by Kresley Cole
What would it take to get this man's mouth on my breasts? When I imagined him sucking me . . . a soft moan escaped my lips, my back subtly arching.
He clamped his hand over my nape. "What kind of escort brazenly denies a client? You're either starving at this job--or making a fortune. . . ." He trailed off when I rolled my hips, running my pussy over his cock, with only my moistened panties and his slacks between us.
I gasped at the sensation, breaths shallowing. My clitoris began to throb.
He drew his hands away, resting his arms over the back of the couch again, as if he'd made a conscious decision not to touch me. I got the impression that I was being tested somehow--or that he was. "Put your hands behind your back. Now."
He probably expected me to clasp my elbows. "Of course." Instead, I dropped my hands directly behind my ass, grasping high on his thighs to hold my balance.
He tensed again, but before he could say another word, I whipped my hips over his length. My head fell back as I moaned. I'd forgotten how irresistible sexual play could be, had forgotten about uncontrollable urges and the hardness of a man's body.
I faced the Russian, beginning to ride him. Though his gaze was rapt on our point of contact, he refused to move his own hips to meet me. No matter. The bulge of his zipper had lined up with my swollen clitoris, my soaked panties rubbing that bud. Friccion! Sultry, damp friction . . . sent me ever closer to orgasm. Soon I was panting, grinding him like a pole dancer.
He clutched the couch, his long fingers gone white-knuckled. "Is this what you think I need?" His voice alone could make me come. The husky timbre had only deepened. "To be ridden?"
"I think you need passion." I certainly did.
"Maybe if it wasn't feigned."
I nearly laughed. "Oh, I'm not feigning anything." How to tell him I would climax soon?
"Wait." He seized my shimmying hips, holding me still. "Up."
Confused, I put my hands on his shoulders and rose up on my knees. Was he kicking me off again? Then I followed his narrow-eyed gaze.
His slacks, which probably cost thousands, now had a damp spot over his groin. I'd wetted him through my panties.
I should have been worried about his reaction, but I was too far gone to care. I dropped as low as his hands would allow, wanting my pussy back atop his hot hardness.
He grated, "Blyad !" Whatever that meant. "You're truly wet for me. Very wet. You've been using me to get off?"
"Por Dios, why are you talking so much?" I said between breaths. "Want to come, Ruso."
He blinked at me. The cool, detached Russian looked stunned. "Then by all means." He released his grip. "Continue."
"Gracias." I sighed with relief, letting my nipples skim his chest on my way down. If he'd allowed that . . . I threaded my fingers through his hair and leaned in to kiss his neck. When I gave a little suck over his pulse point, his head tipped back.
I lost the ridge of his zipper, so I writhed atop him, hunting for it. Had his hips finally moved? Did he want that contact too?
I found the perfect spot. "Ay, perfeccion."
When I set back in, he faced me, his blue gaze flicking from my eyes, to my lips, down to my tits and thong and back.
As I pleasured myself, his own lips caught my attention. They were as attractive as everything else about him. The fuller bottom one had a sexy dip in the middle. What would it be like to kiss him?
Ivanna said it bonded people too much, and that you had to save something special for a lover in your life. I had no lover, and no fear of bonding. Right now, hovering on the edge of orgasm, I had no fears at all! I gazed at his lips, licking my own.
"You think I need to be kissed?" His words were hoarse.
"Doesn't everyone--"
He bucked his hips hard, rocking his unyielding cock against my panties.
At last! "Oh! Friccion . . . Do it again, por favor."
He did it again. And again. Soon he was groaning with each thrust, but the sound was pained, as if he were getting punched in the stomach at the end of each one--or cutting himself off.
I'd think about all this--later. "Don't stop!"
As he shoved against my pussy, I muttered incomprehensible things, switching from one language back to the other, struggling to communicate that I was on the verge. "Oh, my God. Ay, Dios mio."
"You're about to come?" he asked in a strained voice.
"About to combust!" I clasped his face with both hands.
Our gazes locked. His was still defiant and angry, his chin jutting stubbornly--even as he met my undulations.
"No, no, carino." Rubbing my thumb over his bottom lip, I whispered, "No te pongas bravo conmigo. Don't be angry with me. We'll both feel good soon." I leaned down and covered his mouth with my own. His lips were firm and hot. I licked the seam of them, whimpering. My movements quickened until I was bucking over the Russian's cock.
He parted his lips; the tip of my tongue found his, the spark that set off--
Pleasure. Exploding. Electrifying me.
Currents sizzled through my veins to make way for . . . fire.
"Mmmm!" I cried out into his mouth. Bliss engulfed me, forcing my hips to gyrate on him. Lost, I rubbed my tits against his chest. I moaned, riding him like a toy as my pussy contracted over and over.
Only as sanity returned and the spasms faded did I realize he wasn't returning the kiss. I drew back.
He'd gone completely still. That strain within him only grew. "You kissed me. You came. That was not supposed to happen."
"It was the heat of the moment. No te pongas--"
He wrapped my hair around his fist, forcing me closer till our lips met.
When I gasped, he set in with a fervor. He kissed as if he hadn't taken a woman's lips in years, as if he'd only been storing up need. I panted; he heaved breaths. His hands dropped to clench my half-bare ass.
A growl sounded from his chest. An actual growl. The idea of inspiring that kind of lust turned me on so much, my arousal returned multiplied. I held his face between my hands and sucked on his tongue. He groaned, his fingers digging into my curves as I started grinding on him again.
I broke away for a breath. "What are you doing to me?"
"I could ask you the same," he bit out in a baffled tone. "I detest surprises. I don't tolerate them. And yet . . ." His brows drew together. He looked . . . not calculating, but something akin to that--as if he were working out the angles of a problem. "Still here," he muttered to himself. He yanked me close, burying his face against my breasts, lips seeking.
I arched to his mouth.
"The moment I saw these pouty nipples, I feared I couldn't let you go until I'd sucked them."
Feared? Why would he . . . My thoughts grew dim when he turned his head to take a nipple between his lips, dragging his tongue over the sensitive peak. When he suckled it with a groan, I cried out, "Finally!" I was on fire again! Raw inside. Needing more.
He turned to the other one, muttering, "So sweet and plump. They tease my tongue." Once he'd left that one wet and aching as well, he pulled me back to face him, excitement in his expression. "All of this is acceptable."
"I-I certainly think so."
"Very acceptable."
Okay? What was going on here? I sensed in him a seething need for me, barely contained--and building. Another woman might fear it; I drank it in like wine.
"Ah, little Cat." A gleam shone in his wicked blue eyes. "You're about to get fucked. Hard."
CHAPTER 4
He laid me back on the couch, looming over me, predatory. Without warning, he grabbed both of my ankles in one of his hands, lifting my body up as he snatched my thong off and tossed the silk away.
"Spread your thighs."
Confused by this turnaround, I tentatively did. Eyes riveted to my pussy, he licked his lips. "So lush. I can see your need. Did you enjoy the orgasm you stole?"
"Stole?"
He knelt on the couch, reaching between my legs. He ran his forefinger along my lips, spread
ing my moisture, then rubbed me right over my entrance.
My lids went heavy as I watched his face. His gaze was keen with fascination as I grew even wetter for him. I got the impression that he hadn't fingered a girl in forever. Of course, his "script" hadn't called for it.
He teased my opening until I was squirming, about to shove myself down on his finger. "You just get wetter and wetter. I could make you come again, only from this."
Yes, but I'd lose my mind! "Mas. Give me more, Maxim."
He narrowed his eyes. "You call me Maxim?"
"I'll call you whatever you want if you finger me more." My toes were curling in my stilettos.
As he probed deeper, inch by inch, I moaned from the filling sensation.
"Your little clit's so swollen. Do you want me to rub it?"
"Yes!"
"Or do you need to be fucked?"
"Both! Either! Anything . . ."
Yet then he frowned. "Your pussy's tight. Very tight."
Would he know that I hadn't had sex in forever? Need to distract him. "I'll be this tight around your cock, querido."
He pumped his finger inside me. "Tell me you want it." He laid his free hand over one of my breasts, thumbing a nipple.
"Yes, I want your cock!" My thighs quivered. I tripped toward another orgasm, and he hadn't even touched my clit. I'd never felt so much pleasure with a man; I loved being an escort!
He pinched my other nipple. "Then I won't give it to you yet." He stilled the hand between my legs. "Fuck my finger." Again I sensed a surge of anticipation in him, as if he were a kid with a new toy.
Shameless with need, I began to move against his hand, sending his finger in and out of my pussy. I was already about to levitate when his thumb made contact with my aching clit. "Ummm!"
He rubbed it with slow circles while fingering my core.
My eyes rolled back in my head, and I arched my back, stiffened nipples pointed at the ceiling.
"You're about to come again?" he asked in disbelief. "Look at me."
With difficulty, I raised my head.
"You don't come without my permission."
Que? I had no control.
"Ask me for my permission. Say 'Can I come for you?' "
Confused, I whispered the question.
I didn't realize I'd spoken in Spanish until he rasped, "In English, beautiful girl."
"Can I come for you?"
"Not until I tell you." He wedged another finger into my core, screwing them into my tightness.
The fullness sent me over the edge. "Maxim!" The fire was back, searing every inch of my body. As I thrashed my head, I dimly heard him telling me he could feel my pussy squeezing, that I'd been bad, and he'd punish me for coming without permission.
But all the while he thrust his big fingers and circled his thumb, drawing out my orgasm, forcing me to ride each mindless wave, each delicious spasm. . . .
When he withdrew from me, I moaned with loss, still not sated. For some reason, I was even hornier than when we'd started.
His smoldering gaze raked over my naked body, taking in my glistening pussy, my flushed chest, my swollen breasts--even my hair fanning out wildly from my head. He reached forward, grasping a lock. "You're so fucking sexy," he grated, and immediately frowned, dropping my hair. Was he surprised that he found me sexy--or that he'd told me? "You want me too."
"Want? Estoy desesperada!"
He stood to undress. "Desperate? Don't worry, I'm about to give you what you need." He removed his shoes and socks, then he pulled his sweater over his head.
As he revealed more of his body, I shivered with appreciation. His wide shoulders were muscled, his pecs rigid with dusky nipples, his arms brawny. He had sculpted washboard abs, and a tantalizing black goody trail that I wanted to nuzzle. His tanned skin sported a few raised scars over his chest and arms, but they didn't detract from his hotness.
His expression grew stern. "You disobeyed me. You came without permission."
I stretched my arms over my head, loving his gaze on my tits. "I regret nothing."
He unbuckled his belt, his movements menacing. So why did I feel no fear of this strange man? He snagged a condom from his pocket, then unzipped his slacks. As he worked them over his massive erection, I gasped.
His cock was a work of art. Distended, damp-tipped, with a plum-colored crown and a thick veined shaft. I wished I could explore every inch of it at my leisure. I'd never been a fan of head, but I licked my lips to imagine my tongue flicking that bulbous tip, teasing it. My mouth nursing that length . . .
He stood nude before me, his body the most mouthwatering I'd ever seen. All I could think: Best job ever!!!
He wrapped his big fist around his shaft, giving a stroke that rendered me breathless. More moisture beaded the slit. As he rolled on what had to be an extra-large condom, he said, "Show me what I'm soon to enjoy." There was no mistaking his tone. He'd given me a command.
Beautiful arrogant man.
I would follow his order, but I'd do it my way. I lifted one foot onto the couch back, resting the stiletto heel against the sofa's piping, then let my knees fall wide. I undulated in this position, taunting him with my spread pussy. "How do you like variety now, querido?"
His cock pulsated in his hand, and he muttered something in Russian that sounded like a curse. He returned to the couch, kneeling between my legs. The difference in our sizes struck me. He made me feel tiny and fragile--while he was all hard edges and power.
He leaned over me, using one hand to restrain my wrists over my head. With his other, he gripped his shaft and aimed it. When the crown slipped down my slickened lips, he hissed in a breath. "So fucking wet for me."
As he prodded that broad head, I had my first worry.
I was soaked, but he was big--
He shoved inside to the hilt, yelling with pleasure.
Too big! "Ow! Hold up!" I strained against his grip. "Mierda, give me a minute."
Lips parted, he released my wrists and drew back on his knees, leaving me pinned on his cock. " 'Ow? Hold up?' " This was the second time he'd flashed me that expression of shock/amazement; I termed the look Maximo shockeado. "You're determined to enjoy your fucking?"
I guessed other women had let him shove away. "Let me get used to your size." The fit was so tight that I could feel his dick throbbing with each of his heartbeats. "Can you do that?"
He held himself still, shuddering from the effort. His skin began to dampen with a sheen of sweat. He grated, "Somehow."
Tentatively, I rolled my hips, sending his shaft in and out of me.
In . . . out . . .
In . . . out . . .
In. Out.
In.
Each time I could accept his length more readily, my body accommodating his. Pleasure subdued the pain. My lids grew heavy again.
"Good girl." His gaze was fixed between my legs. "I see you taking me, dushen'ka."
When he leaned over me once more, I threaded my fingers through his thick hair. At my ear, he murmured Russian words, then he took my mouth. He'd liked it when I'd sucked on his tongue, so I did it again--
He growled into our kiss, his hips shooting forward between my legs. It didn't hurt this time, wrenched a moan from me. He withdrew, then sank even deeper. And it was . . .
Increible! I broke away to cry, "Yes, yes! Mas, Maxim!"
Leaning on his forearms, he began to surge into me. His black hair was mussed from my frantic grip, his eyes hooded. He stared down at my face, brows drawn, as if I'd confounded him. "You're making me lose control."
Did I appear as lost to lust as he did? "I don't want you to hold back," I panted, spellbound by him.
His gaze narrowed, as if I'd challenged him--or was giving him lip service. He withdrew, then rammed his hips forward, taking my breath away.
But I loved his strength, his intensity. "That's all you've got, Ruso?"
He went to his knees again and gripped my hips. "That was a warm-up." Seeming to use every mu
scle in his body, he yanked me close as he shoved. "Uhn!"
I cried out, lifting up to meet his next thrust. He rocked into me; I rolled up to him, the pressure hitting my clit each time. Once the two of us were in sync, our bodies moving together, he pistoned between my legs, railing me as I'd never been fucked before.
Fuck of the century? Try millennium! I was holding on for dear life, hovering on the very verge of orgasm.
"So tight," he grunted, his jaw set as he pounded away.
Ay, Dios mio, he could move! Each time he snatched me to him, his biceps bulged. His pecs flexed, hard slabs of muscle beneath sweat-lathered skin.
Just watching his toiling body pushed me closer to the brink. He enjoyed watching as well, was transfixed by my bouncing breasts.
The tension gathering inside me was about to release--if he kept up those long, deep thrusts. So close . . . so close . . .
Accent thick as gravel, he bit out, "I love your nipples, your tits, your gripping pussy. The way you watch me with those stunning eyes. You like to watch me fuck you?"
"Yes! Maxim, you're going . . . to make me come . . . hard!"
"Fuck. Fuck." He swelled even more, until it was too much! "Can't hold on! My cock's about to explode!" The lines of his face grew tight, as if he were in misery. Then his body stilled.
No, no, no! No, keep moving!
His look of misery vanished, ecstasy lighting his face as he began to ejaculate. He threw back his head and roared to the ceiling, his throat working, tendons bowstring-taut. He gave a brutal stab of his hips, then another, bellowing, "It's . . . so . . . fucking . . . good!"
His shattering thrusts hurtled me over the brink. "Yes, yes, YES!" I screamed, my vision blurring. My back bowed, my tits slipping across his sweating chest.
"Blyad ! I feel you!" As my core clenched him, he bit out, "Your greedy pussy's milking my cock. You'll have every last--ahh!--fucking drop out of me!"
Hot. Wet. Bliss.
Continuing on and on and on . . .
Just when I could take no more, he shoved into me one last time. A long satisfied sound rumbled from his chest. His lids slid shut, and he collapsed over me.
I lay boneless beneath him, my limbs splayed. I moaned when his cock twitched inside me; he groaned when my pussy continued to squeeze his shaft.