Not with him.

  So she let her head fall back, sank into the pleasure of their bodies joining and his adept fingers working her, and let it all go. The cry that came out of her sounded distant to her ears and light tracked behind her eyelids as she came. He wasn’t far behind, his composure falling away as he grunted and groaned. He grabbed her hard and sank as deep inside her as he could get, roaring with his release.

  Her body shook with the force of their orgasms, everything trembling like a tuning fork until all the tension left her and she melted into a puddle on the bed. He pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, their eyes still closed, their breathing heavy, and bodies quietly joined.

  The moment felt unbear
ably intimate and for some reason, she wanted to cry.

  The urge had her planting her hands on his chest and easing him away. He went without resistance and slipped out of her. She rolled onto her side, putting her back to him.

  A hand touched her hip. “You okay, doc?”

  The concern in his tone and the gentle touch only made the anxiety welling in her worse. “I’m fine. The bathroom has fresh towels if you need to shower.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and she worried she’d have some sort of panic attack if he didn’t go away. Right. Now. But finally, he moved his hand from her. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

  She swallowed past her parched throat. “No rush.”

  Take all the time you need. Please.

  Because she needed to be alone to get herself back together. And then she needed to get him the hell out of her house.

  Chapter 3

  Lane toweled off in the small, pristine bathroom and tried to get his head together. He’d started the day at school, facing yet another failing grade and having a spectacularly shitty meeting with his professor, and then had somehow ended the day in bed with Dr. Elle McCray. Not just in bed with her—but hate-fucking and playing kinky games and enjoying himself way too much. There was a twist he hadn’t anticipated.

  Much to his shock, the normally frosty doctor had been into it, too. She’d tried to fight it, had tried to pretend like it wasn’t doing it for her, but she wasn’t that good of an actress. And man, when she came, she really didn’t hold back. He loved when a woman dropped all self-consciousness and just owned the pleasure of it all, not caring how wild she sounded or how unraveled she looked. He wouldn’t have guessed Elle would be the type to let go like that. The woman was sexy as fuck.

  But mean as hell.

  He hated to admit it, but her obvious aversion to kissing him had stung. Knowing her, she’d probably thought of all the potential places his mouth had been and deemed it unworthy of touching hers. Maybe she had a right to think that. His rap sheet in that department was long. But it had brought back the old days, when he was the hired help and women were happy to have their bodies kissed by him but not their lips.