by Liz Crowe
“Well, thanks for an interesting night.” She put out a hand to shake his. This is crazy. I need to go home, see my niece, take some control of my life. He took her hand, brought it to his lips, then suddenly tugged her close to put a possessive arm around her waist. Her body immediately responded. Trying to keep standing as her knees gave out, she kept her face averted. His lips brushed her ear, already familiar, his lilting voice filling her head. “You are not a slut, that’s not what I meant. You should treat yourself better. Take some pride in more than your appearance. You are strong and special. Don’t forget it.” She closed her eyes at the touch of his lips to her cheek then he released her. “Farewell, my beautiful Turk. My dead grandmother thanks you for blowing me off.” Lale wanted nothing more than to run her tongue over his crooked, ironic smile. Her body jangled with need for his touch again.
“My very much alive, very Turkish brother and father feel the same way, Greek.” She took one step back, then turned and stalked over to the bank of elevators.
Chapter Seven
Andreas threw another punch at the bag. It jarred his entire arm in a pleasant fashion he’d pay for in coming days. His shoulder couldn’t take the pounding he used to give it. But pure insanity hovered on his horizon and he had to do something, anything, to get Lale out of his head. It had taken one hundred percent of his willpower not to drag her outside, throw her on his bike, and drive home with her. Jesus. He hit the bag again, and again. Sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes, stinging just enough to distract him. Damn the woman. How in the hell did he manage to get tangled with such wholly inappropriate ones anyway? Shelley had been a real catch at one time, but as her personality emerged the longer they were together, he’d realized the whole thing had been a mistake. But the sex and the play stayed mind-blowing, making him forget what an utter, grasping bitch she was outside of the bedroom or dungeon. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Why would this Turk be any different?
Wham. His shoulder throbbed but he didn’t care. It made him feel alive. As he started to land one more punch, the distinct sound of a footfall on the front porch made him stop. He ran down the hallway of his sprawling house and looked out the large front windows. A shadow loomed over the steps. A Lale-shaped shadow. He groaned. He had to face this thing, but he couldn’t be sure how he would handle it. His body let him know how it wanted to proceed, already hardening at the thought of her, bent over his knee for the paddling she deserved for snooping around.
He yanked the door open, unprepared for the sight of her, still in the sexy skirt and heels, standing with her hands on her hips in his doorway. She glared at him, as if he were the Peeping Tom. Scowling, hoping she couldn’t hear his pounding heart, he grabbed her slender wrist and pulled her not-so-gently inside. He held onto her, fire snapping between them at the touch, and slammed the door shut with his foot.
“Get your hand off me,” the sultry woman demanded. He grinned and tightened his grip.
“No. I think you want me to do this, don’t you, Turk?” His voice sounded hoarse even to him. The distinct sensation of impending orgasm was not a pleasant one. The feel of her squirming, trying to pull away, while her eyes told him something else didn’t help. He had to have her, now. Sweat rolled down his face. He tugged her close, enveloped her with his body.
“I’m gonna show you what you came here to see. Don’t worry.” His lips touched her ear before he grabbed her hair and forced her to tilt her head back. She didn’t fight him. Her heart fluttered in her chest against his. She presented a tough shell—one he had to crack. Enough years in the service of submissives had taught him how to spot one, sense one and sort out their needs immediately. But he had to make her understand this didn’t involve her getting hurt. Quite the opposite. Her need for control fought with her desire to be controlled. Classic, he thought, as he smiled into her beautiful, angry face.
They stood, bodies touching, the only sounds that of their rapid breathing. His arms were wrapped around her as she stood, stiff and tense. When he touched the tip of his tongue to her neck, she shuddered. He brought his lips to her intoxicating flesh, ran one hand down her arm and cupped her sweet ass, pressing his desire against her. The extreme urge to shove her up against the wall and take her right then was a serious one. The need to go fast and hard, show her she belonged to him was foreign and he fought it, realizing it meant a lot more than just something physical. He kept his touch light, his lips merely teasing, licking and tasting his way down her long neck, to the dip between her collarbones.
When her body finally relaxed into his, he smiled into her delicious, vanilla-scented flesh. She went up on her tiptoes and curled her bare arms around his neck, lifted her face to his, eyes closed. She wore a mask of lust. Pheromones encircled him, and he had to grit his teeth against their compulsion—take, own, show, dominate. Taking her chin between thumb and forefinger, he laughed low in his throat. Her eyes flew open. Anger quickly replaced passion. Precisely as he had expected.
She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he held her still. “Let go of me. What are you laughing at? Damn it, I mean it, Greek, I—mmmfff!”
He cut her babbling short with his mouth. It took a few seconds of resistance before she had her arms around him again, had her luscious body curved into his. Andreas moaned and gripped her hair once more, using his lips and tongue to posses her, prove he wouldn’t be toyed with. She tasted amazing, and he spent some time exploring her reactions to his kiss. A few moments of blissful lip to lip, and he forced himself to stop, caressed her face, and spoke.
“Let’s go.” He left her standing in the middle of the front room. If she really wanted to see what he meant earlier, she’d follow him down the hall. What he’d do when she did so remained still a mystery, even to him. Ignoring the pulsing need to sling her over his shoulder, he pushed the door to his dungeon open, turned around, and crooked his finger at the beautiful woman still standing in the room where he’d left her.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside, confident she’d follow him. If she didn’t, he would pick her up and carry her in there. The sound of her heels tapping across his hardwood floors then stopping at the door made him turn, arms over his bare chest. Dried sweat and something resembling nervousness made his nipples harden. And if it were possible, his cock got even harder at the sight of her, standing in the door of the room where he planned to change her world forever. He narrowed his eyes.
“Come in.” He swept a hand around the lavish playroom. Her gaze moved over the various set ups—the bed, the cross, the table with handcuffs, a large wooden box that held any number of toys, restraints and paddling equipment. He snagged a lighter from a bedside drawer and lit candles, throwing the room into flickering relief, then simply stood, watching her take it all in. She worried the ring in her lip and rubbed one arm.
“Okay, I’ve seen it. Kinky. But classy. Nice work, Greek. I’ll go now.” But she didn’t move. He blew out a puff of air and tried to get himself under control. If he weren’t careful, he’d scare her. This had to go slowly, or it wouldn’t work. It still might not. He hadn’t encountered anyone so headstrong in a long while. He shifted his weight, spread his legs, and let her see the erection tenting his shorts. Her eyes locked on it and the tip of her tongue darted out. It nearly made him drop to his knees. He frowned, unhappy with his internal response to her.
“Is this why you came here tonight, Lale?’ He put a hand on himself and rubbed through the fabric. “Because I can accommodate you. The thing you have to remember is—” He reached in and drew his cock out. “I get to say how.”
She nodded, but before he could say another word, she crossed the room and had her soft hand on his cock, lips on his. He moaned, and grasped her neck. Sweeping his tongue into her sweet mouth, he reveled in the hard metal feel yet tender sensations inside. Her hand encircled his head, her thumb running across the fluid already pearled there and his hips bucked. Her other hand cupped his balls, traveled further down, stroking beneath them. She rele
ased him and broke away from his lips in one movement and went down on her knees. Shit, this is not how I…oh, dear Lord…. He grasped her hair as she swallowed him all the way down. The tip of his cock bumped the back of her throat once before she took him all. “Ah, Lale, Lale,” He closed his eyes and fucked her mouth, lost in the moment. He could smell her—smell her sex and need. It swirled around him, making him grunt with frustration. This is my room, my house, my…oh, hell…. The base of his spine tingled and his brain engaged, locking in on a monster orgasm—a sweet release both physical and mental, that he hadn’t truly experienced in years, in the hands of this incredible woman. But behind that, anger, and fear—fear that he’d fall once again for someone who would use him and anger at himself for losing his tightly wound control.
With a massive effort, he pulled his cock out of her lovely mouth and yanked her to her feet. Her swollen lips and lusty eyes were too much to bear. He clenched his eyes shut, then opened them and growled. “No. This is my room. I call the shots.”
Her gaze took on a defiant edge. Good. This I can deal with. Keeping one hand around her arm, he tugged his shorts back up, hissing at the deep ache in his balls. Get a grip on yourself, man. Otherwise, you’re going to let her dominate you? Not likely.
“What? You didn’t like that?” Her jaw stayed clenched.
“Oh, I liked it all right. But I’ll tell you when I want it. For now.” He walked her over to the custom table that doubled as his spanking bench. The dark walnut frame gleamed, and the removable mattress and restraints at each corner and in the middle made her frown and worry that lip piercing again. He tried to stay calm and focused. “Take off your shirt and bra. Leave your skirt and shoes on. And bend over this table, holding your arms out.” She stared at the table then at him with disbelief.
“No fucking way.” She muttered at the floor. “I told you didn’t….”
“Bend over it now, Princess.” He used his most commanding voice. “I promise you it will be worth it.” It worked. He licked his lips as she huffed and puffed, but proceeded to strip out of her shirt and bra. His breath caught at the utter magnificence of her full breasts. They were tipped with dark chocolate-colored, rock hard nipples. She leaned over the table that accommodated a six-foot-six-inch Master and his cock, and held her hands out.
“Now what?” Her tone remained a little too sassy for his taste. He strolled slowly over to the other side of the table and wrapped a thin leather tie around her wrists. She glared at him. He patted her head, ran a finger down her face, then made his way back to her backside. Putting a hand on the smooth skin of her ass, semi-exposed thanks to her short skirt, he sighed. Oh God, this was going to be rough. Mainly on him. He ran his hand down one long, smooth thigh, then back up. Using both hands, he caressed her hips, gripped her waist, and ground his painfully erect rod against her nearly bare bottom.
She wiggled and arched her back. When he brought his palm down hard against the skin of her left ass cheek, she screeched in protest and tried to sit up. He stayed pressed against her, kept one hand on her upper back, immobilizing her enough to gauge her true reaction. When she didn’t cry out or struggle, he did it again. The smack of skin on skin made him shiver in anticipation. She only whimpered that time, so he moved his other hand to her hair, twining his fingers in it and holding on tight. He spanked her again, and again, just hard enough to make noise, not enough to make it truly hurt. That wasn’t the goal tonight. Each time, she grew quieter until he finally stopped. Their combined ragged breathing echoed in the room. Her incredible heart-shaped ass glowed red, finger marked and sexy as hell.
He gulped, knelt behind her, and pressed his lips to the angry skin. She moaned and sniffled. “That hurt,” she mumbled. He looked up to assess her reaction and smiled at the sight of her with her head turned, eyes closed, but with a calm face. He reached under the sorry excuse for a skirt and hooked a finger in her thong.
“Don’t ever wear these again,” he growled. With a quick flick of his wrist, the flimsy fabric ripped and fell down around her ankles. He stepped back, took in the amazing sight. “Spread your legs more, I want to taste.” He could barely hear his own whisper. She shifted and did as he said. When he knelt and dipped his tongue into her already dripping pussy, tasted her essence, lapped at her delicate pink lips, just like the petals of her namesake flower, he realized he had found the one. He heard her groan when he took the tiny ball that pierced her clit between his teeth and tugged slightly. God help him, he had to have her, all of her. He’d put in the effort. It would be worth it. And so far, she seemed amenable to the new experiences.
“Fuck me,” she mumbled, arching her hips up more. He stopped what he was doing, with reluctance and stood, watching her juices drip down one smooth thigh. His body heated up at the sight. He put a hand on his cock, which twitched and jerked in anticipation. “Please, Andreas. Please make me come. I can’t…I haven’t…oh, God!” She cried out when he plunged two fingers deep inside her walls, reaching up just under her pubic bone. His fingers were caught tight as her velvety pussy clamped down on him. He moaned and nipped at her ass, letting her lust permeate his every pore.
“Jesus….” The delicious girl squirmed as he drew his fingers out, shoved them in again, and again, barely stroking her G-spot then retreating. He lapped at the sweat pooling in the small of her back, kept his lips on her skin, unwilling to break contact with her. He realized his hips were thrusting involuntarily and clamped down on the need to blow in his shorts.
Keeping his fingers moving, he leaned over her back. “I want you to come, Lale, all over my fingers.” He bit her earlobe. The smell of her surrounded him and he loved it; it made him dizzy and nearly incapacitated. But he swallowed hard and stayed focused.
“No,” her muffled voice demanded. “I want you inside me. I can’t come like this, I…oh….” He shifted his angle so his thumb pressed against her asshole as he stroked her G-spot again with two fingers. Not for the first time, he acknowledged having large hands helped as a football player, but mostly as a useful tool when making women climax. Her pussy flexed, spasmed, got wetter and he grinned into her shoulder, biting down, unable to resist.
“There you go, my Tulip. I feel it, no? Just let it go, let me have it.”
“Please, please just fuck me. Use your cock. I want it so bad.” Her lovely ass tilted up once again as she pleaded with him. He hissed when she used her muscles to clench him once more, imagining it clasped around his shaft.
He removed his dripping fingers, put them in his mouth before using that hand to spank her once more. “Stop begging.” He growled when she squealed. “I’ll give you what you want. But you don’t ask for it. I give it to you willingly.” He grabbed a condom from the table’s small drawer, his eyes widening as she spread her legs further. Ah, God, those shoes. He might have to fuck her in them every time, simply to relive this moment.
Something gnawed at his brain, told him to hold back, to stop. To make her come how he wanted her to come first and not give in to his body’s need to be enveloped by hers. Danger signs flashed in the logical part of his mind, but were drowned out by his neglected libido. “You want it hard, Lale? ‘Cause that is how you’re gonna get it.” He grunted and shoved into her, relishing the sensation of her extreme tightness around his thick rod. She cried out then moaned when he got serious with his rhythm.
He gripped her hips and pressed all the way in. She looked up and locked eyes with him in the mirrored wall opposite them. Her red, tear-streaked face glowed with eagerness. She propped up on her elbows and matched him thrust for thrust, using her hips to slam back against him over and over.
“Oh hell, I’m gonna….” The most exquisite feeling he’d ever experienced roared through him and lights flashed across his vision. She leaned her head back and he grabbed her hair, used it to fuck her harder, pull her against his body. She lifted up enough so he could see her breasts jiggle each time he slammed into her. Her eyes were closed, mouth open and when she clamped d
own hard on his cock, he grunted in surprise.
“Ahhh…dear God…Andreas!” His entire body contracted and clenched at the sound of his name on her lips when she came. He roared into the room as his vision dimmed and his hips bucked uncontrollably. The most beautiful and perfect climax gripped him as he spilled what seemed like a gallon of fluid into the condom. Dear God, had he just done that? Just let her call the shots? Oh, fuck me, who cares, it was worth it. His hips wouldn’t stop. The odd sensation of wanting to stay inside her forever made him shiver as the familiar fear/anger combo took over.
He let go of her hair, reached down, and untied her bond. She kept cooing and twitching. He put a hand on her neck and gently drew her up so her back pressed against his body. Sweat slicked her breasts as he cradled them in his hands, as his lips fluttered over her shoulder and neck. She took a deep breath then shifted forward so his cock slipped out of her. “Mmmmm…amazing indeed, Greek.” That tone—sassy and unacceptable—was back. He opened his eyes and glared at her in the mirror.
She disentangled from his embrace and pulled her skirt down. His chest tightened. Shit. He should not have let her do that. Should not have let her tell him what to do. But he wanted it, so badly so…oh hell, back to square one.
He pulled off the condom and tossed in the bin nearby. Tucking himself back in his shorts, he gazed at her, trying to keep his face neutral.
“Well,” she fluffed her hair, “Thanks and all. I guess we can at least credit Madame Eve for an amazing fuck, eh my lovely, large, forbidden one?” He heard her voice shaking under the smartass words. He had to act now. One chance to get this thing to go his way. Back under his control. He made a decision then—one he knew would be life changing for them both—but with a relief born of years spent seeking something just like the woman standing in front of him, with that incredible well-fucked look in her eyes.
