by Paige North
Finally, he curses under his breath, although I’m not sure what he says. All I know is that he’s clearly frustrated with me. But if I thought Connor was a master at hiding what’s really going on with himself before, I’m sure of it now as he fixes an intense gaze on me. It’s as if that gaze has the power to pull me closer—or maybe we’re both being drawn into something crazy.
In the next instant, his chilliness completely turns to heat. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his demanding voice.
“Do you or do you not want to continue this agreement?”
Yes. God yes. And maybe he can read that in me now.
“If you’re staying,” he says, “I think you know what to do.” He grips the armrest of the sofa with one hand, resting his other arm on the back of the furniture again. He jerks his chin slightly at me. “Take off that bra.”
My heartbeat clamors at my chest as I hesitate.
That cruel smile returns to his mouth. “And do it without taking off your dress.”
I must look bewildered, but I think I know what he means. And my sex tells me that I’m ready and willing for it as it pulses in damp agreement. My fingers also admit to how much I want this, because I’ve already reached up to the cap of a sleeve, easing below the gauze to pull down one bra strap.
Connor watches raptly as I bring the satin down my arm and shrug out of it. As I do the same with the other strap, the light from the TV plays over his face—every moment of need, every hint that he wants me as much as I want him.
I can’t shake the desire to have him and only him, the obsession.
I reach into the low front of my dress with both hands, slowly undoing the clasp of my bra. I pull it out of my bodice from one side, bunching the satin in my hands, not knowing what to do next.
Try to breathe again, I think. But it’s so hard with my head reeling, with my blood pounding in my temples.
All it takes for my nipples to get aroused is a long look from Connor. His wide chest is rising and falling in a shallow rhythm, as if he’s struggling to control himself. My breasts show through the wispy material, and suddenly I feel as beautiful as any of Connor’s women. I’m the one who has him here with me. Right now, no matter how ordinary I am, I’m the temporary goddess he can’t tear his gaze away from.
“What am I going to tell you to do next?” he says in a strained voice.
“Take off my panties.”
“Then do it.”
I drop the bra. My legs shake, but somehow I manage to push my undies down. They pool around my feet until I step out of them. My pussy is thoroughly juiced, because I know he can see the shadow of my slit through the thin dress, and I know he likes it.
“Stand in front of the TV,” he commands.
I do, and I revel in the thought that the light from the screen is silhouetting every curve of me. I see the same hunger in Connor’s gaze from this afternoon, and even through the haze of my vision, I realize something earthshattering.
He might own me in some hot, inexplicable way, but I own him, too. At least I do right now.
Shyly testing how far I can push him, I take a step to the side so that my legs are apart. Connor grits his jaw, and I push him further, inching up the hem of my baby doll dress. At the sight of my pussy, his gaze goes unfocused, a little mad with a banked desire that he would probably rather die before admitting to.
But the anger and hurt I felt only a few breathless minutes ago is still there, and at the certainty of this small power I have over him, the need for revenge overcomes me.
I drop my skirt, and as Connor’s gaze clears, I walk away just as coolly as the billionaire himself would.
“I think that’s quite enough for tonight, Mr. Kenyon.”
I don’t get two steps away before he stops me by grabbing my dress. The fabric tears as he hauls me close enough to see the fire in his eyes and the lust that nearly takes me out at the knees.
“What kind of game are you playing?” he rasps.
Chapter 7
As we glare at each other, my heartbeat dominates every other sound in the room. The seconds hammer by, trading slams with my frenzied pulse. I want to punish Connor for coming home late, for treating me like an afterthought to his day, for being so blatant about preferring other, better women to me.
I start to leave again, but he doesn’t let go of my dress. He tugs me toward him a little harder, and the fabric rips more as it comes all the way off of one shoulder, baring one of my nipples.
When Connor’s gaze latches onto it, I pause just long enough to let him yearn. I like the pure greed I see in him, and I want him to ache as much as I’m aching. Heat has taken the place of the blood in my veins, steaming through me, ticking in my belly and clit until I feel as if I’m dripping for him, drenched and desperate.
He slides down my dress a bit more, exposing all of my breast. My sharp breathing cuts through the room.
“Fuck,” he says through clenched teeth. “Fuck what you do to me.”
“What do I do?” I manage to ask, my voice trembling.
He pulls his gaze away from my breast, and for a passion-ridden second, I think that he’s about to snap, telling me the reason there’s such darkness clouding his eyes, such secrecy ruling his life.
Then he tenses up. “I told you—no questions. Ever.”
He yanks at my dress to pull me closer, but I’m still in the mood to punish him. I break away and rush toward my temporary bedroom, not even bothering to cover myself with the dress. I slam the door behind me, but when I try to find a lock, there isn’t one there.
I back away from the door, finally having enough presence of mind to cover my naked breast with the dress. Listening closely for the sound of him coming to get me, I bite my lip. Is he on his way? Is he going to take what he paid for?
A bolt of fear strikes me mainly because, if he’s determined to have me tonight, I’m a virgin, a first-timer, and I have no idea what to expect beyond the obvious. But then as the shivers that are wracking my body seem to melt into pulsing aches in my pussy, I realize that this isn’t fear so much as excitement.
Arousal.
This is me, I think again.
After waiting a couple of minutes, I don’t hear him coming. My panting breaths smooth out along with my heartbeat. A sinking sensation in my gut brings me to the realization that I pushed him too far. I pushed him completely away.
Perversely, I wanted him to come after me and he didn’t.
I look across the room at a mirror on my vanity table to see myself in my sweet yet naughty dress. I see my stimulated nipples pebbling against the light cotton. The side stitching is loose where Connor tore it in his passion for me.
My pussy thuds with an agonizing plea to go back out there, to start over again. But it already might be too late…
I slide my fingers under the bottom of my dress, then touch myself. As I stroke into my wet folds, I try to assuage the pain Connor has left me with, but it’s no use. Only he can help me now.
With a deep breath, I stop trying to soothe myself and straighten my dress. I’m going to go back out there. I’m going to tell him…
But then I do hear quick footsteps.
When the door bursts open, I gasp and stumble back. I see Connor standing there with fire in his eyes, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“I sat there telling myself that you could damned well spend the rest of the night in here alone,” he says in a low, raw tone. “But the more I sat there, the more I realized that you came in here to avoid our argument.”
I’m not the only one who hides, I think, but I don’t dare say it.
“Why would I hide from the apology you’re about to give to me?” I ask instead.
He moves all the way into my room. His hair is a mess, as if he’s pulled his fingers through it in frustration. He looks like a strong, imposing beast who’s just been tormented and is ready to lash back.
I retreat toward my bed, chills running over my skin then immediately melting i
nto white-hot streaks of flame.
“You’re not looking for any kind of apology, Goldilocks,” he says. “That’s not why you started things up with me.”
“Wrong. I do want an apology.”
“No—what you want is to be fucked right now.”
He’s stoking the fight in me, the fire, because he’s absolutely right. “What I want is to tell you to fuck off.”
I stare furiously into his eyes, and as a flash of electricity zings between us, he stalks toward me, closing the distance. Before I can haul in a breath, he pulls me against him, crushing his mouth to mine.
My mind crashes, sending up whirlwinds of sparkling dust and desire. Animal instinct takes me over as I grab his shirt, clinging until I hear the seams tear. He kisses me senseless, ravishing me, and I give it to him right back. Lips, tongues, teeth—we go at each other as if famished, never getting enough, always wanting more.
One of his hands is in my hair, fisting it, the other on my bottom, squeezing my cheek with every stroke of his tongue. I claw at the buttons on his shirt, yanking until the fastenings pop off. He drags his mouth to my neck, gnawing at my tender skin until I make small, wild sounds that beg and plead for him to take me now. My sex is pulsating, driving me onward with every fierce, sharp beat.
Instinctively, I grab his wrist, and he lets go of my bottom, bringing his hand to the front of my dress and slipping beneath it.
He works my ear with his mouth as he urges my legs apart, his fingers separating my folds, stroking me up then down me as my juices make me even slicker. I let out a shuddering breath as I cling to his hard, muscled arm and his powerful shoulder.
“You’re already there, Goldi,” he says. “Sweet as honey, and just as thick. That’s how you tasted this afternoon.”
As he spreads my cream around, massaging it over my clit, a punch of desire makes me bite the area between his shoulder and neck.
A flush roars over my skin, then I feel him moving backward toward the bed, bringing me with him. He sits on the mattress, and with a demanding pull, hauls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him.
Our gazes meet again in ardent combat. This fight isn’t over—it’s only started—and when he brings my hips against his groin, a forceful gasp escapes me.
He keeps me against him so I can feel his tip nudging my sex. Then, as he guides me to churn against him, I’m so wet that I slip over the fabric of his tuxedo trousers. If my clit wasn’t screaming before, it is now. It’s tight, in need of a release.
“Are you…?” I start to ask.
“Ready to fuck you?” His gaze is darker than ever. “I’ve been ready since I saw your picture on the website. But you’re asking a question, sweet Allyson. You need to follow the rules, stop asking, and start doing.”
As if punishing me in his own way, he bends to fasten his mouth to my nipple. I take in a shocked breath as he laves his tongue around it and sucks on it until the fabric of my dress is wet. He lightly bites me, and I wince, but not from pain. He looks into my eyes while running his hand up my ribs then cupping my breast, pushing it up and making it feel sensuously fuller. Then, with an arrogant grin, he tongues my distended tip again, teasing me.
“Jerk,” I whisper.
With a groan, he sucks my nipple through my dress again, then stops and meets my gaze. His eyes are unfocused. Is there something there, real feelings…for me?
No, I think as I wiggle against him. He doesn’t feel anything for me and I don’t feel anything for him. This is sex.
This is heaven.
He grips my hips and urges me to grind against his cock again, his tip flirting with the passage of my sex. The wet sound of him prodding me sends my passion spiking. It’s as if hot arrowheads are pushing at me from the inside out, branding me with pressure and wonderful anguish.
With a savage tug, he pulls hard and fast at my dress, and the sound of tearing material makes me laugh, suddenly crazy and giddy. The fabric slumps down around my arms, exposing both of my breasts, and he lavishes erotic attention on my other nipple as he kneads the breast he was just kissing. My juices are bathing my thighs, my pussy beating until I want to cry.
While pressure expands inside of me—sharp and torturous—I move my hips forward, forcing him to raise his head from my breast. I wiggle against the tip of his cock longer, harder, and just as I think I can’t stand it anymore I climb to the edge of sanity, poised over it as if I’m about to drop. With a fiery burst, it’s as if I’ve combusted into sparks that fly in every direction, and I cry out.
With a low, guttural sound that vibrates the air, Connor pulls me all the way onto the bed. My back is to the mattress as I tear off his shirt, my turbulent afterglow making me bolder and hotter than ever. I throw his shirt away and go for the top button on his fly, but then he drives his cock against me and I grip his hips, moaning. He grinds against my clit until I utter a low, helpless groan.
“Connor…”
“Come for me again,” he says from between his clenched teeth. “You’re soaked and ready. Every time my cock comes near you, your pussy creams more.”
“So when…?”
“Fuck the questions.”
The command in his voice shuts me up—or maybe it’s the way he’s still expertly working me with his tip against my clit. We’re both so in to it that every nudge pushes me farther down the mattress. I wrap my legs around him, raising one hand over my head as I start to go over the edge of the bed.
As I arch over the side, he pauses, keeping the tip of his cock against me. The world is upside down, sweat misting my skin, the remnants of my dress slipping down my body in this suspended moment of erotic bliss.
Then everything swirls around me as Connor hauls me back up to the bed, crushing me to him for a long, wicked, hard kiss. I claw at his chest, desperate to have him inside me, even with the tiny twist of fear that’s drilling through my belly.
My very first time, I think. When is it going to happen…?
Connor slows the kiss down, stroking my tongue with his until I realize that I’ve scratched my nails down his chest, leaving red streaks. He merely looks at the carnal wounds, then at me. There’s such heat in his gaze that I can’t move, even as he gets off the bed and does away with the rest of his clothing.
This is it, I think, my heartbeat accelerating. He won’t be using a condom, so I’m going to feel all of him inside of me. I agreed to that condition, knowing we’d both entered into a safe contract.
But then he’s got his clothes off, every inch of him bared—all those glorious, hard muscles. All that tanned, smooth skin.
All of him, and he’s erect.
My god, he’s huge, and I gape.
“Don’t worry,” he says as if he’s gone through this before with other virgins. “Trust me.”
“But…”
I expect impatience from Connor, but he’s not that way right now. There’s something in his eyes that goes beyond anything I’ve yet experienced with him, and again, it seems to go beyond mere sex.
Something goes liquid in my chest, but why? I don’t love him, and he sure doesn’t love me.
He comes onto the bed, resting a hand on my leg. I swallow hard, my gaze going to his engorged cock again.
He slides his hand up my thigh, and I let him do it. Part of me is ready to run, part of me is one giant throb that opens more for him with every insane heartbeat.
“Lie down,” he whispers.
That same heartbeat blinds me as I do as he says. He smooths his hand beneath the skirt of my dress, and I part my legs for him.
“That’s it,” he says.
He strokes my pussy with his thumb, getting me going again, hot and bothered, scared and not scared. He circles my clit, stirring my juices, and I shift my hips.
“You’re wetter than anyone I’ve ever fucked,” he says. “Why is that, Allyson?”
“Because I want you.”
He slides a finger into me, and I make a hungry, agitated sound.
“H
ow does that feel?” he asks.
He pushes into me, then out, then in, and I sigh at the tight, velvet sensation that he gives me with every gentle thrust.
“That feels good,” I whisper.
He swirls his finger, and I lift my hips in building ecstasy.
“And now?” he says.
I’m still moving with him, folding both hands over my head to grasp at the bedspread, watching him as he watches me with that ravenous gaze.
“Real good,” I say.
He slips a second finger into me, and I bite my lip, adjusting to the feel. He slowly pumps in and out of me, swirling some more, urging me to move with him. As I close my eyes and gyrate, he slips his other hand under my skirt, using a thumb to rub my clit. Another awakening orgasm throbs inside of me. My mind goes foggy.
I want this. I need this. Need him.
“Connor…” I murmur, as if in a fever dream.
He clearly hears the craving in my voice, because he stops priming me. He eases off what’s left of my dress and tosses it aside. Then, as he presses his body over mine, I groan again. Muscles, skin. Him.
I spread my legs a little wider until I feel his tip. He nudges into my entrance, and I feel myself expand around him. Sucking in a breath, I tense up. He withdraws.
“Please.” I grab his arm. “I’m going to die if you stop.”
As he looks down into my eyes, I see that unnamable emotion again, but then it disappears in a haze of desire when he slides his cock into me again, farther this time. His jaw is tight as if he’s holding himself back, and I grip him tighter.
He pauses, watching me, and in a fit of desire I raise my hips, slipping up and onto his shaft a bit more.
“That’s right,” he says, pulling out then pushing into me more—there’s so much of him—and I wince.
Then he rears back and gently drives into me again until he’s all the way inside me.
It hurts. The size of him…the tight sensation… But I want this, want him.
“Please,” I say.
With a sharp groan, he pulls back then strokes inside me. He reaches between my legs, and from that point on he fucks me while massaging my clit. A flare of ecstasy lights me up, and I move easily with every one of his pushes, a climax pulsing inside me with every thrust.