Before she could answer that yes, she definitely needed to be fucked like a naughty little slut, he lifted her in his arms. “Your bedroom?”
“Second door down the hall,” she answered, clinging to his neck.
Is okay to be scared. Is okay to be scared.
She repeated it to herself as he carried her down the hall and kicked the door shut behind them. She repeated it as he stripped off her sleep pants and panties and pushed her back on the bed, draped her legs over his shoulders, and started licking her pussy like a starving man. Oh my God.
She had plenty of sexual experience, but this felt like the first time. The sensation, the surge of erotic excitement felt totally new. She shuddered as his tongue flicked over her clit, his warm breath teasing her senses. No man had ever gone down on her like this, forcing her thighs wide open and exploring every orifice, doing as he pleased to her, so that she felt like the submissive one. His fingers tightened on her thighs and she felt so controlled that, for a moment, she felt a frisson of fear.
Is okay to be scared.
“Oh, please,” she cried, reaching to grasp at his hair. Please don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop. He licked her everywhere, from her slick labia to her clit to the sensitive bud of her ass. His mouth was magic. His tongue found her most responsive spots and relished them until she thought the pleasure would break her mind. Flick, lick, nibble. Oh, what the hell was he doing? She was torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
He took the choice from her, grabbing her hands and holding them out of the way, so all she could do was cry out and buck under his ministrations. Her pelvis ached with the pressure of quick, fierce arousal.
“Is okay,” he said, tightening his grip on her fingers. “Come for me. I want it.”
She couldn’t move her hands or her legs, or anything without him allowing it. She squeezed her fingers into fists as his tongue flicked and laved the most sensitive spot of her core. “Oh, please, please, don’t...don’t stop...”
He said something she couldn’t decipher, something low and lyrical in Portuguese, and he didn’t stop. As for her, she could no longer talk, only make helpless animal sounds. When her orgasm finally broke wide, her walls crashed together in an almost painful release. She cried out, a loud, long sob, which was not at all like her. She was always quiet in bed, self-conscious and controlled, but he had stripped that control from her. He brushed kisses across her clit as the aftershocks rolled through her body, and then he kissed her lightly on the inside of each of her thighs.
“I wanted you,” he said against her skin. “I wanted that for a long time now.”
She whimpered in agreement. She wanted it too, again and again. He released her hands and she reached for his face, to touch him, to come to terms with the idea of rude, infuriating Rubio bringing her such feverish elation. He pressed a kiss against her palm and backed away from her.
“Don’t move,” he said. “Rest a minute. More is coming.”
More? Of course there was more. There was still his masterpiece of a body to enjoy. She watched as he stripped beside her bed, quickly, without inhibition. Shoes, shirt, jeans, boxer briefs, socks. He was garishly hard. He dug in his jeans pocket and straightened with a couple of condoms in his hand.
“See,” he said, holding them up. “Safe sex. No problems.”
He keeps condoms in his pocket, she thought. He was a manwhore. She needed to remember that. A few hours ago, he’d been running around naked in a sex dungeon. This would have to be just for play, for enjoyment. It would be all too easy to fall head over heels and sacrifice everything, her entire career, for this hedonistic playboy. No.
He came to the bed and crawled over her, his arms trapping her on either side. His heavy cock fell against her belly, a jutting threat that made her feel scared again, but it was a delicious fear. He cradled her and rubbed his cheek against hers. “Is okay,” he said. “Will feel good, to have me inside you. Maybe I hurt you a little, but you’ll like it.” He delivered a sharp slap to her outer thigh, to the same place he’d cropped her earlier.
She struggled in reaction, because it turned her on when he fought back and pinned her down. He slid a hand into her hair and closed his fist. He pulled until he bared her throat and then he licked her from below her jaw to the base of her throat. There was a teasing slide of teeth—he could have bitten her. She kind of wanted him to, but instead he flipped her over and arranged her on her hands and knees. He knelt behind her, his arms on either side of her, his muscled torso along her back like a wall. She’d been body to body with him many times at the theater, in rehearsals and ballets, but never like this.
He leaned back and smacked her on the bottom, right below the curve of her ass cheek. She whimpered and tried to wiggle away but he stilled her with his two giant hands. He spread her cheeks and she shuddered. He could see all of her, every secret part of her as he held her open. It was awful but she felt turned on too, used and manipulated. When he moved his palm down and groped her, she lost her nerve and collapsed on her stomach, trying to turn away from him.
“No, up.” Another sharp slap to her ass, then another. “On your hands and knees.”
She scraped together her courage and obeyed him because she didn’t want this to end. Her knees were shaking and her arms felt like twigs but she held the pose as he spanked her again, and again. Her ass throbbed, the shape of his hand prints like a blazing brand. She didn’t know what bizarre mental-physiological impulses were at work, but the more he spanked her, the more she wanted him to fuck her. Despite the fact that she’d come just a few moments earlier, she wanted him deep inside, riding her hard, overpowering her. She heard the sound of the condom wrapper.
Thank you, God. She looked back over her shoulder as he rolled the condom over his thick length.
“I’d make you suck me first,” he said, eyeing her mouth with a lurid twist to his lips, “if I didn’t want your pussy so bad.”
She thought wildly of her dreams, of Rubio’s cock growing bigger and bigger in her mouth. As much as she’d fantasized about it, she was glad it wasn’t on the menu tonight because she wanted him inside her, not choking off her breath. Once he’d double checked the condom, he grabbed her hips and eased her back onto his rigid cock. He was so big, it felt kind of dangerous. Not dangerous like she wasn’t wet enough, or that she didn’t want him—it was that he didn’t give her any sense of control. She cowered downward, resting her shoulders on the bed.
“No,” he said with another slap to the thigh. “Hands and knees.”
With some reluctance she resumed the position—hands and knees, naked and pale, scared and vulnerable. Is okay to be scared. She was thinking too much now, about how she looked, about whether she satisfied him, about whether she measured up to all his sexy BDSM girls.
His hands squeezed on her shoulders, massaging them as he pulled out and slid in again. “Good girl,” he said. “This is the very best part. Don’t leave me now.”
She tried to obey, tried to make herself relax. His hands moved from her shoulders to her hips and then he gripped her waist. With a long, low grunt he snapped his hips against hers. He held her like she was his toy, his plaything, and she liked that feeling, shuddering on all fours with a smarting ass as he plunged deep inside. She bit her lip and squirmed, squeezing on the length of his cock.
“Oh God,” he moaned. “You little—”
He pulled away and flipped her over, entering her missionary style. She closed her eyes, confused by all the conflicting messages in her brain. She wanted to satisfy him, but God, she shouldn’t even be sleeping with him. She wanted him to hurt her, but she wanted him to caress her too. Most of all, she wanted to please him more than anyone had ever pleased him before.
“Open,” he said.
She parted her legs wider, to accommodate his thrusting hips.
“No, your eyes,” he said. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
She did, and he fixed her with his dark gaze. “Stop
thinking,” he said. “Just feel. Do I feel good inside you?”
She squeezed her inner muscles on him again. “Yes, you feel...amazing.”
He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Stop doing that with your pussy. I’ll tear you up if you don’t stop.” He slid inside her, all the way, and stopped with a shiver of his own.
“Tear me up? Literally?” she whispered. She stared into his eyes and squeezed on his cock again. She had pretty good pelvic floor muscles, being a dancer. He grunted, a wild, surrendered sound. His pelvis ground against hers, right against her aching clit. She sighed and closed her eyes.
“Open them,” he insisted.
She stared up at him, angling her hips to feel the pleasure again. His gaze was burning. Intent. “I don’t want you to tear me up,” she said meekly, feeding on some dialogue between them, some unspoken dynamic they both understood.
“Stop.”
“Because you’re so much bigger and stronger than me. You could really hurt me.” The hand on her ass pinched until she yelped. “If you hurt me I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He buried his face in her neck, licking beneath her ear. “You’re teasing me, huh?” He held her ass hard, forcing her to take the full length of his increasingly vigorous thrusts. She struggled with him, wound up tight like a spring. Every time he pressed into her, her thoughts receded a little more. His eyes caught hers and held them and that, more than anything, nudged her toward climax. He was pure male force, pure power, and he wasn’t hurting her in any way she didn’t like.
“Please,” she said. “Please, please, please...”
He groped her breasts, pinched her nipples and then grabbed her waist the same way he did when they were about to do a lift, but he wasn’t lifting her, he was pressing her down, impaling her on his cock, touching some unexplored territory deep inside her. She cried out, falling over the edge into orgasm, collapsing and expanding from within. She made fists while tears spilled from her eyes, not tears of emotion or sadness, but tears from a depth of pleasure she’d never felt before. Oh, she’d had orgasms, plenty of them. This wasn’t an orgasm. This was a whole-body death and resurrection. He pounded into her and then he came too with a jerk and a harsh groan.
For long moments they lay still together, gasping for breath. He slid his knees under her thighs and held her trapped beneath his chest, and she didn’t feel the slightest impulse to escape his weight. She felt so close to him, connected to him in a way that went beyond partnering and professional matters, even beyond a typical sexual experience. This was a universe away from what she and her previous sex partners had done. It simply wasn’t the same thing. Rubio’s chest felt perfect against her chest, and his legs felt perfect against her legs. His cock felt perfect inside her as she flexed her sore, hot cheeks. Everything was perfect, balanced and aligned. It wasn’t exaggeration, it was the truth.
Slowly, as she came to her senses, another truth devastated her.
They could never, ever do this again.
*** *** ***
Rubio thought he was crushing Petra. He was almost sure of it, but he didn’t care. He wanted to crush her. He wanted to put her in a cage in his loft and keep her there whenever he wasn’t using her. He wanted to put his cock in her mouth and shove it in balls deep. He wanted to fuck her again, tonight, tomorrow night, every night until she begged him to leave her alone. He wanted to do every perverted and sordid thing in the world to beautiful Petra.
“Meu bem,” he whispered against her ear. “What were you saying? You don’t want me?”p>
She smiled, but then she shook her head and buried her face in her hands. This reaction befuddled him. He was still drifting in the afterglow of their luscious, mind-altering sex, but she looked unhappy. Why?
Jesus Cristo, he’d hurt her. He must have hurt her too badly. He must have misread her signals.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in frantic repetition, checking over her slender frame. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you liked. I was too rough. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t that.”
“What then?” He pulled out since he was going soft, but he still held her in his arms. “What’s the matter? You are angry? Hurt? Please, tell me.”
“It’s just…” She turned away from him. “We can’t do this. It’s even worse than I thought.”
With patient, gentle pressure, he managed to uncurl her from her fetal ball. He nudged her hands away from her face. “What do you mean, worse than you thought? What are you saying? I don’t understand.”
She stared up at him, her eyes hard now, and bleak. “I thought, just one time. Just once would be okay, to satisfy my curiosity. I didn’t realize it would feel so...perfect.”
“Is bad? To feel perfect?”
“No. I mean, yes! Don’t you understand how dangerous this is to me, to my career? I don’t want to fall in love with you, and end up heartbroken and used, and get knocked up with some baby you don’t want, and spend the rest of my life crippled with regrets. Crippled and angry and bitter and resentful.”
He tried to follow the miserable tangle of her words. “But...” He shook his head. “I didn’t make a baby in you. I used a condom. Petra, look.” He held up the used, filled receptacle before it occurred to him it was pretty disgusting. “Here, let me up a minute.”
He went to the bathroom and threw it away, and washed his hands. When he returned, Petra was propped up against her pillows, huddled in her blanket. He went to sit beside her. He wanted to comfort her, but he was afraid to even touch her in her current mood. “Petra, I know your concerns. But I liked what we just did. I liked it a lot. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. I only want to dance with you. We should be dance partners, that’s all.”
“Sure, we are dance partners,” he said to soothe her. He pulled her against his side, and when she didn’t shove him away, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Listen, we can make this work. We don’t have to make a baby, like your mother and father. We can dance and then we can have sex sometimes if you like. We can even play at Liam’s party, or here, or at my place—”
“No, we can’t do that,” she cried. “That’s what I’m trying to explain to you.”
“But it was so fun. You liked it when we played. You liked it just now, when I spanked you and fucked you,” he said in sultry flirtation. “You were so wet.”
“I know. It felt really good, all of it.”
He scratched his forehead. “Is this because I called you a naughty little slut? Because that was just doing dirty talk. It’s a sadist thing, to say nasty names and threats and all that. I didn’t mean it for real.”
That made her bury her face in her hands again, and he decided he better shut his mouth before he made things worse. He ran fingers up and down her arm, resisting the urge to grope her tit. He breathed in the scent of her sugar-vanilla hair and sighed.
“Ah, Petra. This makes me very sad, your rejection. I’m sorry,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “I thought you wanted it. I’m sorry I made you angry.”
“I’m not angry.” She flung her arms around his neck. “The sex was good. Too good. It was spectacular. That’s why we can’t do it again. I don’t want to lose my head and act stupid, and go chasing after you—”
“You don’t have to chase me. I’m right here. If you like, we can do it again. And again.”
She made an irate sound and got up from the bed, taking the blanket with her and revealing the fact that his cock was stiff, ready for an encore.
He pulled the corner of a sheet over the evidence. “I would like to do it again,” he said. “But I understand you don’t want to. Okay. Because you don’t want to get hurt or...because I will do to you like Petr Grigolyuk do to your mother? But I don’t like when people say I’m like him. I’m me. Different person.”
She walked over to get his clothes with the blanket wrenched tightly around her. “It’s not
your fault, okay? It’s me. It’s my issues, my fears.”
“My cock was so happy inside you.” He stepped into his jeans, thinking about all the possibilities. “We could do it whenever you liked. Before class, after shows. During rehearsal breaks in my dressing room.”
“No.”
“I don’t care if you want to live your own life. I won’t make any demands. Only tease you and hurt you and fuck you, and maybe sometimes I’ll pee on you in the shower—”
“No!”
He frowned. “But...then...where will you get sex? From someone else?” He scowled at her as he shrugged into his sweater. “When you could be with me? This isn’t fair. There is so much more we could do together. Restraints and toys, and nasty sex, and whips, and all kinds of fun stuff. God, Petra. You would love it, to play with me. It makes no sense.”
“It makes sense to me.”
He glared at her with his arms crossed over his chest. “Right now, you are being a very, very bad girl.”
She looked apologetic but determined. “If you care about me, please don’t push this. Please, just pretend this never happened.”
Somehow that hurt him most of all. Pretend it never happened? Impossible, for him anyway. He could count on one hand the number of women who’d affected him this way since he’d come to London. One finger, really. There was so much promise between him and Petra, so many possibilities to explore. So much perversion to wallow in. But she was his partner. If she pouted and fussed at him all the time like this, they’d both go mad.
“Okay,” he said. “I don’t have a choice, do I? But I’m not happy about this, and I won’t pretend it never happened, because it did happen. I’m not good at pretending.”
“You pretend all the time. When you dance, and act on stage. That’s all pretend, isn’t it?”
He glared at her. Why was she doing this? He wasn’t Petr Grigolyuk, and she wasn’t her mother, and partners slept with each other all the time. It wasn’t exactly professional, but it was common.
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