by BETH KERY
“You,” she whispered. “The book. Both at once.”
He snarled, shifting his cock and finding her channel.
“And now?” he demanded.
“You. Just you. Please,” she gasped. Her hands tightened reflexively on her wrists. Her skin would be reddened there when she finally let go, she was exerting so much pressure. Her willingness to follow his instructions to restrain herself, even when she appeared to want to let go, pleased him enormously. He looked up and watched her flushed face, wanting to see every detail of her reaction while he entered her for the first time. He thrust his hips, her gasp echoing in his head.
“God, you’re tight,” he muttered, incredulous on many levels, but mostly because her narrow channel now clutched his cockhead. He couldn’t uncross his eyes for a second, it felt so good. “Tilt your hips back, beautiful,” he managed to say through a tight throat. She rolled her hips, her thighs coming off the mattress a few inches, granting him a better angle. He flexed his hips and a groan rattled his throat. He thrust again and grunted in pleasure. She stared up at him with huge eyes, looking stunned.
“Don’t look at me like that, Eleanor,” he chastised, pushing his cock in her another inch higher. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
She nodded and made a high-pitched, shaky sound.
“Good. Then try to relax. Lift your legs a little higher.” He surprised himself by sounding calm enough. The edges of his eyesight were growing blurred. She existed at the center of his vision, a golden, flushed goddess. He was determined to exist at the very center of her. He watched, panting, while she lifted her boots higher off the mattress. Her flesh yielded some. A rough groan vibrated his throat as he slid farther into her. He found himself grabbing at one of those sexy boots, urging her more stringently. He sawed his cock several inches in and out of her. God, it felt good. She grit her teeth and clamped her eyelids shut. “If you want me inside, tell me, Eleanor.”
A high-pitched moan escaped her throat.
“Open your eyes,” he said sharply. “Look at me.”
She opened heavy eyelids and focused on him with apparent effort. Her body and face looked so strained, he was afraid he was hurting her. But he was on the brink.
“Say it,” he commanded. His entire world narrowed down to her mouth.
“I’m going to come.”
It hadn’t been what he’d expected she’d say. Not by a long shot. It sent him straight into the fire.
“Then come, you beautiful girl,” he grated out. He thrust, feeling initial resistance. Then her flesh melted around him. He pierced the hot core of her. He grabbed her other boot, holding her steady, while he ground his balls against her outer sex, giving her the pressure she needed to ignite.
She cried out, her eyes going wide. He felt her heat rush around him.
And then . . . well, he wasn’t sure what happened there for a moment.
The next thing he knew, he was fucking her in short, hard strokes while she screamed, feeling her spasms of orgasm vibrating into his driving cock. His brain, body and cock crackled with energy. It was like running a race in heaven: a golden, sweet, agonizing bliss as every fiber of his being strained for the finish line.
—
Open your eyes. Look at me.
She’d been on the brink when he’d said it.
She’d never been so filled. It didn’t hurt, having his large, swollen cock in her body. It was slightly uncomfortable, though, in addition to being intensely arousing. The indirect pressure on her clit from the thick, piercing shaft was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
She opened her eyes, her trembling amplifying when she saw him. He was still tanned from some recent travel destination, his skin a beautiful golden brown color. She’d been dazed into near-muteness watching him undress earlier, mesmerized by the ridged tautness of his abdomen, the powerful muscles of his chest and shoulders, the bulging, rock-hard biceps. His cock was straight and thick, the crown flushed and defined. Succulent. He was so erect, she couldn’t help but feel proud he found her so arousing . . . even if she was a little intimidated as well.
Presently, he looked rigid and tense as he pierced her. She could see every defined muscle in his beautiful body. It was like he was straining against an invisible cord. His eyes blazed. He looked so powerful staring down at her. He held one of her booted legs in his hand, keeping her open to his possession.
“Say it,” he insisted, but Eleanor had no idea what he wanted her to say. Her brain was flooded with sensation.
“I’m going to come,” she said stupidly, feeling the wave of pleasure about to crash down on her.
“Then come, you beautiful girl,” he snarled.
His voice thundering in her head, she shuddered. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. As if through a layer of thick insulation, she heard his ominous growl. And suddenly, she shook from more than climax.
A furor barraged her, rattling her consciousness. She experienced a mixed sense of heady bliss combined with an uncomfortable pressure for a muddled moment. His cock was large, and he rode her like he’d reached his limit. That excited her. A lot. She wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. But for a moment, it was too much. She didn’t black out, but perception became a swirling, pounding chaos.
She came back to full awareness at the feeling of him thrusting into her with firm, short strokes, his pelvis smacking against her outer sex in an arousing, staccato rhythm. She heaved a ragged breath and focused on his face.
Trey.
He’d rolled back her pelvis and was firmly planted between her thighs, his hips moving in a jaw-dropping liquid glide, his cock moving like a piston in her pussy. He knew how to fuck. He held her booted legs wide, his chest and arm muscles flexed hard. God help her, he looked so powerful in that moment, so hard. So determined.
“You feel like heaven,” he rasped from between rigid lips.
“So do you,” she managed.
“Don’t let go of your wrists,” he said sharply, never hesitating in his smooth, forceful pump. She blinked dazedly. She’d nearly forgotten he’d told her to hold her arms over her head. Watching him just now in her disoriented, postorgasmic state, all she’d wanted to do was touch him. She’d started to let go. With his insistence that she hold her wrists above her head, all she could do was watch him helplessly as he fucked her . . . as he took his pleasure. Because that’s definitely what he was doing. She’d fantasized incessantly about what it would be like to be with him.
But she hadn’t prepared herself to be owned by him.
She gripped her wrists tighter. Her hips began to move in a counter rhythm to his. It felt sinfully good. A light sheen of perspiration gleamed on his ridged torso. His nostrils flared slightly as he stared down at her. The tempo of their slapping bodies increased in her ears.
“You act like you want it good and hard,” he said. “But can you really take it, Eleanor?”
“I can take it,” she told him from between clenched teeth.
“Open that beautiful mouth. It’s tortured me long enough,” he ordered.
She parted her lips, confused by his words, but excited by his intensity.
He fell down over her, his tongue plunging into her mouth. His taste overwhelmed her. He did, because at the same moment he kissed her savagely, he thrust harder inside her . . . longer, fucking her from tip to balls. She screamed into his mouth; the pressure was mind-blowing. He rolled her hips back farther with his grip on her calves. Her feet were now parallel to her head. She was at his mercy.
The headboard began to bang against the wall stridently with his thrusts. She struggled for release from his kiss, and yet she’d never craved anything more. Her lungs burned. Her clit sizzled. At this ruthless angle, she could perfectly feel the swollen head of his cock carving into her, the delineated head rubbing previously untouched flesh. There was only one
thing she could do.
She shuddered in orgasm again.
He ripped his mouth from hers, grimacing.
“Fuck yeah. I can feel you coming,” he grated out.
Eleanor forced her eyelids open a slit, desperate to see him despite her short-circuiting brain and body. “Oh God.”
His cock jerked inside her. He withdrew and then pounded forcefully into her, his face clenching tight in pleasure. He growled, the sound ominous. Wonderful. His muscles rippled as he finally tore through his restraint.
He roared in release.
Their stares held for a pleasure-infused moment, his blue eyes seeming to shoot fire at her. Then he clamped his eyelids shut, his face pulling tight in pleasure as he continued to thrust.
As the heart-pounding seconds passed, Eleanor opened her eyes wider, staring with stark wonder at the image of Trey Riordan finding bliss in her body.
The moment was the one she’d been dreaming about for over a year now. It’d been everything she’d anticipated and schemed for.
It’d been more. Much more.
He was.
She didn’t want it to end. One time with him definitely wasn’t enough.
He released her legs and fell down over her, bracing his upper body. His rib cage heaved in and out as he panted from his strenuous effort. His head was lowered, his eyes shut tight as he recovered from a blast of pleasure.
Eleanor unclasped her wrists. He’d said she only had to remain that way until they were done, after all. Slowly, she lowered her hands and glided them across his beautiful shoulders, his heaving ribs and down over his narrow hips and the tops of his smooth, hard ass. He was so lean and hard. She felt power emanating from every inch of him. She soothed his agitated state with her fingertips. She absorbed the incredible feeling of him with wonder.
Knowing he was only hers to touch for a short, undefined period of time, her caresses were nothing short of worship.
Each frantic, eager touch may have been her last.
SEVEN
The feeling of Eleanor caressing him slowly penetrated his short-circuited brain. Her hands struck him as sweet and soothing, like they were cooling the fire in his crackling nerves. But there was something else in her touch, an urgency he didn’t understand.
He pried open his eyelids and realized his forehead was planted in the pillow next to Eleanor’s. His cock was still embedded deep in her. He needed to withdraw. Her flesh quickened around him. She was so warm. So sweet. He groaned as reanimated pleasure rippled through his body. Instead of withdrawing, he flexed and groaned again, planting himself deep inside her once more. Her arms surrounded his head, hugging him against her. Had she too experienced that stab of desire to fuse even more than they already were?
It didn’t matter. He had to withdraw or risk spilling in her. He did so, grunting in displeasure at the harsh deprivation of her body.
“Give me a second, okay?” He leaned down and kissed her parted lips. He’d only meant it to be a quick peck before he rose, but her lips were so warm. Delectable. Responsive. It took him a minute to realize he was kissing her wholesale, and was only growing hungrier by the second.
He sealed their kiss, growling in dissatisfaction, although he couldn’t exactly say what he was displeased about. He rolled off the bed. Instead of walking to the suite’s bathroom, he walked out of the room and disposed of the condom in the powder room down the hall. The air felt cool against his perspiration-damp skin when he walked out into the open space of the living room.
He’d worked up quite a thirst. He’d been honing his self-discipline lately, forcing himself to practice his guitar, submitting his body to the most strenuous exercise of his life, beating his brain into submission with his tai chi. But none of that had tested him more than restraining himself with Eleanor just now. And despite expending every ounce of self-discipline he owned, he’d still taken her like a madman. He felt a little guilty about that, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to do it again.
And again.
He entered his kitchen, pausing when he glanced out the window. He heard Eleanor’s voice in his head.
All those times I saw you naked . . .
It was something he did with relative frequency, to be honest: walk around naked, sleep naked, even check his e-mail naked once in a while. He wasn’t a nudist, but he was pretty insouciant about what he wore or did within the confines of his own home. He hadn’t thought about the condo next door much, but when he had, he’d always assumed it was empty. It was usually dark, wasn’t it?
Yes. He peered into the adjacent high-rise, but only saw darkness.
He didn’t like the idea of someone spying on him when he thought he was alone or when he was with a lover. Few would like it. But when Eleanor had made her confession about looking inside to his private world, there’d been something else mixed up with his annoyance. Her honesty had turned him on. And he supposed it was excitement at the idea of a beautiful woman watching him and becoming aroused. That must be what had tempered his anger.
Although, when he tried to imagine other women he knew confessing the same thing, he didn’t experience quite the same reaction.
There was something about her looking into his world with those big, expressive eyes that excited him.
She was messing with his ideas of what he found arousing, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wanted control sexually. He wanted his lovers to experience intense excitement and pleasure, but he wanted to be the one to sharpen it to a fine edge and then finally grant that blast of precise pleasure. He wanted to be the one in the driver’s seat. Eleanor had yanked that control from him with her exhibitionist displays and admissions of voyeurism. He’d been excited by her confession too. Incredibly so.
But he’d been even more excited by the idea of having her under him . . . completely at his mercy.
It’d been incredible.
When he walked into his bedroom a minute later, two glasses of water in his hands, the first thing he saw was Eleanor scurrying out of his bed. She paused in a sitting position at the edge of his bed when she noticed him. Her eyes went wide, like she’d just been caught red-handed at something.
Escape? he wondered darkly.
“Where are you going?” he asked her, his brows slanting as he walked toward her. She looked adorable, her long hair disheveled and falling over heaving breasts. Debauched. Sexy as hell.
“Nowhere,” she replied breathlessly.
He thought of asking her if she needed to go home to get some sleep. Maybe she had an early workday in the morning? That would be the logical assumption, wouldn’t it? But then her gaze dropped down over his naked body hungrily. His skin prickled beneath her stare. His cock stirred, which both gratified and annoyed him.
And instead of offering her an easy exit, he tilted his head toward the pillows. “It’s chilly. Get under the covers.”
She complied with an alacrity that soothed his ego a little. When she started to climb beneath the sheet, he set down their waters.
“Eleanor.”
She looked up at him, wide-eyed, in the process of pulling the covers over herself. He glanced down pointedly at a protruding boot.
“Oh,” she mumbled. She slid her feet and legs over the edge of the bed. Chuckling, he knelt and unzipped the boots one by one, letting them drop to the floor. Relishing the next part, he slipped his fingers beneath the top of her thigh-highs and began to roll them down her long legs, his fingers brushing against her satiny skin with more frequency than was necessary. He hadn’t lied while they’d been in the heat of things earlier. Her skin was remarkable.
He straightened, his flash of humor at her getting into bed with her boots on now mingling with renewed sexual interest. She pulled her legs up, lay back and yanked the covers all the way up to her chin, looking a little embarrassed.
“Don’t laugh at me,” sh
e told him, a smile flickering across her mouth. “You robbed me of all common sense.”
He leaned down and grabbed the edge of the bedspread and sheet. He ripped them away from her. She stared up at him, aghast.
“All your boldness too?” he asked, quirking up his brow in a challenging gesture. His smile faded as he checked out her naked body. His stare stuck on her pussy when he noticed the glint of moisture on her smooth labia. Suddenly, she shifted from her huddling position, her thighs parting, her hips shifting in a come-hither movement. Heat flashed through him. His cock perked up to attention. His gaze darted to her face, and there it was. That small, sexy, “I hold all the cards and then some” grin.
“Not all my boldness,” she assured.
He shook his head and sat at the edge of the bed. “Ingénue or witch, that’s what I’d like to know,” he mumbled to himself, leaning back next to her on the bed.
“Witch?” she asked, sitting up and propping herself on one elbow. He noticed her scowl and hid his smile by reaching for the water glass. “That’s what you’d call a . . . you know . . . a sexually confident woman?” she accused.
“No,” he replied calmly, turning toward her. “It’s what I’d call you.”
She blinked, her scowl fading. “Sit up. Drink some water,” he told her matter-of-factly. She followed his instruction, sitting up against the pillows, despite still appearing dazed. Puzzled. Miffed? She drew the sheet up over her breasts. He scowled at her covering herself, but she ignored him and reached for the glass.
“Because in my experience, men are always doing that,” she said, taking a big gulp of the water and swallowing. “Making women into either whores or virgins, sluts or saints.”
“Men think that, in your experience,” he repeated levelly, taking a swallow of his water.
“That’s right,” she said, eyes flashing.
He leaned back into the pillows. “It’s hard to imagine a guy having the ability to think much of anything when you’re flashing your pussy at him in a public place one second and running like a scared rabbit the next.”