by Nikki Sloane
That was how it went for a while. He’d position my body and snap pictures, and every time he came back to guide me, I grew a little more excited. Eager for his touch. By the time he had me sitting with my back to the camera, I’d worked myself into a frenzy of need.
As the camera continued to click away, I undid the clasp of my bra, but held the cups to me. Not like it was a big reveal of my naked breasts, since the bra was flimsy, but the action encouraged him to move on. And there was also the order from me. “Take off your shirt.”
There was rustling, another click from the camera, and eventually heavy footfalls approached. I flinched when his hand swept my hair to the side, over one shoulder, tickling the sensitive skin and tiny hairs on my neck. I was hyperaware of him when he was this close. He toyed with the loose bra strap, trying to get it to lay just the way he wanted it to, and like me, the bra was mostly cooperative.
His tattoo was all patterns. Different colors and shapes, repeating. Half-circles and triangles overlapping that grouped together formed an even larger pattern. The ink flowed all across his chest and down, over his ribs and his left arm.
“Your tattoo is beautiful,” I whispered, my voice sounding as sincere as I felt.
“Thanks.” He pressed a button on the small remote in his hand, taking the first picture with him in the shot.
The tattoo was distracting. “What happened to your pants?” I asked.
Silas shot me a half-smile. “They fell off.”
“Are those lobsters?” His light blue boxers were patterned with red.
“Yeah.”
Here I was, in my sexiest lingerie, and he had on silly underwear? I grinned. His inked-up skin and muscular build made him look tough, but the juxtaposition with the comical pattern was charming.
His expression turned serious and intense as he grasped my shoulder and gently urged me down so my back was against the soft fur. Silas guided my feet to rest flat on the floor, my knees bent, and he knelt between them. He towered over me, all powerful and in command.
Click. Click. Click.
The camera’s shutter went much faster as he drew the bra away. I arched my back off the rug, shoving my breasts up to the ceiling. I wasn’t trying to be sexy now, but I felt that way as he tossed my bra out of the shot, and the camera documented Silas staring appreciatively at my bare flesh. My nipples tugged into sharp points, aching for more than just the touch of his gaze.
Hunger painted his face, but he stayed like a statue looming. “Touch yourself.”
He didn’t specify where, but I started with my breasts, sliding my palms over my firm skin, pushing my tits together. I let out a sigh when my thumbs rolled over my nipples.
Click.
“Okay,” I said in a hushed voice. “This is kind of hot.”
His smile was diabolical but he looked very much in agreement. Not to mention, his erection announced how much he liked what he saw. I left one hand on my breast, but the other skimmed down slowly, and he watched intently.
His bottom lip was snagged in his teeth for the briefest of moments when my fingers dove between my legs. “Fuck, I’m so wet.”
He exhaled sharply, drowning out the sound of the camera, but the flash of lights let me know he was probably pressing the button as fast as the camera would allow.
“I want to see your cock.” I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to last and needed the layer of clothing gone. As he shed his boxers, my fingers curled around my panties to pull them down—
“No.” The word from him was aggressive. “I want a few more shots with them on.”
A noise not unlike a whine came from my throat. “Just so you’re aware, no one has ever accused me of being patient.”
He chuckled. Was he enjoying my frustration? I was too turned on and needy to care, plus now his thick cock was in view, standing out proudly from his body. My hands returned to the soaked fabric covering my pussy, rolling circles on the aching nub as he stroked himself with a fist.
I couldn’t hear the camera or the music. My focus was only on the sexy visual of him fucking his hand. The way his muscles moved, the silver piercing gleamed, and his long, artistic fingers gripped his hard cock, filled me with nervous energy. It wasn’t news, but he was big, and getting his dick inside me was going to be quite the task.
Click.
When I pushed the crotch of my panties out of my way and touched my clit, his eyes hooded and his muscles tensed.
“I can’t stop thinking about touching you,” he said. “Tasting you. Fucking you.” He admitted it as he gave himself one stroke, all the way from tip to base.
“Yeah? Then do it.” I moaned as my fingers fumbled faster, searching for release that I wanted to come from him.
“You’re so goddamn hot, Regan. Why’d you bolt last time?”
I made a face. I didn’t want to get into it. “Can we not, right now?”
He leaned over, snatched my wrist, and flung it away. Then he fisted the front of my panties, urging them down. More clicks of the camera. I lifted my hips to make it easier. What did we look like? I was sprawled out beneath him as he dragged the underwear down my legs. I couldn’t wait to see the photos.
He’d said he’d edit my face out, but what about his? Maybe I could talk him into letting me keep a few just for myself before he altered them. It was because he was so . . . captivating. His strong jaw flexed when I was finally naked, as if the sight of it were almost too much.
I launched upright, shoved his hand aside, and wrapped both of mine around his cock. He was insanely hard, and throbbing. It turned me on even more to know this was my effect. I pumped my hands on him and enjoyed his reaction. He shuddered in my grip.
“Spread that pussy wide for the camera.”
It wasn’t a request, he demanded it. Any other time I would have balked, but not tonight. Common sense and my unwillingness to submit had burned away with my desire. I shifted on the rug so I faced the camera, and he slipped behind me. He positioned us so I was leaning against his chest, my bent knees open wide like I had nothing to hide, even though I did.
His damp lips ghosted kisses on the spot where my neck met my body, and goosebumps lifted on my legs. He moved fast then. My arms were tugged behind my back and out of view of the lens, so Silas could press the remote into one of my palms.
“This one,” he whispered, and pushed my finger on a button, “works the shutter. I want you to catch your face right as you’re coming.”
Right as I was—?
He’d passed me the remote so he could free up both of his hands, and instantly the pads of his fingers were tracing patterns on my legs. They slid over the inside of my knees as he scooted closer. His thick, muscular legs were on either side of me and his hard-on dug into the small of my back. Since my hands were already there, I closed my free one around his cock and squeezed.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Harder.”
I complied, tightening on the thick column of flesh. Soft as velvet on the tip, but rigid. Silas sank his teeth into my skin. The sudden sting of pain caused me to jolt, and I pressed the button on the remote without meaning to, at the same instant my knees tried to snap shut.
Oh, God. I swallowed a breath as he forced my knees back open, and a half-second later his palm was on my pussy, the heat soaking into me. I gulped another breath as his hand ground against my slit. Thick, probing fingers teased and pleasured, and I took another picture because I wanted to see what this moment looked like.
His hands were on fire.
One roamed over my body while the other focused only between my legs. He fingered my clit and my head fell back to rest against his shoulder. His touch, and his mouth sucking on my neck, made me weak, and it was the only kind of weak I could tolerate being. Was the air around us static-charged? It sure the hell felt like it.
“Oh my God,” I said breathlessly.
Tremors crept up my legs when his fingers stirred faster. His other hand worked my breast, kneading and pinching. My fi
st on his cock moved slowly, but it was awkward with my hand behind my back. I couldn’t get my grip as tight or as comfortable as I wanted it. But I wasn’t about to let go. I liked giving pleasure just as much as receiving it . . . maybe more so.
“You want to just do this all night?” His evil tone mocked me, and I loved it. “Are you going to suck me off and run away again?”
Had I wounded his ego that much by not fucking him? “What are you complaining about? You got a blow job.”
“Yeah, an amazing one, but let a guy buy you some fucking dinner afterward. It’s polite.”
His dark tone singed me further, and how did he expect me to respond when he was touching me like this? I choked back a moan when his index finger dipped into my body, and I clenched around it. God, it all felt so good. The fingers tugging on my nipple, the scruff of his chin against my shoulder, the tempo he’d started to fuck me with his finger . . . and the remote in my hand, letting me control when to capture each moment between us.
His chest rose and fell quicker as I twisted my grip on him, trying to match his pace. My head lolled toward him so I could peer up into his eyes. Breath came and went rapidly through his parted lips, and his forehead was creased in what looked like concentration. He’d been staring down, perhaps at my pussy, or maybe his gaze stopped at my breasts, but it lifted and met mine.
He was so good looking it wasn’t even fair.
I moaned loudly as his finger withdrew and resumed its circles on my swollen clit. Once again, his touch was a live wire. I jolted with pleasure, crying out as the build deep in my belly began. The orgasm swelled like a hurricane, picking up intensity when he lowered his mouth to mine.
His kiss—it took without asking permission. It was unapologetic and demanding, and as the orgasm dawned in me, I felt a new sensation. Conquered. And the scariest thing was I didn’t hate it like I thought I would. For some insane reason, I’d allow this man to do it.
“Oh, fuck!” I broke our kiss and squeezed my finger tight on the button. The lights flashed softly just as the first wave of bliss rolled up from my center, and I convulsed in his steady, sure embrace. Heat pumped through my veins as I came, delivering delicious shivers.
Holy hell, the orgasm was amazing. I gasped for breath, my grip on his cock slowing to a distracted stop, but he pulsed in my hand, as if enjoying watching me fall apart.
Orgasming with guys was sometimes difficult. I didn’t like to lose control, and I had a hard time letting go. Giving in to a moment of vulnerability always opened the door for emotions, most of which I didn’t want to have. Try as I might to be a tomboy, I was still a woman. The need for connection on a higher level than just a physical one lurked in the shadows of my damaged heart.
No, I steeled myself as I began to come down from the euphoria. You will not get attached. Attachment brought hurt and disappointment, and I couldn’t stomach any more right now.
His hands ceased moving on me, but stayed. My breathing grew steady and even, and the blood rushing through my ears was quiet again, so the only sound was the music wafting in the open space around us.
“I want you inside me,” I whispered, and it narrowly avoided sounding like a plea.
Chapter
ELEVEN
Silas moved like I’d cracked a whip. His support was gone so fast, I fell backward onto the rug. But his hand was there to catch my head and stop me so I didn’t slam against the ground. He lowered me the last inch and then shot to his feet, moving with purpose off the backdrop and disappearing into the dark beyond the lights.
There was rustling as he dug in his discarded pants, no doubt for a condom, and then he stepped into view. Gloriously naked, and my head clouded and swirled with lust. I flinched when the unopened condom wrapper smacked onto my belly.
“Get that open,” he ordered, dropping down to his knees on the rug between my bent legs. His rough hands were on the insides of my knees. He wanted me to open the condom for him? Annoyance flamed and heated my face. Like I was about to service him? He could open his own fucking condom—
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
His hands had coursed up my thighs and spread me wide open to him, and he sank down to the rug. He couldn’t open his condom because he was about to be too busy going down on me. My back bowed off the rug and I seized his head in my hands, tangling my fingers in the strands of his long hair.
All the air drained from my lungs as his tongue tasted me.
Oh my fucking God. He was good with his hands, and even better with his tongue. I got dizzy from how hard he had me breathing, and under the lights, I began to sweat. His tongue fluttered and massaged. A panicked moan escaped from my lips as I writhed. Jesus. He made my legs shake.
“Fuck me,” I cried.
He paused just so he could speak. “I am fucking you.” And then he was right back at it. His intense gaze watched mine as his tongue licked and stroked. The image of him on his knees, his mouth covering my pussy, was hot as sin. He lifted up just enough so I could watch his pink tongue trail over the most intimate part of me.
Control was slipping from my fingers faster than the locks of his soft hair, and I placed a trembling hand over my lips to stay quiet. What was I supposed to do? Come again for him? I wasn’t even touching him other than my fingers threaded on his head. I wanted to give pleasure as well. My greedy body had no problem with this plan, though. The thirst for another orgasm was growing every passing second. With every caress of his mouth.
“Please,” I begged. I couldn’t help it, and I wouldn’t feel shame over asking for what I wanted.
His pointed attention went to the condom that rode untouched on my quaking stomach. “I gave you one job, Regan,” he teased. There was another flash of his tongue as he licked. “I’ll have to keep doing this until you’ve got something for me to put on.”
I snatched the condom up as fast as humanly possible and tore it open. He was up in a heartbeat. Maybe he was right at the edge like I was, but concealing it better. He yanked the condom from the wrapper and rolled it down his length. I’d gotten up on my elbows and attempted to sit up, but he crushed me with his heavy weight, flattening me to the rug.
Missionary wasn’t the most submissive position, but it was a close second. I would have preferred to be on top, but when the tip of his cock nudged between my legs . . . yeah, didn’t care anymore.
I cradled his hips with my thighs, wanting to control his descent into me. He had the bulk of his weight braced on his forearms that trapped my head, his fingers curling into my hair, like he wanted to hold me in place. He was radiating heat, and his damp skin pressed against my chest.
His eyes focused on my mouth, and studied it like the most fascinating secrets might pour out of it any second. Then his forehead rested against mine, giving me nowhere else to look but at him. It was . . . shockingly intense. My lips rounded into a silent O as his cock pushed forward, creeping inside.
As he intruded, a pleasurable but tight feeling of being full came with it, and instinctively I tried to back off of him. Yet there was no escape. When the slightest noise of discomfort came from me, he went rigid.
“Okay?” he whispered.
Concern was such a strange emotion. I barely knew him, and most of what he knew about me were lies. Or half-truths, which were essentially the same. It made me uncomfortable when others showed concern. Even Shane’s worried looks left me feeling uneasy.
And Silas was dominating in both presence and personality, so I hadn’t expected him to freeze. What difference did it make to him if I wasn’t enjoying the first moment his enormous cock pressing inside me? I’d get used to it.
“I’m okay,” I said. Being with him disoriented me and must have shut down my common sense. “I like it a little rough anyway.”
His expression went blank. Fuck, why did I just say that? What a great way to make things awkward. It was the truth, but one I hadn’t admitted to another soul. At least, I believed it was true. Watching the Doms at the blind
fold club had started a fire in me I couldn’t get back under control. Why not go all the way and tell Silas I was the one who wanted to be rough?
“That’s interesting,” he said finally.
I groaned. “Jesus, forget I said that. I didn’t mean to make it weird.” I could distract him with the sex. I locked my ankles together behind his back and urged him deeper.
He blinked rapidly as if he couldn’t focus his vision. “Motherfucking shit. Gimme a minute.” He blew out a long breath that was almost a hiss.
Was he struggling? Did it feel so good he was having a hard time restraining himself? A scowl threatened his expression when I shifted my hips, allowing him to slide further inside. The muscles in his shoulders and arms were so tight they were quivering.
“I’m warning you, you’re playing with fire,” he said, his face serious. “We should go slow.”
My response was immediate. “Fuck that. Give it to me.”
He pushed the last inch of himself inside, and the tight stretch felt so good, I almost let loose a sound of relief. His hipbones dug into my inner thighs as he seemed to collect himself. Prepping for the main event.
My hands wound around the back of his neck and my lips pressed against his. It was overwhelming. I’d needed satisfaction for so long—vibrators had been a temporary fix, only staving off the worst of my cravings. Placating me.
I cried out with pleasure when he moved, and my nails dug into the thick cord of his neck. His thrust was . . . hard. And deep. My eyes slammed shut as he buried his cock so far inside it caused my eyes to roll back. It came from my lips dripping with encouragement. “Yes, Silas. Yes.”
He drew his lower body back, and then crashed his hips into me. Our moans matched each other’s, just as our panting breaths did afterward. That was when he began to move in earnest. Fucking me like I’d hoped he would. The force of him drove me into the rug and I scored my nails down his smooth back.
There was something wrong with me. I thought I didn’t want anything from him other than the sex, but now I hoped my nails were marking him. Announcing he was mine, just for tonight.
