by Claire Kent
Her tenderness appeared to distract him momentarily, and his hand relaxed on her wrists as he leaned down to kiss her softly. But when she tried to pull her hands away, he tightened his grip.
“Are you going to trap my hands the whole time?” she asked, feeling vulnerable, which made her slightly anxious and strangely excited at the same time.
His eyes raked over her naked body stretched beneath him. “I’ll let you go if you promise to be good.”
“I’m always good.” She was. She’d been a good girl all her life.
“In this case, being good means letting me do what I want with you.”
Her lips parted and her pussy clenched at his textured voice. At what he’d said.
He met her eyes with an expression that looked unexpectedly significant. “Do you trust me?”
“Y—yes.”
“Baby, do you really trust me?” He leaned a little closer, and she was suddenly terrified that he could see into her soul.
“Yes. I do.” It was the truth, and there was no way she couldn’t admit it.
“You’ll trust me in this?”
She nodded, her voice catching in her throat.
His expression changed, but her vision was slightly blurred from the intensity of her emotions and arousal, so she couldn’t identify the nature of the shift. But he released her wrists and adjusted so he wasn’t trapping her so completely.
She moved her arms so they were more comfortable, but she remained stretched out beneath him, exposed to his view, his touch.
He leaned down to kiss her before trailing his lips down her body, teasing and fondling as he went. Soon, she was squirming and struggling not to grab his head and force him to move faster and give her some relief.
Finally, he straightened up and gazed down at her with a possessive smile.
“What is that smile for?” she asked, although she had a feeling she knew.
“Now you’re exactly in the shape I want you,” he murmured thickly, erotically.
“Naked?”
“Hot and wet and ready for me.”
He was absolutely right, but she wasn’t in the habit of admitting such a thing. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He cocked an eyebrow and trailed one finger from her lips down her neck, along the curves of her breasts, and then down her belly to her groin. The light touch was sensual torture, and she couldn’t keep her hips still as he got lower.
Then he slid off her panties and finally used his finger to part her intimate folds and expose her to his view. The air against her arousal made her gasp.
“Definitely hot and wet,” he said with another smile. He pressed his finger lightly against her clit before sliding it away.
She whimpered. “Oh, God, Owen, please.”
“So you are ready for me?”
“Yes.” She arched up when he stroked her very lightly again. “Please.”
Finally, he lined his erect cock up at her entrance. “That’s what I thought. Now. I believe I have a challenge to fulfill.”
“Good luck,” she mumbled, mostly because she felt like she hadn’t been putting up a very good defense. She gasped in pleasure as he started pushing inside her. She felt her wet pussy cling and give way to the width and length of him, and she bent her legs up until her knees were high on either side of his hips. “You’re definitely going to need it.”
His face was tense and strained as he visibly tried to control whatever his need was—his need to thrust, to let go, to fall toward his own release.
She made herself hold still, because she knew he needed her to and because she did trust him—even though she hadn’t realized it to this extent before.
After a minute, Owen was breathing evenly again, and he lowered himself over her body even more, one forearm resting beside her head and shoulder and his fingers occasionally playing with her brown hair. He tangled the fingers of his other hand into her hand, which was resting near her head, her arm bent up, and she tightened her fingers around his, holding his hand in an unexpectedly tender gesture.
When she felt his lower body come down on her pelvis, Amy sighed and pulled her knees up toward her chest. With little trouble, she positioned her legs so that her calves pushed against the outside of his upper thighs and her heels just below his butt.
He pulled back slowly and thrust the first time, and Amy whimpered with pleasure in response. Her clit was rubbing against his pubic bone, and his cock penetrated her at exactly the right depth. Not deep enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to make her feel exquisitely tight and full.
“That’s perfect,” she whispered, gazing up into his hot eyes. Her face twisted as he thrust again. “Perfect.”
He always seemed to be really into their lovemaking, and often he was fast and hard and urgent. But today—although his eyes were intense, almost wild—his motion was steady and leisurely. Amy rocked beneath him, trying to match his tempo. But as the pressure swelled up beneath her belly, the pumping of her hips became faster and more erratic.
“Soon,” she gasped, struggling to free her hand from his so she could claw at his shoulder. “God, Owen, soon.” When he wouldn’t release her hand, she gave up trying. Let him pin her down with his hand and the weight of his body. Let him give her this pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, love. You’re getting so tight. Tell me when.”
Her climax rising startlingly fast, Amy groaned and tossed her head. “Soon,” she breathed again. “Coming. God!” His thrusting never wavered in speed or depth and, combined with the way his body was rubbing against her clit with every thrust, it took her right up to the edge.
About to fall over into release, Amy arched up and cried softly, “Yeah. Now, now!”
It happened. Just not what she wanted to happen.
At her breathless cry, Owen froze completely and then withdrew until his cock was barely inside her.
Amy wailed, “Owen!”
He was sweating and breathless, but he watched her with fiery possessiveness. “What?”
“I was coming.” She squirmed beneath him, trying to get friction in any way she could. But he had withdrawn too far and she couldn’t get close enough to rub against him. “I was almost there. What the hell are you doing?”
“Fulfilling the challenge,” he answered succinctly, tightening his fingers around hers.
“I don’t think the challenge was supposed to involve being mean.”
He leaned down to kiss her, and the kiss was soft and sweet enough that it relaxed her a little. “Trust me. I’m not just being mean. It will be worth it. I promise.”
She snarled but didn’t argue. She did trust him, and she intended to be a good sport. That is, until she was convinced he was just being nasty, and then she’d start being nasty back.
After another moment, he penetrated her fully again, lowering his weight back over hers, renewing the friction on her clit as he started moving his hips.
Amy moaned hoarsely as Owen began to thrust, trying to regain the momentum she had lost. She squeezed his hips between her thighs and gasped, “Damn it, Owen. Now I have to start over.”
He’d straightened his body some, so his eyes could run over her body, from her face to her jiggling breasts. “I know. I’m sorry, baby.”
She made a few helpless mews of frustration as she felt her orgasm rising again at her center. “You don’t look sorry. You look like you‘re enjoying my misery.” On principle, she fought a little more against the grip on her hand, but she was beginning to feel a kind of unexpected thrill at being completely at his mercy.
And the truth was—she wasn’t actually miserable.
Although she was starting to lose the circulation in her fingers.
She supposed she should be impressed that Owen managed to scowl despite the situation. As he pumped into her steadily, he rasped, “You think this is easy?” He stifled a groan when Amy squeezed him hard with both her thighs and her inner muscles. “Fuck, Amy, you feel incredible.”
Well, that was alway
s nice to hear, and she wasn’t too far gone to not feel a little mushy. But the mushiness quickly transformed into impatience as he lowered more of his weight against her pelvis, deepening the stimulation on her clit.
She bucked up involuntarily, although he was pressing her down too hard for her to get very high. “Oh, yeah. Like that.” She pumped her hips, feeling the sensations begin to crest once more. “Owen, please!”
With his jaw clenched so tightly she could see the muscles in his cheeks quiver, Owen sustained the steady, luscious rhythm. “Coming?” he asked in strangled voice.
She tried to arch beneath him, stretching the line of her torso out even more. Her nipples were chafing against his chest, and her hips were thrashing desperately. “Oh, yeah,” she cried, her voice much louder than usual. “Oh, yeah!”
And then—damn it!—he withdrew again, halting her orgasm right at the last second.
He didn’t appear to be enjoying it either. He was practically wheezing from the effort it took to control himself. But Amy was in far worse shape than he was. She’d been so close to coming. So exquisitely close.
And now she wasn’t.
“Fuck you, Owen!” she raged, through clenched teeth, shuddering violently and pumping her pelvis up in a futile attempt to find release. “Mean, mean, and cruel.” It wasn’t her cleverest of insults, but her mind was barely functioning.
He lowered his face until it was burrowed against her neck. “It’ll be good,” he promised again, his voice muffled by her damp skin. “I promise, love, it will be good.”
“But why all the torture? You’re supposed to give me seven orgasms but you won’t even give me one.”
“I will,” he murmured, pressing little kisses now up and down her throat. “I will. This will make it easier later. Trust me.”
The sweet kisses were almost as powerful as the sensation of his cock moving again inside her. Amy thought she would melt as he continued to nibble a line up her jaw and toward the side of her mouth. “Owen, please,” she begged, as the pleasure started building more quickly this time. “Please now. I want to come.”
His face hovering just above hers, he met her eyes and murmured again, “Trust me.”
She did. She trusted him in this. Wanted to trust him in everything. Just didn’t know if he wanted that kind of trust. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah.”
He kissed her, and it was wet and clumsy on both sides, but it left Amy overwhelmed by more than just physical pleasure. When he pulled away, he accelerated his tempo, driving his cock into her with faster, shorter strokes.
Tossing her head back and forth on the pillow, she squeezed his hand, which she still held. “God, Owen, yeah. Please, this time.” She writhed between his body and the mattress, jolts of pleasure coalescing into one powerful force. Her breasts and clit were rubbing against his hard body, and her thighs were once again squeezing desperately around his hips. She cried out loudly. Wasn’t even embarrassed.
They were rocking the whole bed, banging the headboard against the wall, and Amy was so close—just couldn’t quite get there. Practically sobbing, she bucked up with frantic jerks of her pelvis, sweating collecting in the hollow of her neck and across her belly.
“Look at me, baby,” Owen said.
She couldn’t immediately, she was so overwhelmed.
“Amy, love, look at me.” His voice was low but held unmistakable authority.
She met his eyes and then couldn’t look away, trapped by the fire, the need, the passion in his expression.
The shift in focus left all the intense sensations out of her control. And, once out of her control, they took on a life of their own. And a few more thrusts pushed her over the edge at last.
“Come now, love.”
She did.
She howled with it—there was no other word. It swept up from her center and overtook her body completely. All the pressure that had built up from the previous, half-finished orgasms combined and imploded with this one, leaving her helpless in the wake of it.
She knew Owen was watching her, but she couldn’t be self-conscious. She was barely conscious of anything but the waves of sensation washing over her. It went on for a long time, her inner muscles clamping down brutally around Owen’s hard cock.
Until she became conscious of one other thing. Owen was swearing under his breath, his face contorted with what looked like agony. His body had frozen completely still, and it was only her rocking body—riding him from below—that extended the long duration of the contractions.
Finally, the peak passed, and she gasped desperately as she started to come down, her body beginning to relax—contented, pleased, and exhausted.
Halfway through her orgasm, Owen had squeezed his eyes shut, but he opened them again as she fell limp onto the mattress.
“Wow!” she gasped. “It was worth it. That might be the best I’ve ever had.”
She thought he wanted to look pleased with himself. But he mostly just looked like he’d been through a war.
When her muscles had unclenched enough, he pulled out of her, his cock still hard and slick from her fluids. Instead of pulling her into a tight embrace and then collapsing beside her as he usually did, he cupped her groin with his palm. He wasn’t in direct contact with her clit but he started applying pressure with the heel of his hand.
“Really going to try for more?” she inquired weakly, still far too pleased with the world to mind his arrogance.
“You didn’t think I’d give up after one, did you?” His eyebrows elevated just a little, but his breathing was erratic and sweat was pouring down the sides of his face.
Poor thing. He’d done really well. And he wasn‘t yet admitting defeat. She wanted to swallow him whole—to pull him inside her and never let him go. But what she said was, “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She wasn’t worried. In fact, she was almost perfectly happy. Owen clearly wanted her so much that he could barely control himself. She had no doubts, especially now, that she would win the wager. She’d just had the best orgasm of her life. And Owen was looking at her with that tender possessiveness she so loved and so little understood.
And he was going to try for another.
In fact, she was so lost in her pleasant haze that she failed to notice when Owen reached over and opened the drawer to the nightstand.
She only noticed when he pulled something out and turned it on.
She’d had it for quite a while, but didn’t use it much anymore, since Owen more than satisfied her. She wasn’t even sure how he’d known it was there.
But the sight and sound of the little device immediately snapped her out of her dazed languor. It actually made her a little bit nervous.
“Hey, you big cheater! I never said you could use a vibrator.”
Two, Three, and Four
Owen gave her an arrogant look. “You never said I couldn’t use a vibrator.”
Amy’s jaw fell open. She was feeling warm and sated and wasn’t really in the psychological state to do much arguing. She’d never come more than twice with a vibrator anyway, so she didn’t think this would end up being the thing to determine the victory, but it wouldn’t do to let Owen have his way too easily. “These orgasms are supposed to be from you—not from some little mechanical device.”
He turned off the vibrator when he saw she was going to put up a fight. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be the one making you come.” He pushed against her sensitive clit with the heel of his hand. “But my hand might get tired if I have to rely only on it for all seven orgasms.”
“You have to use your cock.” She gazed down at that particular body part as she spoke. It was still hard and coated with her fluids. It wasn’t particularly beautiful—no cock she’d ever seen was—but she loved how it looked, how it felt, what it signified when it was erect. Loved the sight of it now, concrete evidence of their earlier lovemaking.
“I will,” he murmured, holding her by the shoulders and pulling her up into a sitting position.
“The vibrator will just be back up.”
In spite of herself, Amy chuckled at this. Then leaned over and kissed him with slow tenderness. She loved how stubborn he was—how he’d never back down from a fight—even though it meant he would never back down from her.
So much of their relationship had been made up of this playful competitiveness, even from the first day they met in the bookstore, when neither one would break the pretense of indifference, when they were obviously interested in each other.
That was all she could hope for in a casual relationship like this—to be pleased and challenged and entertained.
Not loved.
She rubbed her breasts against his chest as she explored the warm depths of his mouth with her tongue. He moaned against her lips and was suddenly more urgent, squeezing her tightly and sinking his fingers into the flesh of her ass.
Laughing softly as she pulled away from the kiss, she said, “Are you sure you’re going to be able to hold out long enough?” She reached down and stroked his erection. “What about your own happy ending?”
He shifted until he was kneeling on the bed and started to rearrange her body. Before he finished speaking, he had turned her over and positioned her on her hands and knees in front of him. “My happy ending isn’t about coming.” His fingers fondled deeper in the space between her legs, where she was still wet and aroused from his continued, gentle massage of her clit.
She wiggled her bottom at the intensity of the stimulation, but more intense were the growing feelings in her chest. In her heart. “What is your happy ending?” she whispered, staying in the position he’d placed her but looking at him over her shoulder.
His suddenly soft eyes seemed to be speaking the answer. Her, they were saying. She was his happy ending.
Amy trembled, although she was overly warm, and felt goosebumps break out all over her flushed skin. She wasn’t sure which was more overwhelming—her sappiness or her renewed desire, growing stronger at the knowledge that he was about to take her from behind.
Owen positioned himself behind her, lining his cock up with a hand that she couldn’t help noticing shook a little. “My happy ending is winning,” he said dryly.