Shades of Grey

by Sam Crescent

  “It’s… Christ, Travis, I can’t. I’ve never—”

  “Then now’s the time to start. Take a deep breath, close your eyes if you have to, and tell me how you feel.”

  Her intake of breath, full of judders and apprehension, brought a spike of remorse to his heart. Was he being too forceful, too soon? No, she had to learn to accept his appreciation—and he needed her boldness in the bedroom.

  “I feel… It makes me want to touch you.”

  “What else?”

  “I want to suck you. Lick you.”

  “And?”

  “And I want you to do the same to me.”

  “How? What do you want?”

  Her cunt lips spasmed. God, I want to plunge my cock inside there and ride her until she screams.

  She sighed. “I…uh, I want you to lick me. There.”

  “Where?”

  “There!”

  “Say it. Say the word.” His sac bunched then relaxed, balls heavy inside, aching with his need for release.

  If she said what he wanted, he’d know his intuition had been right—she had to be drawn out of her shell, taught to explore, to find the courage to ask for what she needed. Oh, he’d learn what she needed given time, but he preferred a woman to know and not be afraid to ask.

  “I can’t say that!” Her voice sounded as though she stood on the border between excruciating awkwardness and wanting to run away and hide.

  No way was she running. He wouldn’t allow it. Although this lesson may be torture, she’d thank him for it later.

  “Yes, you can. If you want me to do those things to you, then tell me what you want. Say the word. What do you want me to lick?”

  “My… Oh, God. My… I want you to lick my…”

  The sound of her hitching breaths filled the room. His pulse thudded in his ears. He clenched his hands, digging his nails into his palms, and willed himself to calm the hell down. He was torturing himself as well as her, prolonging the wait before that moment when he would touch her and everything would happen in a mad rush.

  “Cunt,” she whispered.

  Oh, sweet Jesus, if he glanced up now he’d be undone. His cocked ached fiercely, blood swelling it further, and his slit stretched. He felt a drop of pre-cum ooze from it and dribble down the head, wishing she’d kneel and lick it away.

  If he didn’t watch himself he’d shoot his fucking load.

  “You want me to lick your cunt?” he asked. “Lick right inside that juicy little slit of yours?”

  “Oh, God, yes.”

  And, fuck, he wanted her to want his tongue there. Now.

  “What else do you feel?” His voice came out raspy, his need soaking the words.

  Her sweet cunt called to him, the scent of her arousal almost too strong to ignore. Her sex lips quivered again, and he reached out, sluicing one fingertip through her folds. She gasped—a sharp, painful-sounding inhalation—and bunched her hands into fists.

  “Ah, you love that, right?” I love it. I goddamn love it.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “More.”

  “There. See?” He swirled his fingertip around her clit—once, twice. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Asking for more?”

  “No.”

  “So, speak to me. Tell me exactly what you want.” He applied a little more pressure, swirled again and again.

  “I can’t. It’s too…rude.”

  “Nothing’s rude around me, honey.”

  He circled again then brushed his thumb over her clit, pushing lightly until she hauled in another breath and staggered a bit. He waited for her to regain her composure, and as she did, she parted her legs some more.

  “That’s it, baby. You do know what you want.”

  “I want… Don’t look at me when I say this.”

  “I promise I’ll keep my eyes on your sexy, cream-filled cunt.”

  “Oh, God, the way you speak to me like that. It’s… I like it.”

  “Good. And?”

  She opened her legs wider, releasing a breathy ‘Ah!’ “And when you…when you touch me like that I can’t—oh!—breathe. I can’t—ah!—think.”

  “And?” He rubbed faster, her clit swelling beneath his thumb.

  “And I… When you…when you tapped my ass outside the…diner I…” She jerked her hips towards him, shoving against his thumb.

  “You what?” You liked it, didn’t you, honey. Oh, yeah, you liked it.

  “I loved it. Wanted more.”

  She was a spitfire and no mistake. He narrowed his eyes until they were almost closed and breathed deeply. A fresh waft of her cunt washed over him, so strong he’d swear he could taste it. He eased the pressure off her clit, to tease, to make her needy.

  “You want me to smack your ass again?” he asked, ghosting featherlight rotations on her clit.

  “Yes.”

  “Your bare, sexy-as-sin ass?”

  “Yes.”

  He could take no more. He stopped touching her and lowered his hand, finally able to look at her face. Her cheeks, flushed a vivid pink, deepened to crimson as she stared into his eyes. The stain of arousal coated her upper chest, patches that he would always associate with her needing him now. In his peripheral he saw her chest heaving, those gorgeous tits rising and falling as she breathed deep and long. Her mouth trembled, and he leant forward to gift her with a soft kiss, a barely felt brush of lips on lips, then drew away, lifting his hand.

  “Taste yourself,” he said, running his damp thumb tip across her lower lip.

  She opened her mouth, and he slipped his thumb inside, where she closed her lips and sucked, swirling her tongue around it. He closed his eyes, coaching himself not to groan, not to take his thumb out of her mouth and replace it with his cock. His need to dominate her this way had always been strong, to break down this woman’s barriers so she became pliant and obeyed him for once, but something told him she wasn’t the subservient kind. No, she liked to dominate too much herself, and he anticipated fireworks in the bedroom as well as out of it.

  Her talented tongue was doing things to his insides no other woman had—he risked drowning in her if he allowed her to take the upper hand. And she could, if she tried hard enough and gained more confidence. Later… God, later down the line they’d have such hot, sweaty sex, he knew it.

  “Bedroom,” he said, the word a growl.

  She released his thumb and stared at him in shock, lips slightly parted, straightening her shoulders, a spark of her usual self clearly igniting inside her. That’s what he’d wanted, her everyday stubbornness now, where she’d dash out a few orders and expect him to comply.

  “Got to you, have I?” he asked.

  “My God, yes, you’ve got to me.”

  She took his hand and guided him to the bedroom, letting him go to climb on the bed on her hands and knees.

  “You want me to tell you what I want?” she asked, glaring over her shoulder, damp hair spread across her back. “Then smack me!”

  Her sudden change turned him the hell on, pushed him to stride over to the bed and settle behind her, snug between her open legs.

  “You want smacking, honey?”

  She continued to stare, and if it wasn’t for the slight flicker of her eyelashes he’d say she’d done this before. But she hadn’t, was only indignant that he’d ordered her to the bedroom. If that’s what it would take to make her true self come out when they fucked, he’d order her about again.

  “Spread your legs further.”

  She narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips, but, by God, she did as she’d been told. She spread them as wide as they would go, and he stared at her ass cleft, at her puckered rear hole and her larger, wetter entrance beneath. He could sink his cock into either one of them and find heaven.

  He reached down and fondled her cunt, sliding two fingers inside. She clenched around him and gasped, and he looked at her, daring her to hold back on him. She didn’t—seemed she couldn’t—and pushed her ass back so his fingers went deeper.

>   “If I’ve got to you, tell me what you want,” he said, his damn voice betraying him, reedy and coarse, letting her know she had got to him.

  “Fuck me and slap me,” she said, straightening her back as though courage had filled it and given her some backbone.

  He took his fingers out and licked them, telling her in his own way that, even though she’d suddenly found her fighting spirit again, he was still in charge. She groaned, gyrated her hips, and he knew she wanted stimulation.

  He was getting to her.

  She was getting to him.

  Withdrawing his fingers, he smoothed one hand over her rounded ass cheek, casting circles to pre-warm the skin. She moaned again and braced herself on the mattress with one hand, snaking the other between her legs. He held back a smile at her boldness, congratulating himself on pushing her to the point she was at now, where, if he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, she’d give it to herself, embarrassment be damned.

  He stared into her eyes as she stared back, her glare one of defiance.

  Then he slapped her ass.

  She cried out in shock, widening her eyes and dropping her hand from her cunt.

  “You want more?” he asked.

  She blinked, as though deciding whether she could take another strike, and then a flash of desire whipped across her face.

  Yeah, he’d got to her all right.

  “Again,” she said, jerking back.

  Impatient little wench.

  He drove two fingers into her cunt at the same time as slapping her. She jolted, cried out again and returned her fingers to her slit. He plunged his fingers in and out, watching her arm move back and forth with her efforts to bring herself off.

  He wouldn’t allow her to get that far by just her fingers.

  Taking his cock in hand, he guided it to her cunt, drawing his fingers away from her. She hung her head, seeming to look down at her fretting fingers, and he positioned the tip of his dick ready to slide in.

  “Do it,” she said. “I’m… I’m already nearly there.”

  He pushed inside her slowly, her sheath unused to him, straining against his intrusion.

  “Relax, honey,” he said.

  Her channel loosened and he thrust in to the hilt, her tightness bliss on his aching, throbbing cock. He gained a steady rhythm, her fingertips bumping his length every time he withdrew, making him speed up as an orgasm built inside him. He worked faster, matching her hand movements, and slapped her buttock again, his palm stinging from the harsher strike.

  “More,” she said. “Again!”

  She panted, shoving back on him each time he pushed inside, and, Christ, his balls tightened so much they were painful. He struck her once more, the sound of it reverberating around the room. Her cry of triumph quickly followed by her cunt clamping tighter told him she was going to come. It brought his own orgasm crashing down on him, sweeping him away with a dick-wrenching, slit-widening expulsion of cum that flooded her channel. She screamed out her pleasure, jamming backwards and forwards to match his thrusts, and, fuck, he knew for sure then that he’d found his soul mate, the woman who was his ultimate equal in every way.

  Another forceful jet of cum left him lightheaded, and he closed his eyes, neck cords straining, his ass jerking with a rhythm he couldn’t control. He allowed pleasure to race through him and listened to Sarah’s cries as they faded to deep moans then on to soft whimpers. He slowed, his cock tender, and stopped rocking. Out of breath, he roved his hands up and down her back, gliding over her hips then massaging her ass. She tensed, and he guessed her buttock was a little sore.

  “God, that was good,” she said, panting, lifting her head to stare at him over her shoulder again. “And don’t think I didn’t know exactly what you were up to.”

  He pulled out of her and lay by her side, holding out one arm so she snuggled next to him. “And what was I up to?”

  “Goading me out of feeling vulnerable.” She dragged a fingertip over his erect nipple.

  “Vulnerable? You? Never.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head, her damp hair sticking to his lips.

  “Exactly. I mean, I never get vulnerable.”

  “Or embarrassed.”

  “No.”

  “Even when you’ve said something’s embarrassing, you don’t really mean it.” He fought hard to keep from laughing.

  She swatted his chest playfully. “No. And, just like you said, I’m stubborn and will always see things in black and white.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you want to think about that last one again.”

  She lay silently for a while, teasing his nipple, placing soft kisses to his chest every so often. Then, “Okay, yes. I’ll admit it. I see some shades of grey, all right?”

  “Only some?”

  “Yes, only some, so don’t push it, mister.”

  Epilogue

  From the fence he’d crawled under as a wolf the night Clark had shot him, Travis stared out over the ranch. A bright spring sun bore down on him, warming his face and bare arms, giving his surroundings a comforting hazy glow. Everything looked tidier now, the grounds well maintained, the bordering fences fixed and repainted, the bushes pruned, their previously unruly leaves and branches shorn away. The house looked damn good, too, the inside renovated in the space of two months, the outside boasting a fresh coat of white paint. It could almost be a different building, what with the new tiles on the roof and a sturdy front door that had proved its worth over the winter just gone.

  They’d worked hard and long to get this place to the standard it should be, replacing all the old furniture with new, Sarah finally clearing out her daddy’s bedroom and converting it into an office. She’d learned to let go this past year or so, to see shades of colour, let alone grey, as she battled to accept that things couldn’t be done as fast as she wanted or exactly how she’d envisaged.

  She’d come a long way.

  Come a long way in the bedroom, too.

  Travis’ cock stiffened as he thought of how she’d changed since that night when he’d first spanked her. God, he’d thought her a spitfire then, but she’d shown him she had more mettle than he’d imagined. She’d become the dominant one, ordering him around, telling him where she wanted his cock, his hands, his tongue.

  And, Christ, he loved it.

  Loved her.

  He glanced down at his wedding ring, glinting from a slant of sunlight. Their trip to Vegas had been a blast, the wedding ceremony one hell of a touching affair that had brought a lump to his throat and the sting of tears. She’d made his life complete, and, apart from their usual ribald banter and small arguments, they got along just fine.

  Life had settled into a nice pattern the last fortnight, all the building work complete and things going back to them just running the ranch. He still had a lot to tell her about himself, about the pack he’d left behind years ago after his parents had died and how he’d remained alone until meeting her, but they had years ahead of them for that. His wolf didn’t faze her at all, and when he sloped off some nights to shift and run until his lungs hurt, she didn’t question, didn’t probe. It seemed she’d taken him, wolf and all.

  He sighed with contentment and shoved off the fence, striding over the grass towards the empty paddock. The men had gone home an hour ago, tired out from a week of heavy work, looking forward to a restful night out at Macy Jo’s. He winced at the thought of that sweet woman and shrugged off the heavy feeling he always got when he recalled that time. He couldn’t change anything that had gone before but could sure as shit change the future, making it so his woman never went through anything so horrific again.

  Reaching the house, he stood outside and gazed at it, double-checking that everything really had been addressed. Confident it had, he walked around the side and entered through the kitchen door, replaced from the one he’d fixed before with a mahogany barn door so that Sarah could keep the top part open when she worked about the room while still retaining her privacy with the bottom half shut.

>   She stood at the sink, hands submerged in dirty water. She turned as he strode towards her, smile transforming her already beautiful face into something even more stunning.

  He loved her so much it hurt.

  “Hey,” he said, that one word incredibly hard to speak through the lump in his throat.

  “Hey yourself,” she said, taking her hands from the water along with a potato and peeler. She placed them on the drainer and dried her hands on a towel. “You satisfied?”

  He nodded. “Everything’s been done.”

  “Just like I said.” She smiled then glared at him from lowered lashes, her stern look designed to make him see he’d worried for nothing.

  “But I’m not satisfied.” He rubbed his chin and stared at the floor, narrowing his eyes in thought.

  “Oh, hell. What’s wrong now? I thought I was the picky one? What have they done that isn’t up to your standards?”

  He looked up, walked over and stood before her, settling his hands on her waist. “They’ve done fine. I just said I wasn’t satisfied.” He raised his hands and cupped her breasts.

  “Oh. That kind of satisfied.”

  “Yeah. That kind.”

  She went on tiptoe and kissed him, sliding her hands through his hair to cradle his head. His cock hardened and he kissed her back, pushing his erection against her lower belly.

  She eased away. “Hey, watch it down there. Damn thing’s so hard you could do some damage.”

  “I want you to do some damage,” he said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Bedroom.”

  Coming Soon from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Forced Assassin

  Natalie Dae and Sam Crescent

  Released 23rd July 2012

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Bishop. He rolled the word around in his mind, testing whether it fit. He quite liked it as names went. It wasn’t a bad one, better than some of the others he’d had, but it wouldn’t be his for long enough to matter anyway.

  They never were.

  He stared across the hotel dining room, with white cloths draped over round tables big enough to seat six, to the woman sitting in the far right-hand corner. She hadn’t clocked him watching her since yesterday—or at least he didn’t think she had—and ate her Beef Wellington in delicate morsels, gaze fixed into the far distance as though she had a lot on her mind. And she would have, if other marks were anything to go by.