STRIPPED (The Slate Brothers, Book Three)

by Harper James

  He’ll be naked— I’ll be in my bra and pants still, but he’ll be naked in my room. I step back and gingerly grasp the edges of his boxers with my fingers, then tug them down. I have to pause when I reach the top of his cock— he’s so hard that it catches the elastic. I look up at Tyson, and he’s waiting patiently, knowing what I’ll have to do to negotiate the clothing over him. I take a breath, then reach over the top of his boxers to grasp his cock in my right hand. I whimper at the sensation— he’s so warm, so hard, and I can feel blood pulsing through him. Tyson groans deep in his throat when I touch him, and it reassures me that I’m doing something right.

  I move his cock closer to his stomach in order to pull his boxers down; when they’re over him, they drop to the floor easily, and just like that, I’m kneeling in front of a naked man. Tyson studies me, watching me nervously stare at him, then says, “Stand up, Anna, and take your clothes off for me.”

  I gulp— I haven’t even gotten over him being naked. But I do as he says, rising and reaching behind my back to finger at the clasp of my bra. I unhook it, take a breath, and then let it slide off my chest. My nipples, already sensitive and aroused, prickle at the air; Tyson takes a breath, and I see his cock stir at the sight. I’ve never been particularly proud of my breasts— they’re average size, and a nice enough shape I suppose, but nothing I found particularly brag-worthy. Tyson licks his lips lightly, and the memory of his mouth on my bra-covered nipple causes my core to burn.

  “Should I keep going?” I ask in a whisper.

  Tyson takes a breath, debating this, then lifts a hand to fondle one breast, then the other. His hand is gentle, but strong— there’s nothing light about the touch. I bite my lip at the feeling— I don’t want him to stop. My eyes drift shut as he rubs his thumb back and forth across a nipple, a satisfied noise rising from his throat.

  “Your body, Anna,” he says with a long exhale. “It’s perfect.”

  I almost object— that’s what women are supposed to do, right?— but the look in his eyes tell me that to him, his words are absolutely true. I reach up nervously and take my right breast in my hand, caressing my own nipple, and Tyson looks hungry at the sight. He reaches forward, takes my other hand, and places it hard against his cock, so I can stroke myself and him at once. I feel so soft, so small compared to him.

  “Now,” he says, fighting for a steady breath. “Take your pants off. But I want you to face away from me when you do it, and bend at the waist. Understand?”

  I nod and withdraw my hands from his body and my own, then turn my back to him. I hook my fingers into the sides of my yoga pants and tug down, then bend over at the waist as instructed. I’m wearing a thong— one of the athletic-wear ones, so nothing fancy— which means my ass is in full view when I bend over and step out of the pool of black fabric at my ankles. I’m about to rise when Tyson stops me with a firm hand on my left ass cheek, his other on my lower back, keeping me bent over.

  He rubs my ass tenderly, squeezes it, presses his thumb against me, and then spanks me. It happens so fast that I yelp and, were it not for his balancing hand on my lower back, would have fallen forward. It wasn’t hard, and it didn’t hurt— but it stung in a way that thrills me. I turn red at this— I like being spanked? What kind of girl am I? But the place where his hand struck is alive and desperate for more, and I find myself leaning back.

  “That’s right,” Tyson says. “I knew you’d like that.” He spanks me again, and I moan loud and long. Another, another, and my nerves are firecrackers shooting through my body, my hair swinging forward with each smack.

  “I knew you’d like giving in, letting go of control,” he murmurs, as if to himself. “Tell me how much you like it.”

  “I…I love it,” I admit, as he spanks me again.

  Fuck.

  I do love it.

  I feel wild and out of control, and it feels right.

  More right than I ever could have imagined.

  Tyson makes a guttural, pleasured sound, and then spanks me once more, leaving his hand firmly against my bottom this time. He slides his hand down and I whimper as the sides of his fingers brush up against my pussy. My panties are a barrier between us, but they’re soaked through, and he rubs the side of his hand against me. I jump forward when his thumb presses firmly up against my other entrance, a place I’ve never dreamed of wanting to be touched.

  “Shhh,” he says. “Trust me.” He presses his thumb tighter to my ass, working it in small circles, and even through my panties I can tell that I love the feeling. Finally, Tyson puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me to standing upright; blood rushes from my head. “Lay down,” he tells me.

  “On my back, or on my stomach?” I ask, pliant, obedient. Willing to do almost anything now.

  I just want him, I want him to make me come, to make me his.

  “I knew you’d want to give yourself to me,” he says, thrilled that I’ve asked. “On your back.”

  I obey, and go to my perfectly made bed. I lie on my back, knees together; Tyson walks forward, his cock pointed straight up, hard as steel, and easily spreads my knees with his hands. My stomach clenches at how exposed I am, but the word “exposed” is redefined when he admires my legs for a moment, then slides his hands down my thighs and hooks a finger through the crotch of my panties. I cry out at the feeling of his finger brushing against my bare skin, and he smiles, then tugs my panties down to my knees and over my ankles in a single, easy motion. I’m lying totally bare before him, and I’ve never felt so vulnerable— or so excited.

  “That pussy,” he says, shaking his head. “Do you know how badly I want to sink my cock into it right now?” He takes a breath, scans my body again. “How badly I want to sink my cock into every part of you? That mouth, sweetheart. That fuckable mouth.”

  I’m undone by his words, and I feel my lips part, as if my body is convinced I can take his cock in my mouth even though my mind definitely isn’t. Tyson grins at the sight, then lowers his head to my neck. He kisses me there, biting at my skin, running his mouth down my shoulders, my arms, and finally over to my breasts. He kisses around the underside, licking at them, biting lightly, slowly, carefully making his way to my nipples. When he finally flicks his tongue across one, I buck upward in surprise and pleasure. He sucked my nipples through my bra, but having his mouth against my bare skin is a different sensation entirely.

  “Anna, relax,” he says, but it’s hard to follow his orders when they’re spoken around my breast. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and massages it with his tongue, rubbing my other breast with his hand, playing with my hardened points. He takes my nipple between his teeth delicately, pulling back, and I push my other breast toward him, eager for him to pay just as much attention to that side. He does so, taking me in his mouth, then pressing my breasts together and laving his tongue from one to the other, licking each and every inch of skin.

  Tyson kisses me between the breasts and meets my eye. He looks dangerous, wicked, excited, and I realize why as he begins to kiss down my stomach, moving closer to my pussy inch by inch. My legs drift shut again, but Tyson easily parts them with his hand, then swings my legs over his shoulders. I try to pull back, my more modest side shrieking over the fact that Tyson has a completely unfettered view of my most private place. He won’t have any of it, though, and scoots my hips closer. I whimper when he bows his head down, and his breath tickles skin that no man has ever been so close to before.

  “I’m going to lick your pussy, Anna,” Tyson says. “Would you like that?”

  I struggle for words. “Yes. I think. I don’t— yes,” I stammer.

  “That’s right. No one has ever tasted your pussy before,” he growls. He moves his mouth closer, my limbs lock up involuntarily when he kisses the insides of my thighs, one after another. In between kisses, he says, “But I’m going to taste you, and I’m going to make you come again and again.”

  And then he licks my slit in one long, gentle stroke, his tongue barely pushing pas
t my lips, dipping into my wetness without truly penetrating me. It’s enough, though, for me to know that Tyson is right— I am absolutely going to come soon. I moan, pressing against his shoulders with my legs to lift my hips into the air, closer to his mouth. Tyson licks me again, a little deeper this time, then backs off, kissing my thighs again, my stomach, making me long for his tongue on my slit again.

  I’m about to beg for him to continue when he kisses my pussy, this time not just with his tongue, but with his lips. He presses them against the heat between my legs, and then slides his tongue against my pussy, pushing through my lips until I feel his tongue sliding into me. I moan and instinctively grab at his head, fisting his hair in my hands. Tyson growls, and begins pulse his tongue into me, fucking me with it; I lift my hips higher. I want more.

  Tyson grabs my ass to steady my against his mouth, and then moves up, abandoning my entrance entirely. He uses his mouth to spread my lips apart, and then his tongue lands firmly on my clit. I scream— truly scream— in surprise and pleasure and need. Tyson is unrelenting, and he begins to suck my clit lightly, varying the speed and intensity so there’s no getting used to the sensation. I look down as I contort with arousal, and see that Tyson’s eyes are on my face— he’s studying the effect he has on me, admiring his own handiwork as I sweat and moan and fumble for words.

  “Tyson,” I pant, the word little more than a breath.

  He doesn’t answer— he can’t, not with his mouth buried against me. He does, however, shift so that he’s supporting my hips with a single hand. He then reaches up and, mouth still sucking on my clit, slides a finger into my pussy. I cry out in delight as he begins to rub my interior, stroking my front wall with hard, fast motions. His fingers are in me, a man is in me, if only his finger, and I’m going to orgasm like this. I try to warn Tyson that he’s sending me over the edge, but I’ve lost the ability to form words. The world goes sparkly, then dark, as a powerful rush sweeps over me and I moan loud and long, clenching his hair, pushing his mouth tighter to me, gripping his fingers with my pussy. He finger fucks me through the orgasm, and keeps my clit in his mouth the whole while, licking it lightly each time I start to come back to reality.

  When I finally crash back to earth, my limbs are week and my vision is blurred. I’ve never orgasmed like that before, neither in length or intensity, and I find myself curling over to one side to catch my breath. Tyson sits back on his knees, rubbing my ass and hip gently.

  “That’s right,” he says. “You did perfectly, Anna.”

  “I didn’t do anything— you did it all,” I murmur into my pillow.

  “You let me have you,” he reminds me. “And you’re going to do it again.”

  “What?” I ask, blinking. I orgasmed once already— I’ve never even made myself come twice in one night. I bite my lip, shake my head, wondering how I can explain this.

  “Shhh…” he says, then slides his hand down the side of my ass. He keeps his eyes on my face as he penetrates me with one finger, then uses his thumb to massage my sore and swollen clit. I moan again, and he smiles. “See? We’re just getting started. Sit up, Anna.”

  I struggle to do so— my limbs still feel like Jello— but after a moment I’m on my knees on the bed. I don’t know what to expect, I know I wasn’t expecting Tyson to lie down beside me. I tremble when he steadies me with one hand, then uses the other to urge me to swing a leg over his shoulders. I’m straddling his face, looking down at him, shivering with pleasure at his breath against my pussy.

  “When you orgasm this time, Anna,” he says, letting his lips brush against my clit as he speaks, “I’m going to pull you forward, so I can finger your ass while you come.”

  “Tyson,” I beg, shaking my head.

  “Not hard. Not deep. But I’m going to, Anna, and you’re going to enjoy it,” he says sternly, and I bite my lip, then nod. Tyson looks satisfied, then reaches up and pulls my hips to his face, sinking his tongue into my pussy, lapping at me with expert precision and animal-like hunger.

  He does exactly as promised— when I come, he pitches me forward, sucking my clit hard and rough as I moan. Before I remember his promise, he’s thrust his thumb into my pussy and slid another finger around to my asshole, pressing ever so slightly until he gains the smallest amount of access. I cry out like a wild thing, needy and desperate as my heart and nerves and body and mind explode with pleasure.

  And just like he said I would, I enjoy every second of it— and then I beg for more.

  Chapter 8

  I feel exhausted, my body weak and tender by the time Tyson allows me to rest and curls me up into his arms. He barely seems winded, but it’s clear he’s pleased by how worn out I am. It’s seven o’clock in the morning, and the sun is starting to rise. I’m not going to my morning class, obviously, because I can’t imagine I’ll be able to stay conscious for the whole thing. Tyson strokes my hair, runs his fingers up and down my arms, studying me, keeping me in that state of blissful surrender. He can look at me however he wants, touch me however he wants— this, I now understand, is what he meant when he said he had to “have” me. He has me. He hasn’t even fucked me, but he has me.

  “You can fall asleep, Anna,” he murmurs in my ear as his fingers dance across my breasts.

  “I don’t want to fall asleep if you’re still here. I want to do…I want more,” I say sleepily. “Besides, you did all the work.”

  “My mouth on your pussy is not work, believe me. And you’re too tired. Next time,” he answers, kissing my brow. “I need to go anyhow.”

  I try to protest, but there’s little point to it; he unwinds me from his body, then takes the time to tuck the blankets back around my limbs. I watch him get dressed, amazed at how he seems to own the space— my own bedroom— even when doing something as menial as putting his clothes on. No wonder he’s such a strong leader on the field; he has the sort of presence that makes you certain he’s in charge. He gives me a long look, then a half sort of smile, and finally slips out of my room. I hear him pause by the couch, I assume to pull his shoes on, and am about to drift back to sleep when I hear another door open— Trishelle’s door.

  I gasp as silently as I can manage, and sit up— she’s going to see him in the living room. Will he tell her what happened? Will she know? I stand up too fast, dizzy and achy from last night’s events, and hurry to the door, listening through it.

  “Tyson!” Trishelle says cheerfully. “I didn’t realize you stayed over.”

  “I did,” Tyson says in that solid, steady voice.

  “I had a great time,” Trishelle says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. I frown at the door. Trishelle goes on. “See you later?”

  “Sure,” Tyson says politely. I hear some shuffling, and then the front door closing. I force myself to count to thirty, then open my bedroom door. Trishelle is in the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee. There are circles under her eyes, but last night’s makeup is making her look perkier than I suspect she really is.

  “Hey! Did I wake you up when we came in?” she asks. There’s weight to her words, like she’s making sure that if I’d missed the fact that she came home with a guy, I’d know now. The thing I really notice though is the fact that Trishelle, my best friend for over a decade, didn’t even notice I wasn’t home, and didn’t think to ask if I was cool with her bringing a guy here.

  “No. I didn’t hear you,” I answer, which is technically true, I suppose. I sit down at the bar, unsure what to say. Trishelle is buzzing in the kitchen, an aura of delight around her. I can tell by her body language that she wants me to ask about the guy who just left, or, if I’d missed that, the “we” she’d just mentioned. I bite, just because I want to know what she’ll say. “So, how was that auction thing?”

  She pounces, spinning to me and leaning over the counter so her cleavage— she’s still wearing the push-up bra from last night— bulges. “Anna, it was crazy. So, I was the second to last one to go, and I was sort of sad because all the really h
ot senior players had already bid on the other girls. It was pretty much a given that me and the girl who just barely made weight to get on the squad were going to get stuck with juniors, and I basically wanted to cry. It just sucks, you know? I’ve worked so hard, and the captains intentionally put me last, and…well…” She sighs, takes a quick drink of coffee, and goes on. “So, I get up on the stage, and I’m spinning around and everything, trying to not look miserable, and then all of the sudden Tyson Slate bids on me.”

  “Tyson Slate,” I say.

  “You wouldn’t know who he is since you don’t follow football,” Trishelle says, waving a hand at me. “But he’s the senior star of the team, and comes from this legendary football family, and he never does stuff like bid in the auction. He basically doesn’t do anything but play football. He’s stupid hot though, and all mysterious and broody, probably cause his dad is a legit murderer and is on trial. The dad is in the tabloids all the time— I bet you’d recognize him.”

  “Maybe so.” I’m trying to keep my face neutral. Trying to keep my face unreadable. Like Tyson’s.

  “So he bids on me. Like, a winning bid. It’s the first time he’s ever bid on anyone. I think the seniors cheerleaders were a little mad, honestly, because they sort of thought of him as their prize, you know? They’re always trying to hook up with him, but none of them have. Anyway, everyone was cheering and celebrating and he comes and helps me down off the stage and we party for a few hours with everyone else and I drink way too many cups of hunch punch, but it was just so crazy because like…Tyson Slate! He won me!”

  “Wow. That sounds…fun. In that sort of women-as-property way,” I say.

  Trishelle scowls at me. “I told you, it’s all for fun. Anyway, so it starts getting late and people are sort of coupling off and leaving and one of the captains told me not to get my hopes up, because Tyson Slate probably bid on me because he felt bad for me or because he’s trying to seem more involved with the team. But then he asks if we can come back here.”