Debauched (Undone Book 3)

by Jennifer Dawson

  Her attention jerks to me, and she sucks in a breath.

  I raise a brow. “Should I do that again too?”

  She gulps, and nods.

  “Say the words, Ruby.” Even riding high, I’m being careful to get her consent because she still doesn’t really understand what’s playing out between us. All she knows is she likes it, it makes her hungry, and she doesn’t want to stop. I’m giving her no chance to think but I still insist on her agreement.

  She licks her lips. “Please hit me again.”

  I rest between her legs and put the heel of my hand over her clit and smack her breast.

  She arches her neck. “Oh god.”

  I set a dirty rhythm, alternating between slapping her tits and grinding against her clit until she’s forgotten all about the size of my cock and if I’ll fit in favor of her pleasure.

  When I have her mindless, I hold her by the neck, and working her cunt I ask, “Are you ready to be fucked?”

  Her throat muscles work under my grasp. “Yes.”

  I let her go, tear open the condom and roll it on. All I want is to slam into her but that’s not possible. I’ll need to be slow. I spread her wide and slide my cock up and down the length of her wetness and along her clit.

  Her whole back bows off the couch. She’s so slippery I glide right over her. Her knees come up to clasp my hips, as she moans and urges me forward. On my next pass I push into her, filling her just a little bit. Shallow strokes. I grit my teeth. She’s so damn tight. I’ve been controlled for weeks and every primal urge is demanding to be unleashed, but I can’t. Not quite yet.

  When her body resists, I pull back.

  She clutches at my arms. “No.”

  “Sshhhh… Just let me do all the work.” I stroke my erection between her slick folds.

  Over and over.

  Until she’s panting under me, desperate and wanting.

  I begin again. Pushing into her. Farther now. Testing. Teasing.

  Her nails dig into my back. Gouging my skin. Marking me.

  I capture her mouth, matching the rhythm of my cock sliding in and out.

  I hit resistance.

  I pull back out.

  “Oh, god, no.” Her voice is a heady, mindless wail.

  I fucking love it. I’ve been pushing her toward this for weeks and now that she’s here, I’m addicted.

  I rub her clit with my cock.

  She begs.

  Pleads.

  Her nipples abrade my chest.

  The air is hot, humid, almost sticky.

  Sweat blooms across her chest, along my spine.

  I push in again. Farther. Deeper.

  Her body tenses around me, but instead of resistance, she’s pulling me in. Closer.

  I thrust hard and fill her.

  She’s. So. Damn. Tight.

  I still, wanting to give her body time to adjust, but she jerks under me. “Please don’t stop. I… I… Please.”

  Her muscles ripple down the length of my shaft and I lose the rest of my sanity.

  I brace myself next to her head and lean down. I pull out and plunge back in. I whisper in her ear, “Mine.”

  She keens under me.

  I thrust. “All fucking mine.”

  She moans, surges up.

  Our hips slam together, and we both suck in our breaths at the shock of it.

  “Again.” My voice is demanding now.

  I have never, in my entire life, felt like this about a girl.

  I can’t take her hard enough. Deep enough.

  I look down at her face, her open lips and panting. Her cheeks are flushed. Her lashes flutter open and her glassy eyes meet my gaze.

  Something hot and alive passes between us. Connecting us.

  Base, feral urges storm through me and I stop resisting. Stop thinking. I follow my own advice, and let it all go, hoping she follows. “You ready?”

  She nods. Gasps out, “Yes.”

  And I unleash on her, moving with purpose and intent.

  Driving into her.

  Her body tightens around me and I know she’s close.

  The couch strains under the weight of us, the pounding thrusts.

  Her neck arches. “Oh god.”

  “That’s right, you’re going to come for me.” I grip her neck. I’m fucking her so hard and it’s still not enough. “And only for me.”

  She stiffens, clenches around me, and then starts working her hips in greedy abandon as the orgasm rips through her, tearing my own orgasm from me with such sudden ferocity, a rush of panic races across my skin. Then it’s gone, and I close my eyes to ride out the most mind-numbing, powerful pleasure I’ve ever experienced.

  I thrust into her, over and over again, until I’ve wrung every last ripple and swell from her.

  I collapse like a sweating, panting beast on top of her as I come to grips with the most intense fuck of my life.

  All the while trying not to think about how this would change me.

  Ruby

  The first hints of the summer to come warm my face as a morning breeze washes over my skin. It’s early. Too early. But I woke up and found I couldn’t sleep, so I carefully pulled myself from Chad’s arms, slipped on one of his shirts, and made my way downstairs.

  I made coffee, and took two cups and the pot to the roof deck.

  Now I’m sitting in his plush armchair, watching the sun rise high over the city alone while he sleeps. I’m more peaceful than I’ve ever been.

  Every time I think of last night—which is about every five seconds—I blush. Furiously.

  By some sort of silent, mutual agreement we hadn’t discussed what happened and while on the surface we’d merely “had sex” we both knew it had changed things between us.

  At some point during the night we’d made our way to bed and he’d taken me over and over again. I’d come every time without fail. I’d had more orgasms last night than I had in the entire year before I met him. I don’t understand how or why. Maybe he’s that skilled. Or maybe he managed to tap into that secret part of me I’ve never admitted before.

  Whatever the reasons, until last night, I had no idea a man could screw like that, or come that much. I finally understood the expression fucked properly. Finally understood all the screaming I’d heard from Layla all those years ago. Finally understood what all the fuss was about. I’d been insane, absolutely crazy and completely abandoned. Nothing at all like myself.

  My god—I couldn’t even think about what I’d let him do to me. What I wanted him to do to me. I flush again.

  Surely sex like that is evil. Unnatural somehow.

  I frown, disturbed by the thought. I don’t want to ruin it by thinking. Even as my rational mind pushes the idea away as ridiculous, that other part of me that had the Bible drilled into my head for as long as I can remember, doesn’t want to let go.

  My stomach jumps as I remember the thud and sting of Chad’s hand on my skin. I have bruises this morning. They cover my breasts. My inner thighs. The imprint of his fingers are still on my hips. I looked in the mirror and told myself to be horrified. But I wasn’t.

  Somehow, I was proud. How messed up is that?

  It made no sense. I need it to make sense. Chad can explain it to me. I press my fingers to my lips and blink away the tightness in my throat, peering out at a million-dollar view of the skyline.

  What did last night make me? I’m a prude—that’s what I have always been and assumed I would always be—but last night. I don’t know, I can’t deny all these weeks with Chad has given me hope as he made me burn. I’d started to suspect that if anyone could make me come it was him, but in my head I’d pictured it more like relaxing. Like I’d loosen up a bit. I hadn’t expected to become completely undone. It was like a switch had flipped in my head and not only had I been desperate for what he’d done to me, I’d wanted so much more. Dirty, forbidden shocking thoughts I can’t even think in the light of day.

  How had he done that to me?

  C
had’s hand runs over my shoulder and tangles in my hair, I jerk, looking up at him.

  Then promptly flush what I’m sure is scarlet.

  In gray sweatpants and no shirt, he smiles, and it’s boyish and charming with no trace of the cruel wickedness from last night. “You okay?”

  I resist the urge to say, it’s still you. Surprised somehow he hadn’t changed into the devil since I’d left him. I nod. But my throat tightens and I look away.

  He frowns and crouches down, forcing my gaze to him. He runs a finger over my cheek. “Are you overwhelmed?”

  I nod. I am. Why should I start pretending with him now?

  “It’s a lot to process, I know.” His expression twists. “I got carried away and probably took you a little too far past your comfort zone.”

  A little too far? Does that mean there’s more? Because an awakened part of me demands more and that makes me afraid.

  I shake my head and my lips curve down. “I don’t want you to feel sorry.” I clear my throat. I need at least to take ownership. It feels like a step forward, no matter how tiny. There wasn’t one thing he’d done to me that I hadn’t liked, hadn’t craved. That hadn’t felt like something I’d always needed and never had before. “I liked it.”

  He curls his hand around my neck, squeezes, then stands, grabs a chair and sits down so we’re facing each other, our knees are touching. “I know you did, but it’s okay to be overwhelmed.”

  I blink at him, the questions fluttering like a tiny bird in my chest. I turn and pour him coffee, handing it back to him before taking my own. He holds the mug in one strong hand while the other rests on my knee. I stare at his hands, thinking of the things he’d done to me last night, and more heat crawls a path over my skin. I meet his gaze. “How’d you do it?”

  His mouth tilts. “Do what? Make you come?”

  I nod, and hold his eyes even while the embarrassment wages war inside me. I need to understand his power over me.

  He takes a sip of coffee before shrugging. “It wasn’t that difficult. It’s not like you couldn’t have an orgasm, you knew how, you were just too in your head to have one with another person.”

  Something niggles in the corners of my mind, hovering just out of reach. “How did you get me out of my head? No one else ever has.”

  “Well, in fairness. I’m probably the only man who’s ever been in your head, which puts me at a distinct advantage.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw; his five o’clock shadow is thick now, making him look rugged and far too good looking. “It was a combination of things.”

  “Which are?” Somehow I need to know. It feels important and significant.

  “I like you in my shirt.” Almost absentmindedly, he runs a hand over my thigh. “Chemistry, obviously. I can’t remember ever dating anyone I have this much chemistry with. Can you?”

  “No.” It’s not even close. I’ve wanted, crushed on, and been infatuated many, many times. I’ve always loved the beginning, when getting real wasn’t part of the package. That’s the fun part. The part I can handle and fake my way through. But it’s nothing like that with Chad who’s a magnetic pull I can’t resist. Calling, urging, demanding I pay attention. “What else?”

  He slips his fingers between my thighs and I shiver before the rush of heat warms me. “Since this started, I made sure you associated me with orgasms. Reminding you over and over again that your desire to come was because of me. That I was the man you were coming for. But more important the why.”

  “Why?” My heartbeat kicks hard against my ribs.

  His hands climb farther up my leg. He nods. “Wasn’t there a part of you that wanted to resist, especially when you knew I’d know or make you talk about it?”

  “Yes, all the time.” I’d come home and promise myself I wouldn’t almost as my fingers were slipping into my panties.

  “That you wanted to resist and couldn’t help yourself is the why.”

  I want to ask more, to find out how he knows this, but I suspect I already know why he’s so intuitive, and I don’t want to ask a question that will force me to confront his nature. I’m not ready for that. Am not sure I’ll ever be ready. I tilt my head. “What else?”

  For a few moments he studies me before he answers. “All this time we’ve been fooling around I’ve been paying attention. When something turned you on I did it more, when it didn’t I dropped it. Once I learned what flipped your switch I kept twisting the knife.”

  I bite my lip and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “But I don’t even know what flips my switch.”

  He grins, leans forward and kisses me softly on the mouth before pulling away. “I know. I’m teaching you.”

  “You are.” I just can’t think about what I’m learning. My lips tingle where he touched me and I want more. “What doesn’t turn me on?”

  He laughs. “Compliments. Soft kisses and restraints.”

  I blink. Startled. How closely had he been paying attention? “I like compliments.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe in theory, but they make you extremely uncomfortable, and they sure as hell don’t make you hot.”

  I swallow hard. “You’ve never restrained me.”

  “I know because it doesn’t do anything for you. I’ve held you down by your wrists a few times but you haven’t seemed to notice. Although you do like it when I grab you by the throat.” He reaches up and traces a path over my neck. “But that’s more about possession, isn’t it?”

  It is. I love that surge of belonging. Something I’ve experienced so few times in my life. “What else?”

  I’m both terrified and excited he’ll bring up what I clearly loved last night but am compelled to continue. He peers at me, gaze narrowed, thoughtful. “You like it when I talk dirty to you.”

  He leans closer.

  I hold my breath.

  With one hand he flicks open the buttons on his shirt, baring my breasts. His attention shifts over them, taking in the bruises on my skin. He trails a finger over my nipple. “You tell me, Ruby. Did you like being marked by me?”

  I gasp, the sensation a painful, jarring pleasure. “Yes.”

  He cups my breast and lifts it to his mouth. My thighs slide over his and I am wide open and exposed. He licks, laving over my too sensitive skin. He lifts his head while his finger tugs at my nipple. “Are you swollen and sore?”

  “Yes.” And it just makes it all the more delicious.

  His pressure on my breast increases and it inflames me. “But as sore as you are, all you want is to fuck, right? So you can feel that thing you can’t quite put your finger on but feels like a drug.”

  I nod. That’s exactly right.

  He grips my thighs and pulls me so I straddle him. My wet, aching center is flush against the soft cotton of his sweatpants and erection. He palms my ass. “It’s the same for me.”

  This shocks me, works me up, and empowers me. “Really?”

  I know he doesn’t say things just to say them, but it’s still hard to believe.

  “Yes.” His fingers grip my soft flesh. “Do you think I’m always like that? Just insatiably fucking over and over again?”

  I bite my lip. “Um…kind of.”

  He laughs. “Not even close. Your cunt is addictive.”

  I jerk against him involuntarily.

  He laughs again and that dark evilness is back. He squeezes, and slightly pulls the cheeks of my ass apart, allowing cool air to brush over normally private skin. “Have you ever been fucked in the ass?”

  I suck in my breath and shake my head.

  He meets my gaze as his fingers dip farther, closer to that part of me nobody has ever touched. “I’m going to fuck you there.”

  Even while my mind rejects the statement my body responds, heating and swelling, and pulling tight. I clear my throat. “I don’t think I’d like that.”

  “Oh, I disagree. I think you’re not only going to like it, that you’ll learn to crave it.” The tip of one finger brushes over puckered skin.

 
My core tightens. “Why do you think that?”

  He moves his hand so his thumb circles my clit at the same time his finger circles over skin I had no idea was sensitive. The sensations war against each other, competing. I gasp and clutch his shoulders, not sure if I want to surge forward or back.

  His eyes grow dark, his features intense. “I’ve noticed something else about you.”

  “What’s that?” My nails dig into his bare chest as his movements pick up speed.

  “I think you like things a little raw. A little taboo.” He bites my neck, his teeth scraping over my skin. “It must be the repressed Catholic girl in you.”

  “I’m not…Catholic.” My breath quickens. My breasts tingle. A low, needy groan escapes from my throat.

  He laughs, dark and sexual, while his fingers are relentless. “You know what I mean.”

  My thoughts scatter. I don’t know how he does this. I’m on fire.

  I lean forward so our chests touch, skin to skin. I start to greedily, hungrily move, circling my hips so I first increase the pressure on my clit before I increase the pressure on my backside, all while abrading my nipples against his chest.

  And, oh god, the friction, everywhere at once is so good. I don’t want it to end. I want to go on like this forever.

  He growls, low in my ear, “This, right here, is who you are. Now be a good girl and come all over my fingers while you think about me fucking this tight little ass of yours.”

  He pushes the barest tip of his finger inside me, squeezes my clit and I come in an explosion. I cry out, riding waves of near blinding ecstasy until I collapse in a panting heap on top of him.

  Oh. My. God. What is happening to me?

  He kisses my temple. “Ruby?”

  I moan against him, trying to form a coherent response.

  He laughs and drags another pulsing contraction from my drained body. “I’m meeting my parents and brothers for dinner tonight. I want you to come with me.”

  A burst of panic tries to break through, but I’m so damn boneless I can’t move. I manage to gasp out, “You…did this…on purpose.”

  He tilts my chin and kisses me. “Climb up on my cock and we can talk about it.”