Raw Power

by Jackie Ashenden

  Another shudder went through her. “What if I fight you?”

  His mouth was near her ear, almost brushing her skin. “Oh, Princess,” he breathed. “You can try.” Electricity crackled everywhere, she could hear it, feel it. Jolting up and down her body, curling around her, making her tremble and shake.

  He knew, didn’t he? Somehow he knew what she wanted, what she’d been fantasizing about all this time. And now he was giving it to her.

  Oh, God, she was so turned on she could barely breathe.

  Callie took a ragged breath, acutely conscious of the hard body she was leaning back against. Of his delicious scent and his mouth so close to her ear, of the minute shift of his hips beneath her so his cock was pressing insistently against her butt.

  “What are you waiting for?” His grip on her upper arms eased, his fingers trailing caressingly down to her elbows and forearms, before closing around her wrists. She almost flinched, expecting pain, because her right wrist still throbbed. But his hold was gentle. “Aren’t you going to show me what you’re made of?”

  She moved restlessly against him, unable to help herself. “I thought . . . y-you were going to talk first.”

  “So you want to hear, huh?” His voice was dark and deep, and slightly raspy. “About how I thought about having you naked in my lap, just like this, with my hand over your mouth, stroking your pussy and not letting you come until I said.”

  Callie shut her eyes, shivering at the eroticism of the words. “D-Did you?”

  “Yeah. In the limo tonight.” Slowly he spread his thighs wider, making her have to spread hers, too, so she didn’t slide right off him. Deepening her awareness of how open she was, how vulnerable. “After you bit my lip.”

  God, he was killing her. “I’m not s-sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to be sorry.” He guided her hands to the armrests. “Hold on and don’t let go.”

  She gripped them like he told her to. “Why? What are you going to—”

  But she didn’t get a chance to finish because then he put one hand over her mouth, pressing lightly but firmly.

  Callie stiffened, adrenaline pushing her heartbeat into overdrive, the ache in her sex pulsing deep and hard.

  “You want to fight me?” His voice was very quiet, his lips brushing her ear. “I suggest you start now.”

  His hand over her mouth, holding her, restraining her while he . . . touched her . . . did whatever he wanted with her . . .

  It thrilled her, made her burn, it was like lightning striking the entire length of her body.

  Fight him.

  Yes. Fuck yes.

  He was so strong, so obdurate, but she moved anyway, arching violently in his arms, lifting her hands from the armrests to grab at his wrists, yanking at his imprisoning fingers.

  It was like trying to move iron. She could feel his muscles flex as she twisted in his arms, could hear his breath catch as her hips ground against his, could smell the sudden spike in male musk. God, he liked this. He liked her fighting him.

  Lightning surged inside her, a bright electric shock of it. So she struggled harder, trying to pull away at the same time as she moved her hips, pressing more insistently against the hard ridge in his lap. Feeling his grip impossibly tighten on her.

  So strong, so fucking strong. She loved it.

  She fought him harder and he laughed, dark and hot in her ear. “You delicious fucking bitch. You love this, don’t you?”

  His hand was still over her mouth so she tried to bite him and he laughed again. Then his teeth closed around her earlobe, giving her a sharp nip that made her shudder and gasp against his hand, pain a wicked edge to the relentless press of desire inside her.

  “Yeah, you want that too, don’t you?” he whispered. “I fucking knew you would.”

  Heat suddenly enveloped one bare breast as he cupped her, his thumb stroking her hardened nipple, teasing it back and forth.

  Her muscles tightened, a pulse of pure sensation racing down between her legs, and she twisted and jerked, her hands trying to pull his away. But not to stop him, never that. Because she wanted to fight and she wasn’t done.

  “You’re strong, Princess,” he whispered, nipping her ear as he brushed his thumb over the aching tip of her breast again and again, circling then squeezing her breast. “But you’re not as strong as I am. You can’t win.”

  But oh, she wanted to try. Except then he pinched her nipple, lightly at first, then harder, the pulse of sensation turning into a streak of fire, making her gasp aloud against his palm. Making her forget that she was supposed to be fighting.

  He did it again and her spine arched, her mouth opening against his fingers, a helpless groan escaping her.

  “Maybe you’d better keep still,” he growled, suddenly sounding a whole lot rougher than he had before. “And stay fucking quiet.”

  She loved that, too, the harsh note in his voice. She was getting him off, wasn’t she? She was driving him as crazy as he was driving her. And now he was punishing her for it, pinching her throbbing nipple over and over, hard enough for it to cross the line into pain but not enough for it to stop being pleasure.

  But she wasn’t done, no, not by a long shot.

  Twisting yet again in his grip, she ground her ass against his cock, then she put her palms flat on the iron of his thighs and dug her fingers into the denim, squeezing him the way he was squeezing her.

  He let out a sharp breath, a shudder going through him, and she reveled in it, that she could do this to him, make him shake the way she was shaking. “You think you can push me?” he said raggedly. “Think again.”

  The hand over her mouth firmed, holding her tighter as his other hand released her aching breast and moved down, trailing over her stomach, making all her muscles tense as his fingertips brushed the sensitive skin just above the cluster of curls between her thighs.

  She writhed harder, opening her mouth to lick his palm. He tasted all salty and delicious so she did it again.

  He made a low, guttural noise in his throat, the fingers resting on her stomach moving farther down, tangling in her curls. Then he gave them a tug, sending small, exquisite prickles of pain arrowing through her.

  “What did I say?” His lips brushed against her neck, nipping her. “You can’t win, remember?”

  But she ignored him, licking his palm, twisting and moving. Writhing and arching. Digging her fingers into the rock-hard muscles of his thighs. Working the soft flesh of her butt against the zipper of his jeans.

  “Fuck.”

  The raw note in his voice hit her like a pure aphrodisiac, making her struggle harder, angling her head to try to lick in between his fingers, bite them, bite his palm, get more of his taste in her mouth.

  This was her power and she wanted to explore it, find out where her boundaries lay. Because it was glorious that she could make this strong, dangerous, in-control man sound so desperate. Intoxicating, making her feel drunk and dizzy and full of adrenaline.

  How far could she push him? How far could she go?

  Except maybe he’d read her mind again, because before she could do anything, he’d shoved his hand through the tangle of curls between her thighs, finding her slick flesh. He didn’t tease her like he’d teased her nipple, his fingers going straight to her clit and applying firm pressure instead, sending a current of the most intense, electric pleasure through her.

  She jerked against him, an agonized moan tearing from her throat. Even when she touched herself sometimes, at night when she was lonely and couldn’t sleep, it had never felt like this.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” he murmured hoarsely. “This is what you like, isn’t it? My fingers on your clit?” He began to stroke her, his fingers slicking over the tiny cluster of nerves, stroking in firm circles, over and over. “You’re dirty, aren’t you, Princess? You’re such a dirty little girl.”

  The stark words and the touch made a groan vibrate in her throat, made the pleasure acute. It began to twist and coil in on itse
lf, getting tighter, contracting into a small, vicious knot of sensation between her thighs.

  But she still wasn’t ready to let him win yet, so she bucked against him, her lips peeling back, trying to bite the delicious, salty flesh that covered her mouth as she ground her hips down on his lap.

  He gave another of those low laughs, full of darkness and heat. “You’re trying so hard. But I’m not letting you go. You’re mine now, understand me? And I’m keeping you.”

  The words incited her even further, making her fight against the arms that held her so tightly, using her body and her teeth. Straining against him, twisting and grinding in his lap, relishing each catch in his breath, each guttural curse.

  But then he spread his thighs wider so she had to do the same, until she was even more open than she had been before, making the struggle tougher. Then the hand over her mouth pressed down until her head was resting on his shoulder, her body stretched out on his, and he slid one finger deep into her.

  Lightning flashed behind her eyes, the shock of it holding her still for a second. He didn’t wait for her to adjust, a second finger sliding in, making her groan. Jesus, the feeling was incredible.

  She panted, whispering his name against his palm, and when he began to move his fingers, sliding them in and out of her pussy, she quivered, the slick, gliding sensation white-hot.

  He nipped her earlobe again, the pain a bright spark, blooming into pleasure as his thumb found her clit, stroking as he separated his fingers, stretching her gently.

  She closed her eyes, moaning against his palm, forgetting to fight, forgetting everything as the hard knot inside her wound tighter and tighter. An unbearable ache.

  Everything inside her began to tremble, her body a continent trying to shake itself apart.

  Abruptly Jack gave a low, savage curse and his fingers disappeared from between her thighs, his hand dropping from her mouth. And she was being pushed forward, his hand hard on the back of her neck, holding her bent over with that incredible strength of his.

  She was gasping, the ache between her thighs unbearable. Had she gone too far? Had she actually fought him and won?

  Intense disappointment made her stomach drop away, and she opened her mouth to speak, to say something that would bring him back. But then she heard his zipper and the crackle of foil, the ragged sound of his breathing.

  Oh, she hadn’t won. Not at all.

  She tried to sit up, but his hand on the back of her neck was like iron, keeping her bent over, and it stayed there as he snaked his free arm around her waist, hauling her back against him. His knees spread, holding her open, and she felt something hot and hard press against the slick flesh of her pussy, gliding through her folds, hitting her clit, sending white-hot sparks of electricity through her.

  Her breathing was wild, every part of her drawn tight.

  The hand on her neck moved, sliding between her thighs, spreading her open, the head of his cock a firm, relentless pressure against her entrance.

  He gave her no time to brace herself or to prepare. The only warning she got was his arm tightening around her waist, holding her down as he gave a short, savage thrust, driving his cock up inside her, impaling her.

  Callie went rigid, biting hard on her lip to stifle the harsh cry that escaped her. He felt huge inside her, like she was stretched impossibly, and it hurt, too. It also felt like she was suffocating, like there wasn’t enough room for him and the air in her lungs as well.

  He began to slide out of her before pushing back in, hard, deep thrusts that had her gasping for breath and shifting on him, trying to find some relief from the stretch and the burn. But there was none to be had. He held her down on him, making it impossible for her to get away.

  But then she didn’t want to get away, because somehow the desperate, suffocating feeling was easing and she had room and space for the wild heat to return, the deep pulse of pleasure echoing through her.

  And soon it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

  “Jack.” His name escaped in a ragged rush, her hand still on his thighs beneath her, her nails digging into the denim. “Jack . . . please . . .”

  The iron bar of his arm held her down, making her take each hard, vicious thrust, and his breathing was harsh in her ear, every flex of his hips making him grunt with the force of it.

  She was shaking again, both from the intensity of his thrusts and the pleasure, the spiraling, impossible pleasure. It gripped her, choked her, narrowing her reality down to the feel of his cock inside her and the raging heat of his body underneath her.

  She tried to fight again, but he was holding her so tightly she couldn’t. She was being crushed between the relentless force of his cock driving up into her and the intensity of the pleasure. Ground into dust.

  She whispered his name again, desperate, pleading for relief, begging for it. Then his hand shot out and pulled one of hers off his thigh and drew it down between her own, pressing her fingers against her achingly sensitive clit.

  The touch was electric, exploding the tight knot of sensation and she went rigid, the beginnings of a wild cry tearing from her throat. But then his hand was over her mouth again, muffling the sound as it escaped, letting her scream helplessly against his palm as the orgasm ripped her apart.

  CHAPTER 11

  He could feel the force of her scream against his palm, her delicious, curvy little body going rigid against him as she came. Her pussy was clamping down hard on his cock, pulsing around him, and it was all he could do not to come himself.

  He’d thought his years in the military had tested his self-discipline, but apparently, that was nothing in comparison to Callie Hawthorne’s tight pussy.

  Two years since he’d been inside a woman yet he was pretty fucking sure it hadn’t felt like this. It surely hadn’t been this hot and he definitely hadn’t felt this desperate. He wouldn’t have lost it so completely that he’d ripped open a condom packet with his teeth, needing to get inside her before he embarrassed himself. Fucking her hard in a private jet, thousands of feet in the air.

  What the hell was happening to him?

  You know. It’s her.

  It probably was. Which meant he shouldn’t have kissed her. Certainly, he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing now to her. But she’d made it clear what she’d wanted, asking him directly and with absolute certainty, all that brilliant heat in her eyes. And he just . . . hadn’t had the strength to refuse.

  It had been too long and he’d wanted her the minute he’d set eyes on her.

  But right now he couldn’t think. He was balls deep inside her and he wanted to come so bad it was almost painful. She’d been pushing him all this time and he’d loved every dirty second of it. But now it was his turn to push her. He wanted to make her come a couple more times, break her just a little bit, and then and only then would he let himself come too.

  And Christ, how he’d loved her fighting him. Loved how strong she was too, how she could push him to the edge and almost over it. He shouldn’t like it, knew it made him a sick fuck, especially given what had happened to Molly, but the strength in Callie drew out the dark part of himself he tried so hard to keep locked away. The part that demanded the fight. And then the surrender.

  The part that wanted everything she had to give.

  She wasn’t fighting him now, though, her body trembling in his lap. And he knew he should leave her alone, chase his own orgasm and end this. But he didn’t. It wasn’t enough.

  He pulled her hand from between her legs, guiding it to her mouth. “Suck,” he ordered harshly. “Taste yourself. Taste how hard I made you come.”

  She moaned, her lips parting, letting him slide her wet fingers between them. Her lashes fluttered, golden and glinting, the same color as the cloud of hair cascading all over his chest and shoulders.

  Her pussy squeezed hard around his cock at the same time as she did as she was told, sucking on her fingers, and he gritted his teeth, holding himself still. Moving was going to end this and he d
idn’t want to be done, not yet.

  Taking her hand away from her mouth, he guided it back down between her thighs again, pressing her fingers against her own soft, wet flesh. Then lower, to where he was impaling her.

  “Jack . . . I don’t think I can.” She shuddered as he kept his fingers over hers, pressing hard. “Not . . . a-again.”

  “You can.” Because she would. There was steel inside her. “You will.”

  He made her stroke herself, guiding her fingers to circle around where his flesh stretched hers, then up lightly, over her clit. Then he pressed down firmly enough that she gasped in agonized pleasure and shuddered, her hips lifting.

  Only then did he begin to move again, keeping his hand over hers, short, shallow thrusts to tease her and to stop him from losing it completely. And sure enough, she began to make soft, helpless noises so he began to fuck her harder, giving her enough friction to stoke her pleasure but not enough to make it unbearable for him.

  It was still pretty fucking unbearable, though.

  Basic training had nothing on this.

  But he wasn’t going to give in so he kept her touching herself, kept moving inside her until she gave another hoarse cry, coming apart in his arms for the second time. And if he hadn’t been celibate for two years, he might have tried breaking her a third.

  Yet he could feel himself losing it, could feel his control slipping slowly through his fingers, and that wasn’t allowed to happen, not with her. So he let her hand go and grabbed the back of her neck, bending her forward and tilting her hips. Then he began to thrust up, hard and deep, driving himself into her, the vicious twist of pleasure making him snarl.

  Fuck, this was insane. This was so good.

  And as if she knew exactly what to do to make it even better, she began to shove herself back onto him, taking him, fucking him as hard as he was fucking her. Intensifying all the sensations until he felt wild and savage, his breathing hoarse and ragged.