by S. E. Law
He thinks for a moment.
“I haven’t made a final decision on fate, but we do both have black cats named after Greek gods. And while we may not run in the same social circles, we do work in the same industry. We may use some of the same suppliers or know some of the same people through business dealings. I’ve actually been trying to come up with some new shake flavors and was on the verge of seeking some outside help. Maybe I would have walked into SugarTime and asked you to be a consultant.”
I laugh.
“Ooh, my snickerdoodles or lemon bars would make delicious shakes!”
“See? I’ve been successful because I’ve surrounded myself with the right people and I’ve had a little bit of luck. I was able to start a little food cart because my grandfather raised cattle. I could buy beef at a price no one else could, and my grandfather’s connections in the industry hooked me up with a dairy farmer for my milk and ice cream. The manager of my first store was this guy named Luke whom I trusted to run my restaurant while I expanded. We’re still good friends today, even though he left me to open his own bar.”
I nod with understanding.
“Do you feel like I’m one of the right people you should surround yourself with?”
He grins at me.
“All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you, honey. You’ve become this obsession. I don’t know what would have happened if John hadn’t shown up with our food when he did. I wanted to devour you as soon as you stepped out of that elevator. I value our conversations, but I can’t stop thinking about kissing those rose-colored lips.”
I practically melt then, my pupils dilating.
“Then kiss me. Let’s continue down the path we were on before dinner arrived.”
He shoots me a warning look.
“If we start this, I’m not letting you leave here tonight,” Peter growls. “The things I want to do to you are going to take hours.”
A shiver goes down my spine.
“I don’t have anywhere I need to be.”
I’m reminded again of a panther as Peter pounces forward and crushes his lips to mine. He leans me back against the nearest wall, and in the blink of an eye, Peter is on me like a predator. He’s braced himself with a hand on either side of my head and one of his knees has come up between my legs. His mouth is forceful and demanding. The desire is intoxicating. I’m drunk on the smell and taste of him. I have my own needs and demands though, and I want his shirt off. I want to be able to run my hands over the smooth, bare muscles that caused my body to betray my level of desire on our call the night before.
Our lips part as I yank the t-shirt over his head. He leans back for a moment, bare chest heaving like he just took the stairs from the ground to the penthouse. His eyes are heavy with desire and bore into my soul. My lips are bruised from the force of his mouth on mine, but I want more. I reach for his zipper. He groans but grabs my wrist.
“Not here, sweetheart. Come with me.”
He takes my hand and leads me down a hall that wasn’t part of the earlier tour. I realize he didn’t show me his bedroom, and now I see why. The rich black silk sheets that cover a massive king bed are sprinkled with deep red and purple rose petals. Vases full of the same color buds are set on dressers and night stands. This expansive bedroom has floor to ceiling windows, just like the formal living room downstairs. The New York skyline provides the perfect amount of lighting.
“Do you like it?” Peter asks in a raspy voice still soaked with an unquenched thirst for more of what we started. “I didn’t want to bring you here earlier and have you think I was demanding sex.”
I turn to him and say, “I was hoping we would have sex. You told me days ago that you wanted to make love to me.”
“I thought you didn’t remember that.”
I smile tremulously at him.
“How could I forget? Last night, you knew how much I wanted you. You could see it.”
His expression softens a bit.
“I did know, and it was so arousing. How about now, do you want me as much as last time?” he asks, gently stroking my cheek with the backs of his fingers.
I giggle a bit.
“It appears you’re the one missing clothes, so I think you know the answer to that.”
“Let me change that. I want to see your desire again. But Whitney, I can’t promise I will make love to you. Making love implies something slow and controlled. My control is held in place by a thin strand of spider silk. It’s strong, but you can sever it with the touch of your hand. Once you do that I’m going to take from you until you have nothing left to give.”
His open desire is a little scary, but it’s something I never expected to feel from a man. I’ve had sex with guys I’ve dated and I know it’s been enjoyable for both of us, but Peter has used words like “obsessed,” “possess,” and “take.” I never expected words like that to stir such excitement in me.
Peter is undoing the laces on my blouse and I can’t take my eyes off of his. My hands go to his waist and I wonder if this will be the touch that severs his control. He manages to control himself, so I let my hands explore the carved stone that is his sculpted chest. His skin is hot, almost feverish to the touch.
He has deftly removed all the lacing from my top and I drop my arms to let the garment fall to the floor. I step back until I can sit on the foot of his bed. Peter drops to his knees in front of me and gently pulls my bra straps down over my shoulders. His hands glide over my breasts and send shivers down my back, hardening my nipples as my body displays my desire. Peter’s lips close around the pink crests and give them the same bruising treatment he gave my lips. The pleasure and pain are intertwined and cannot be separated. I don’t want him to stop, so I run my hands up into his hair, holding his mouth there and pushing my chest into it.
I sense his control begin to falter as his hands dig into my hips and fumble to remove my pants. I lift my hips and all the clothing from my waist down is stripped off in one swift movement. His lips release my stinging nipple and it’s both a relief and a loss. He trails gentler kisses down my stomach and stops just below my belly button to glance up at me. The look in his eyes is almost feral.
“Do you want me as much as you did last night?” he growls.
“More,” I breathe and I don’t recognize the husky tone of my voice.
“Show me,” he demands and spreads my legs wide.
I’m still on the edge of the bed, leaning back and supporting myself with my arms. I can’t stop watching him as he kneels in front of me. The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable as he takes in how wet with desire I am. I’m again reminded of the panther.
His mouth traces a line up the inside of my thigh. Watching and anticipating what he will do next is maddening. Will he be gentle or will he be demanding and bruising, like he was with my mouth and my breast? I don’t even know which I want. His tongue tastes me ever so slowly and I suddenly know which I want. I want him to possess me, as he warned.
I run my hand through his hair again and whisper one word because it is all I can manage. “More,” I plead.
He spins into action. His fingertips dig into my thighs and his mouth covers me, sucking and biting, his tongue slipping inside me. He moves my thighs to his shoulders and scrapes his teeth across me to intertwine pleasure and pain again. The ecstasy is climbing higher than I knew it could; I’m panting and whimpering with the intensity of it. I don’t want to reach the peak yet, but I think I need to so I can breathe again. Peter knows what I need as he massages my tiny magic button with his mouth. Then, he reaches up to run his thumb over one raw nipple while thrusting two fingers inside me.
My back arches and I cry out as I hit a peak and waves of pleasure wrack my body. Peter softly kisses the inside of my thigh and rubs his hands over my hips, never taking his eyes off of mine. I suck in air like I’ve been drowning and steady myself with a few deep breaths, but he hasn’t taken nearly enough. I have so much more to give.
I lean forward and kiss h
im fiercely, reaching into his unzipped jeans to feel how hard his desire has made him. The size of him in my hand is intimidating, and bigger than anything I’ve taken inside me before. I stroke up and down, once, twice, and that’s the touch that severs the strand of spider silk that tethered his control.
The alpha male is up and yanking his jeans off before I realize it. I feel his hands under my arms lifting me up to rest on the pillows and then he’s plunging inside of me with that huge, hard rod of steel. I cry out as my body adjusts to accommodate his girth. I’m slippery, so he slides in easily but it’s still so tight. He hesitates only a second before he pushes inside farther. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes are silently asking if I can take all of him. I nod and adjust my hips, angling them upwards for a deeper thrust.
My bruised lips are assaulted by his mouth again as he works like a piston inside of me. Is this what it feels like to be the object of his obsession; to be taken? If it is, that’s what I want. I don’t think it’s possible for him to take until I have nothing left to give. Doesn’t he realize that I’m taking from him too?
Because I’m not only taking unbridled physical pleasure from him, but I’m also taking part of his confidence and making it my own. I’m taking Peter’s strength and using it to find my own.
I deepen our kiss until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. This sparks him to piston harder and faster. He laces his fingers into mine and holds one hand above my head. The other is kneading my breast and teasing my nipple. I can’t keep the moan from escaping my throat into our kiss.
Peter wrenches himself free and I’m momentarily confused until he flips me over onto my hands and knees. I hate that I can’t see his eyes anymore but this new position pushes me out of my comfort zone and into another realm of rapture as he eases inside my drenched pussy. My generous hips and ass are a source of stimulation for this man and that excites me. We fall into a frantic rhythm, Peter thrusting while I rock back into him. He removes one hand from my hips where they have been guiding my movements and reaches down between my legs, massaging as he thrusts.
I realize he means to take from me again. He wants another orgasm from me before he has given me one of his own. I place my hand on top of his between my legs, pacing his massaging fingers while riding this crest together.
He matches the fury of his thrusting with the caress of his fingers and I can’t keep silent.
“Oh, yes, Peter! Take more. Harder and faster, please! I’ll give you more.”
He moans in back of me.
“Whitney, I want all of you. Tell me when you’re ready to fall over the edge.”
“Now, Peter, now!”
The waves of orgasm rock me like a boat in a storm. One of his hands stays between my legs, stroking me through the thunder and lightning. The other comes up between my breasts, to my throat and he pulls me to a sitting position on top of him, my back to his chest. His hand stays on my throat and his mouth comes to my ear. I’m still surfing the waves of my climax but he wants more.
“Ride it, Whitney. How much more can you give?” he whispers in my ear.
I don’t know if he wants me to ride the waves of pleasure or ride the engorged rod he put inside me, but I do both. I slide up and down on his shaft and he never stops stroking me. The waves are gone and explosions have taken their place. They come fast and furious, almost overwhelming me, but I call out his name with each one.
His hand moves from my throat to my hair, brushing it to the side and holding it tightly so my head is bent and neck exposed. I’m still calling out from the chain of explosions he set off in me when I feel the heat of his release bloom inside of me. His teeth latch into the delicate where my neck meets my shoulder, making me moan. I slow my ride but I don’t stop. I tighten my muscles around him, taking every drop of euphoric liquid he has in him. I grind down on him as the contractions from both our climaxes taper off.
His hand releases my curls and moves to gently stroke my breast. The teeth in my shoulder have turned into soft kisses.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear.
“For what?” I laugh, still kneeling in his lap with him inside me. “Why would you be sorry for giving me mind-blowing sex? For making me feel more desired than I thought possible?”
An inarticulate groan comes from his throat.
“I know I got a little rough, sweetheart. I hope I didn’t hurt you at all. That was never my intention.”
I reluctantly slide off of him so I can look him in the face, and he’s so handsome and troubled at once.
“Peter, that wasn’t too rough at all. It was intense. And when I say it was an incredible experience of pain and pleasure intertwined, I don’t mean pain in the regular context. There was nothing unpleasant about it. It was more of a concentrated stimulation that teetered perfectly on the edge of overwhelming.”
The concern and guilt I saw on his face a second ago is replaced by a reassured smile. He leans in and kisses me delicately, as if savoring my sweetness.
“Now you see why I kept my hands in my pockets when you arrived and why I warned you that I would take from you until you had nothing left to give,” he says.
“No, not really,” I smile back. “I’m not as fragile as you seem to think. And who said I have nothing left to give?”
The warning look in his eyes makes shivers go down my spine as I brace myself for another pleasurable assault.
10
Peter
Maybe my concern with being too rough with Whitney is unfounded because she’s absolutely glowing as she sits nude in front of me.
“Is that a challenge for next time?” I tease.
She throws me a saucy smile.
“Maybe. Actually, definitely. I like your idea of taking from me. I feel like I benefitted more from your taking than you did. But I didn’t know we were finished quite yet.”
I smirk at her.
“Well then, I guess we aren’t. I did say I wasn’t letting you leave tonight. Come with me.”
I lead her into my bathroom where there’s a rarely used spa tub. I start filling the giant basin. Candles have already been arranged around the slate ledge surrounding it and I light them to create a romantic mood.
“Ooh, are there bubbles?” she giggles. “I haven’t had a bubble bath since I was a baby!”
I grin but shake my head.
“No, because then I wouldn’t be able to see your luscious curves. I’m going to go get us some wine while the tub fills. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”
She smiles.
“Bring bottled water too, please. I feel like I lost a lot of body fluids,” she calls out as I’m halfway down the stairs.
I chuckle to myself, silently agreeing she probably has lost a lot of fluids from the work-out I just gave her. Whitney’s humor is a breath of fresh air. Most New York women take themselves too seriously.
I practically run to the kitchen before returning to the bathroom to find her submerged in the steaming water. Her curls are piled in a knot on top of her head. Meanwhile, my body has decided ten minutes is enough to rest, and Whitney eyes my quick recovery as it stands at attention.
“Is that for me?” she asks coyly.
I can tell by the line of her gaze that she isn’t talking about the wine or the bottled water, but I feign innocence.
“Which do you want? Alcohol first? Or some H2O?”
She giggles.
“I should probably take the water, but you know that isn’t what I was talking about.”
I hand her the bottle of water, my eyes darkening.
“Oh really? Do you mean this then?” I ask softly, running my hand up and down my length. It pulses gently under her gaze and grows thicker as I speak.
“Yes, but I could watch you do that for a few minutes. You know when you asked me if I wanted to watch last night, I almost said yes. I just wasn’t sure how I would feel about it. Now, I realize how erotic it is. Come sit on the side of the tub for a minute and indulge me.”
I find the idea of her watching hugely arousing. Maybe now I understand the appeal of being a cam girl. I sit on the edge of the tub and put my feet in the water. Then, I lean back on one arm and stroke myself with the other, watching Whitney watch me. She runs her own hands over her silky breasts and spreads her legs in the water, trailing her fingertips up and down her thighs.
This heightens my thrill and I stroke myself faster. This is not how I saw this going, but I like it. Her breathing gets heavier and she moves a hand between her legs. I have a perfect view as she slides a finger inside herself, never taking her eyes off of my hand moving up and down my shaft. I find myself getting closer and closer to a release as she seems totally lost in pleasuring herself while watching me.
I think she realizes how close we both are and raises herself halfway out of the tub, full breasts flushed pink from the heat and rivulets of water dripping from her erect nipples. She is like Aphrodite being borne on sea foam. Her soft, puffy lips close around the tip of my arousal, and I let out a low, desperate growl. As her tongue works magic, licking and tasting me, I find her breasts. I fondle them gently, and they’re soft and supple. I reach for the body wash I bought just for her visit, and squeeze some onto her cleavage and begin to lather her up. The soap is silky and I glide it over pink crests that I’m sure are tender from my treatment of them in the bedroom.
She moans around my cock and the vibrations feel divine. I continue to lather her in circles and her hums of pleasure intensify. I discover she is positioned right over one of the jets of the tub and I turn it on knowing where it will hit. She gasps and raises her hips out of the direct line of the jet. I chuckle before reducing the speed of the spray of water and encourage her to enjoy the pleasure by pressing her hips back down into their former position.
“I thought you had more to give,” I tease her.
She never falters in her tasting and sucking and lowers her hips once more. The hums of pleasure continue and I squeeze more soap into my hands. I spread the suds over her shoulders and back, but never stray too far from her breasts. Her hums of pleasure turn into whimpers and I know she is about to peak again from the tickling of the jets. I reluctantly lift her mouth off of me. I don’t want to finish there, although there will be time for that later.