by BETH KERY
“You have uncommonly beautiful breasts. Firm. Soft. Fat pink nipples that turn so hard with the slightest stimulation. Touch them now,” he commanded gruffly. Alice ran her fingertips over the crests, loving the way his eyes narrowed and glittered greedily. With his elbow on the arm of the chair, he pressed his fingertips against his whiskered jaw and mouth in a manner that distracted Alice thoroughly. All the things he’d said about her breasts struck her as true for the first time. The skin felt satiny smooth beneath her hands, the mounds firm and soft. Her nipples stiffened beneath her circling fingertips and Dylan’s hot, focused stare. Experiencing her power over him thrilled her. She pinched lightly at the beading crests. Recalling something he’d done in the den this afternoon that he seemed to enjoy, she lifted the mounds and released, bouncing them softly.
He groaned roughly through a snarl. “Again,” he said. She gladly complied. His little game was turning her on. She bounced her breasts. He took a sip of his champagne and watched while she pinched at her nipples. His hand moved to his crotch. Alice moaned shakily, watching him while he stroked his cock through his clothing as intently as he watched her.
“I’m showing you mine. Show me yours.”
A smile curved his mouth. “Would you like that?” he asked, still rubbing his hand up and down along the shaft of his cock slowly. He was killing her. She could see the outline of him clearly though his pants, his stroking fingers molding the fabric against his erection. Her mouth watered.
“Yes, please.”
“How can I refuse a polite request from Alice Reed when the occurrence is so seldom,” he said, smiling at her frown. He fleetly unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. He kicked off his shoes and drew off his socks before standing to remove his pants and boxer briefs completely. Alice watched in mounting excitement. He sat back down in his chair and lifted his shirt. She gasped softly at the vision of his erect cock lying against his taut belly, the candlelight casting it in a rosy gold hue.
He cupped his round, shaved testicles and slid his hand along the shaft. She shivered in excitement.
“I wouldn’t have agreed to do it if I thought you’d stop,” he said with a dark glance.
Alice blinked. She’d been so mesmerized by the sight of him, her hands had fallen to her sides.
“Hands back on your breasts,” he instructed. “Hold them up for me. That’s right,” he muttered as she did what he said. He stroked his cock more firmly. “Keep holding them up and play with the nipples.”
Alice did everything he asked of her, becoming increasingly aroused by her own touch . . . by the powerful vision of him stroking his cock. In one hand, he held his champagne, which he sipped occasionally as he watched her. His other hand fisted and pumped his erect cock. Alice felt very much on display, like she was putting on a show for his pleasure. Maybe it should have offended her, but it didn’t. Instead, it aroused her intensely.
“Are you getting wet?” he asked her bluntly a minute later. He set down his glass of champagne and twisted in his chair, picking up the champagne bottle. He poured himself another glass and glanced at her, expecting an answer.
“Yes,” she told him a little defiantly. How could she not be wet, standing there watching such a beautiful man masturbating right in front of her. His manner was that of a prince or a sheikh, a man used to having his every command followed. He wasn’t playing a part, though. Dylan was a sexual dominant by nature, and undoubtedly was used to getting what he wanted in this arena. It certainly was true in Alice’s case. It aroused her to do what he demanded . . . but of course, she couldn’t appear to be giving in too easily.
“Slip out of your gown,” he said, leaning back in his chair and lifting his champagne to his lips. “Prove to me you’re aroused.”
“Prove to you,” she muttered under her breath a little sourly. She rolled her eyes. Nevertheless, she lowered the fabric of the gown over her belly and shimmied her hips to encourage it to fall down her thighs and legs. He grunted and began to stroke himself again at the tight shaking of her hips.
“Dip your fingers between the lips,” he ordered thickly. Alice complied, a moan escaping her throat. She rubbed her clit through thick cream. “I can see how wet you are,” he said, his stare glued between her thighs. She circled her fingers and whimpered. His focused attention and jacking hand were making her desperate.
Wanton.
She lifted her hand and let him see her moisture glistening on her skin. Slowly, she lifted her hand to her mouth and slid her moist fingers between her lips. His pumping hand paused mid-staff. He watched her narrowly as she sucked her juices off her first two fingers.
“Don’t try to control the pace, Alice,” he warned softly, his eyes glittering dangerously.
A smile tugged at her pursed lips.
“I think you need something to cool you off,” he said grimly. He let go of his cock and it thumped tautly against his abdomen. “Get your fingers out of your mouth, you little witch, and come here.”
She stepped between his knees, holding her breath as he cradled her hips and then whisked his hands up and down the sensitive sides of her body. He cupped her breasts and squeezed them gently.
“Just what I thought. You’re very warm.” Still cradling a breast with one hand, he picked up his champagne glass.
“Dylan,” she whispered warningly, her eyes going wide as she watched him slowly tip the glass above the breast he held. The liquid reached the lip of the flute and dribbled onto her breast, sliding down the upper curve and dripping off the nipple. She gasped.
“Cold?” he asked, rubbing the champagne into her nipple with his fingertips.
“You know it is,” she said, sounding breathless.
“Yes. I can see that it is,” he said distractedly, studying the proof of her beading nipple. He tilted the glass again. Her sex tightened in anticipation as she watched the golden liquid slip over the rim and splash onto her breast. Again, he ran his fingers over the mounds and nipple, distributing the champagne.
“No, you’re still flushed with heat,” he said, shaking his head.
“Is that a crime?” she asked dazedly, highly distracted by watching his fingers rub her moist skin and nipple.
“No. It’s just an experiment.” She blinked at his seemingly innocent tone.
“An experiment in torture,” she muttered, watching him pinch lightly at her nipple. Her clit gave a twinge of sympathetic arousal at the caress.
He smiled, clearly not planning on defending himself. Instead, he reached for the ice bucket and placed it on the table next to him.
“No,” she whispered when he dipped his hand into the silver bucket that was beaded with moisture.
“I like my champagne very cold,” he said. He held her stare and placed a small cube of ice against her nipple. Alice knew what was coming, but she couldn’t prevent herself from jumping slightly. Her mouth trembled as he rubbed the hard, cold cube against her, manipulating her flesh. She shivered in a mixture of discomfort and sharp pleasure. “Look how stiff it’s getting,” he said, eyeing her nipple. He reached with his free hand and grabbed some more ice. Alice whimpered in anxious anticipation as he lifted both hands. He began to rub the ice on both her nipples at once.
“Stop,” she whispered without any heat. Her entire body was drawn tight with tension. Her nipples ached with cold and sharp arousal. She’d never seen them so tight and erect.
“Just a moment more,” Dylan replied, his thick, distracted tone telling her loud and clear how aroused he was by his task. The cubes melted beneath his rubbing fingers until they were nothing more than cool rivulets of water running down her breasts and ribs.
“Please,” she whispered, even though she wasn’t precisely sure for what she begged.
His gaze flickered up to her face. He lowered his moist fingers and reached for the bottle of champagne.
“You’re right. I’m very thirsty.”
Alice whimpered as he lifted the bottle.
“Stay stil
l,” he directed, perhaps sensing the tension coiling in her body.
She couldn’t still her jump as he poured the icy liquid over both her breasts. He set aside the bottle as Alice stood there, trembling with desire, champagne dripping off her nipples and streaming down her ribs. He regarded her sheened breasts grimly, a snarl slanting his mouth. Then he was pulling her to him, his hot mouth enfolding a tight, aching nipple, his tongue laving off the moisture. Her shaky moan of disbelief and arousal twined with his rough groan of satisfaction.
He cupped her other breast, rubbing the damp nipple, while he sucked her tautly. It was unbearable. Her nipple popped free from his pursing lips, and he ran his tongue over the globes of first one breast, then the other, gathering the drops of champagne. Then he tongued her ribs and belly. Alice quaked, her thighs tightening to stifle the stabbing arousal at her sex. She moaned in rising misery. He must have heard her.
He lowered a hand between her thighs and rubbed her creamy clit firmly. Her mouth sagged open at the sharp pleasure. He returned to her breasts, sipping and licking. When he drew a tight crest into his warm mouth and sucked firmly, Alice cried out and began to come against his hand. He never paused in his actions as she shuddered in climax. The only indication that he knew she was coming was the low, rough growl that vibrated in his throat. He continued to stroke and quench his thirst on her, working every last tremor out of her.
Or so Alice had thought. Until he cradled her hips in his hands and lowered his head, sliding his tongue in the cleft of her labia. She cried out as tension leapt back into her muscles, and his firm tongue demanded another shudder of pleasure from her.
Suddenly, he was standing and pulling her tightly against him, his hands running over her hips, back, and ass, kissing her harshly with lips and tongue that tasted of champagne and her—Alice. Her body felt flushed and tingling, satiated but still ringing with desire. His strength and hardness stilled her dizziness. She craned for him, pressing her belly against his thick cock, straining against him, and squeezing the tight, hard muscles of his ass in her hands.
He tore his mouth from hers roughly a moment later, his ragged breath hitting her face. He pressed his fingertips to her upturned lips and slid them into her mouth. Alice closed around him, sucking him deeper. For several seconds, he watched with a feral focus as he finger-fucked her mouth. He slipped them from between her lips and leaned down to kiss her swollen lips.
“On your knees,” he whispered against her mouth. Her heart jumped at his words and the fierce gleam in his eyes.
He grasped her hands, kicking his discarded trousers between them. He guided her down until her knees rested against the cushion of the fabric. Immediately, he cupped his heavy erection from below and guided the flushed cockhead between her lips. She looked up at him as he pulsed his hips. He grasped her head.
“That’s right. Look at me while I fuck your hot little mouth,” he rasped, his face tight with lust. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?”
She suspected he saw her total surrender in that moment. Alice allowed him to see it. It gave her strength, somehow, to abandon herself to his pleasure.
She raised her hand and fisted him, stroking him as she sucked him deeper. He was hard and flagrant, filling her mouth, stretching her aching lips. With one hand on his hip, she urged him to thrust faster even as she ducked her head at the same pace. He was demanding of her, but she was just as demanding of him. He held her head in place and thrust deep. She overrode her body’s response to reject him, her hunger trumping instinct. His face tightened and he shuddered in pleasure.
“That’s right,” he grated out. “You’re so sweet; you’re going to let me use you for a moment, aren’t you. Ah God, that’s good.” He thrust faster, but Alice kept pace with him, loving his low, rough grunts of pleasure. She felt his excitement mounting as if it were her own.
She felt him spasm against her tongue.
He withdrew partially as he began to climax, thrusting shallowly and ejaculating on her tongue. He groaned harshly, gripping her hair between his fingers. Her eyes sprang wide as all his coiled, incendiary power was unleashed. She struggled to keep up with him, sucking and swallowing, feeling his cock twitch and throb as he thrust, while more and more of his semen spread on her tongue.
Finally, his ejaculations waned. His still rigid, streaming cock popped out from between her pursed lips. She craved more of his taste once he was gone, pushing the tip of her tongue into his slit. She looked up at him, laving the swollen, glistening cockhead. He stared down at her, still grasping her head, his nostrils flaring slightly, his dark gypsy eyes smoldering as she lapped up every trace of him she could find.
She kissed the tip of his cock, pausing to glide her mouth against the wet skin. A grim smile pulled at his lips.
“You never give half-measure,” he said, his eyelids narrowed as he studied her. “I love you for that, among other things.”
“For giving good head?”
His mouth twitched. “For giving yourself so completely. Come here,” he said, suddenly sounding stern. He bent to put his hands on her shoulders, urging her to stand.
“What, am I in trouble?” she joked, a little confused by his intensity.
“No. You’ve been very good. Exceptionally so,” he said, turning to shift his covered plate and the ice bucket over to the side table. He swiftly did the same with the silver and glassware. Then he was reaching for her and lifting her onto the table.
“What are you doing?” she asked him in amazement when he pulled up his chair and sat again.
“Spread your thighs,” he demanded shortly. She opened her legs and he scooted his chair between her parted knees. She yelped when he put his hands on her hips and jerked her closer, her pussy zipping to the edge of the table.
“I drank,” he said, lowering his head between her thighs. He used his thumbs to spread her labia. She saw his small, grim smile. “You ate. Now it’s time for my meal.”
THEY finally actually did eat the meals Marie had prepared them. Alice remained sitting on the table in front of him, naked and flushed from multiple climaxes. She held the plate in her lap and fed him succulent bites of food from her fork, serving herself every other bite and laughing when she occasionally spilled grains of rice onto her stomach or his thighs. They talked about trivial things, and she teased him mercilessly.
“It’s a lot easier than I thought it’d be,” she said spontaneously a while later when they moved on to the delicious birthday cake.
“What?” Dylan asked, taking a bite from the fork she extended.
“Loving you.”
He paused in chewing, his eyes flashing as he looked up at her. Still holding her stare, he took the plate from her lap and set it aside.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“What?” she asked, breathless, because she recognized that gleam in his eyes. He stood and lifted her off the table.
“Be such a smart-ass one second, and so sweet the next.”
She smiled. He’d told her that before.
“I don’t want to be predictable.”
His dark eyes glistened from amusement and candlelight. “Heaven forbid.”
At his urging, they covered the cake and blew out the candles, but left everything else behind. He led her to his bedroom, where he told her to lie down on the bed. She stared up at him, enraptured, a moment later as he came over and entered her.
“Was it a happy birthday?” he asked, his muscles bulging as he held himself off her and his cock throbbed deep inside her.
“The happiest day I’ve ever had.”
“Alice,” he rasped.
He began to move. The truth of what she’d said filled and overwhelmed her.
It frightened her a little, too.
FIFTEEN
The next morning, Dylan awoke alone. He rose and donned some pants, concerned but not as alarmed as he’d been in the past to realize Alice was in the house alone, a potential victim to memories tha
t didn’t feel like her own.
This morning, he had a feeling he knew where he’d find her. When he reached the top steps that led to the back veranda, he heard the telltale squeak of the porch swing. Relieved, he opened the door.
She rocked on the big old swing, one bare foot on the floor propelling her, the other bent and resting on the swing. On top of her thigh rested a plate of cake. She smiled around the fork she’d just inserted into her mouth when she saw him approaching.
“I woke up thinking about this cake,” she said, chewing.
He sat down next to her, his hands at the edge of the swing, and regarded her closely. Alice with the fire of defiance in her eyes was always a fierce trial on his patience and senses. But Alice’s eyes sparkling with happiness as she relished a long overdue birthday cake left him lung-locked and mute for a moment.
Her brow crinkled. “Do you want some?” she asked, waving in the direction of the cake. She’d misunderstood his intent expression as he’d witnessed her glowing happiness. She started to get up, as if to get him some cake.
He caught her hand, halting her and shaking his head. Instead, he kissed her softly, the sweetness lingering on her lips more than satisfying him. After a moment, he lifted his head and leaned back in the swing, his arm around her.
“Go ahead,” he instructed gruffly. “Eat your cake.”
He noticed her satisfied smile as she snuggled up next to him and resumed eating. He tightened his arm around her and stared out over the railing. It would be a clear day. The sun had risen, but just recently. It cast the eastern woods in a pale gold light. Alice lingered over her last bite, carefully scraping up all the icing off the plate. He glanced at her amusedly as she sucked every last remnant off her fork.
He held out his hand with a droll expression. Laughter filled her eyes as she handed her plate to him. He returned a moment later, a hefty fresh slice of cake on it.
“It’s really good,” she insisted by way of explanation for her early morning hunger for birthday cake.
“The breakfast of champions.”
