He’d left the bed open, so he climbed right onto it, on his knees, carrying Caro to the center. When he laid her down, he was nicely on top of her, all the right places between them perfectly matched up.
He kissed her some more, stroking her hair and face again. He lifted to look at her a couple times, but, man, he just couldn’t get enough of that mouth. Each time he lifted, he told her how beautiful she was, how good she tasted.
He liked sex—a lot—and he wasn’t stupid, so he’d pretty much made a study of what worked to get a woman into his bed and how to keep her happy once he had her there. He wasn’t above using what he’d learned in order to have things happen his way, but right now, none of it was bullshit.
She was fucking gorgeous, all turned on, eyes big, lips soft, and breath swift. And she did taste hot—sweet cream mixed with something smoky like whiskey.
He leaned over her, and she watched him with those eyes—and he watched back—as he slid his hand down to her tit again. He grabbed the nipple and pinched while he massaged the whole breast.
That worked for both of them. She moaned and arched her back, pressing her breast firmly into his hand. The movement flexed her pelvis more against him, and he got a good blast of pleasure from that.
“Sweetheart,” he said, barely keeping his eyes from rolling back in his head. “Let’s get this off.”
He tugged her sweater up with his one hand. Eyes still on his, she lifted and pulled it over her head with both hands, tantalizing him with the smooth flex of her abs. When she lay back, he had a spectacular view of her two mounds, firm and upthrust, a low-cut, lacy yellow bra just barely covering the erect nipples. They were visible behind the lace, calling to him, so very clearly needing him.
“Christ,” he said and dove to take one deep into his mouth. He sucked and tongued her, the lace rough over the hard nipple. He drew on her and tugged, almost biting to keep his hold.
She let out a small wail and bucked up against him.
He leaned over to give the same treatment to the other side and had her moaning his name.
“Caro,” he said. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He got up to his knees, keeping one thigh pressed hard between her legs. He tore his shirt off over his head and tossed it to the floor. Looming over her, he reached under with both hands to unclasp her bra. She lifted her arms to let him slide it away, and he took her hands, pressing them into the bed over her head.
Finally he had a chance to look his fill at her gorgeous tits. They lifted with her every breath, quick now and harsh.
“Caro,” he said again, fucking gratified at the sight. Did he know how to call them or what?
He still held her hands but dropped his head down to tongue her nipples. He teased as she whimpered, giving her long, slow strokes. She started writhing, wanting more even if she didn’t know it.
He obliged, abruptly taking her in and sucking hard. Unaware of what she was doing, he was sure, she started humping his leg, rocking her pussy against his thigh and crying out his name.
Smothering a triumphant laugh, he let go of her arms to circle both tits with his hands. He pushed them together and rubbed his face into them, happy as though he’d found glory land. Then he went back to her nipples, moving that little distance from one to the other, his mouth giving them hard pulls in turn.
She arched up off the bed again, helping him in every way.
He had to fuck her.
He lifted up, looking down at her. Nothing but his jeans and hers, and whatever she had on underneath, stood in his way. He looked her over as she settled, considering his options. He knew she had a fear about penetration and, no brag, but he was not a small man. He figured it might be best to keep his, uh, magnitude under wraps until she was brainless with desire.
So he stayed where he was, on his knees, straddling her one thigh. Enjoying the dark excitement in her eyes, he unfastened her jeans. Then he ratcheted the zipper down. The little swath of yellow lace stirred his inner Neanderthal.
Matching undies. She’d gotten ready for him. Neanderthal man was beating his chest and bellowing out his pleasure in conquest.
He rubbed his fingers over the lace and then slid underneath. Keeping them stiff, he wedged back the zipper and fabric of her fly. Conveniently, that brought him hard up against her clit.
He’d gotten this far once before. He knew her pussy was shaved clean and that her cunt would be already wet for him. And that it would only take a few strokes of her clit to have her slam into orgasm.
The last time, he’d been groping around in the dark, and her quick come had taken them both by surprise.
He was ready for it this time and planned to fully enjoy it.
So he kept his money fingers still and reached up with his other hand to tug one of those ever-so-sensitive nipples.
Then he sat back to watch.
He worked the nipple first, keeping pressure against her clit but no other action there.
As expected, she responded to what he was doing to her tit. She liked it so much she started to rock her pelvis again, seeking that she-didn’t-know-what. He let his fingers move with her a bit, not giving her any real stimulation, until she started to complain.
“Yes, sweetheart,” he said to her plaintive moans. “I know what you want.”
“Jack, I need—”
“I know, baby. I know.”
Still, he kept the tease up. Until her body wasn’t just rocking but bucking. Until her words weren’t just whimpers but loud complaints, objections, and instructions.
One day, and soon, he’d have her wailing at him to fuck her. This day, he settled for her begging him to help her.
And so he did. He moved his fingers, slick now from her wet pussy, rubbing fast over her clit.
She cried out immediately. In moments she was coming, her body spasming, her hands clutching his forearms, bringing him down harder onto her.
It was a hard come, and prolonged. She dug her heels in to bring her cunt up on his fingers, and it was a long bout of thrashing around on them before she collapsed back onto the bed.
He let her go when she finally went slack. She flopped her arms up to cover her face.
He worked quickly while she tried to recover herself. Leaning back, he tugged her jeans and that sweet little yellow thong off. Then he unzipped and shimmied his own jeans a little bit down his thighs.
Not elegant, but he had her exactly where he wanted her and he’d be damned if he’d miss the opportunity.
He bent her legs up a little, plopped down in between, found her opening, and sank himself in. All the fucking way.
“Oh,” she said.
Fuck yeah, oh. No shit.
* * * *
Caroline came back from that place in the stratosphere Jack had sent her to, with some effort gathering the shattered pieces together.
She found herself pierced, filled full with him.
Normally, a guy had to work his way in a little at a time, a process that wasn’t necessarily fun for her.
She wasn’t sure what to make of this. There was nothing careful about the way he shoved into her, nothing the least bit tentative.
And there was nothing at all little about it.
She opened her eyes to look at him and found him watching her.
He had no apology in his eyes. What was there was challenge and determined possession.
Their gazes held while she considered.
When she’d realized he’d pushed so deeply into her, she’d braced for pain. But she didn’t feel it. Oh, she felt impossibly stretched, for sure. He was so deep inside her and felt so, um, well, huge. He wasn’t moving, but she could feel the hard pulse of him, giving a hint of what it would be like when he did start to move.
But none of it was pain. In fact, it was rather enticing, exciting, really. One might even think it thrilling, hot.
And the way he watched her sent a little shiver through her. He was declaring ownership, staking his claim in a pretty much
literal way.
That was its own kind of thrill.
All that, and a wicked stir of excitement. That stretch around his girth, that pulse inside her, generated a significant buzz in her nerve center down there.
“Oh,” she said again.
The different tone of that one fired something in his eyes.
He didn’t ask permission. He just kept watching her while he pulled out and then thrust in one time.
And then again.
It felt good. It felt incredibly good, even when she’d just got done feeling incredibly good. Beyond her control, her body arched as a tremor of excitement rolled through her. Her breath came out in a helpless moan.
That clearly satisfied him.
She expected him to start thrashing around then, that activity men seemed to enjoy so much more than she did.
He didn’t.
Instead, he dropped his head.
Gently, he touched his lips to her left breast, on the crest, just above where her sweater would cover, over her heart.
He kissed her there, softly, once, and again after wetting his lips.
Then he sucked. Gradually, he increased the tension until there was pain. Until, she knew, he marked her.
It would be visible now, a reminder, a declaration, of his possession.
Remarkably, it thrilled her. He’d marked her as his, declared ownership. And somehow, she had no objection. She wanted it, gloried in it. It stirred her soul.
It called to her body, in that place he filled her. She wanted, needed him there. That had never happened before.
When he was satisfied, he lifted around her, bearing his weight on his elbows. He took her head in his hands, holding her face to his. He kept his gaze on hers, locking them together, while he started to thrust in earnest.
Hard and fast, taking her fully, incredibly deeply each time he lunged into her.
Her excitement rose faster than she could control. Her breath came out in rapid, rough gasps. Her heels dug into the bed, tilting her pelvis up to meet him, to make herself more open, to accept all of him, to give all of herself to him.
She closed her eyes on a groan, but he wouldn’t allow it. He tugged with his fingers curled into her hair, forcing her to look back at him.
His eyes glowed with excitement and passion. They shone with triumph, with the primal satisfaction of conquest.
Her moans were constant now, rising in volume and pitch.
He still held her hard, though his eyes were glazing over.
“I’m fucking you.”
Yes, she thought, barely able to process his words. But he tugged at her again, a couple times until she said it out loud. “Yes.”
“You like it.”
God, yes. “Yes.” Love it.
That sent him over. Pleasure was taking him. His breaths came out in guttural, harsh grunts. His body tensed, every muscle rigid as he slammed into her.
Finally, he let go of her gaze. He ground down onto her, his chest pressing into her breasts, his head dropping to the mattress beside hers. Still, he kept her facing him, turning her head so their mouths brushed and they shared the same breath.
“Caro,” he urged.
What? she thought, incoherent.
“Come, goddammit. Hurry.”
She’d never climaxed this way, with a man inside her, had never even found it to be pleasurable.
But this time, she couldn’t hold back if she’d tried. Exquisite, sharp pangs of pleasure shuddered through her, shattering. Her body spasmed, bucking against him. She cried out, clutching at him.
He drove her on, with hard, taking thrusts and urgent, earthy words.
She was still coming when he reached his peak. He clutched around her, driving in deep and holding. But still he ground against her, prolonging her orgasm even as he growled out his come, as he gushed hotly into her.
Enmeshed in each other, they collapsed with ragged, gasping breaths. Minutes passed before they calmed. Jack’s weight gradually settled heavily onto her as his body relaxed.
She didn’t object. In fact, she reveled in it.
She’d loved it all. The screaming orgasm, of course. She’d never experienced anything like it, not even close. She hadn’t even had a clue such a thing was possible.
But the rest of it, too. She loved the way he’d taken her, not asking. The crude words he’d used, none of them the proper terms for either body parts or the act of loving.
She loved, relished the way he’d claimed her, that primal kind of marking her as his. Establishing ownership.
Perhaps it wasn’t politically correct. She was a modern, independent woman. She wouldn’t have expected to be falling for a man who was so intensely male, so forceful and compelling.
He was…dominant, not to put too fine a point on it.
She might not have expected it.
But here she was, and nothing had ever, ever felt better.
Chapter Two
Jackson knew he should lift off of her. He would, in a minute.
He also knew he’d taken a huge chance, letting loose his leash as he had.
Well, that one hadn’t been a conscious decision.
Usually he had it in him to gentle a woman through their first fuck or two. Tonight, it had been beyond him.
He was fully aware of his own dom tendencies. Occasionally, he’d run into a woman who was interested in them, even appreciative of and responsive to them, rather than scared and put off. Even in those cases though, he had the sense to ease her into it, feeling his way.
Unfortunately, his attraction to those women quickly faded. He may want to dominate, but, in general, he didn’t like submissive women. Out of bed, he inevitably came to disdain them and, in bed, well, even there he lost respect for them.
He’d found out they didn’t really like sex. His urge to dominate was really all about enhancing his sexual experience. If the bitch didn’t like sex, well, he really didn’t want her around all obsequious the rest of the time. That just got on his damn nerves.
This thing with Caro was different. He liked her. She was smart and tough. She knew what she wanted in life and had the drive to go after it. She wouldn’t spend her life relying on a man to define it, to manage it for her.
And she did like sex—or she would, once she figured that out. He was sure she’d gotten a big clue just now. He had a lot to teach her, and he could tell she’d be a star pupil.
So pushing her so hard this first time, marking her and fucking her like a wild man, well, he should have done better. He should have kept control.
She’d told him about her difficult first experiences with sex. He knew she had good reason to be nervous about it.
Knowing all that hadn’t been enough to hold him back. It had been the fuck of his life, and there had been no reining it in.
What a fucking wild ride she’d given him—or he’d taken.
Well, damned if he’d apologize for it. Perhaps this was a case of begin as you mean to go on.
What else might apply?
Oh, yeah. In for a penny, in for a pound.
He was getting hard again, still fully inside her.
He lifted out of her and slapped her flank.
“Roll over. We’re not done.”
She opened her eyes lazily, all sleepy, well-fucked bemusement. She focused a bit when he lifted up enough to show her his mounting hard-on.
“Roll over,” he said again.
She met his eyes, searching, evaluating for a long minute.
He let her see what she wanted. While he waited, he took his cock, stroking, and let her view that, too.
Then he saw it, that shiver of response, of excitement, and he knew he had her.
Christ, he’d hit the fucking jackpot.
He took her hips and helped her when she moved. “Lift up,” he instructed her and stuffed a couple pillows under her.
Then she was there, displayed for him, her legs spread open with the force of his knees, her ass and pussy all exposed.
>
She was pretty as could be, her ass all smooth and pale—he’d spank it red one day soon. Her cunt glistened wet, gaping just the littlest bit from the way he’d already used her.
He told her all about it, what he saw, graphically, just the way he described what he was going to do to her.
He knew she’d been taken aback, initially, at his rough language, so not what she’d expected from him. But he’d seen when it had started to turn her on, and even now, after two rowdy orgasms, she started to moan with only his words to stimulate her.
She was a rock star of fuck.
He kept her spread wide as he leaned forward, putting his dick at the opening of her pussy. He pushed in just a little, letting her have that widest part of him, that big head of his cock.
He held there, stretching her, letting her know what she was in for.
It made her nervous, he could tell by her breathing. It came out in catchy little moans, a mix of anxiety and excitement. He hadn’t given her a chance to stress over it the last time, just pushing in as he’d done.
Now she knew what was coming, and she’d have to admit she wanted it.
He used his hand, moving his cock to ream her a little. “You want it, babe, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, quietly, into the bedding.
“What do you want me to do to you?”
She shook her head, burrowed in.
“Say it, babe. My little cunt,” he taunted. “Say it.”
“Fuck me.”
It wasn’t enough. She’d murmured it into the bed, barely audible.
“What?”
A tremor shot through her and she flexed, trying to bring herself down on him.
He wouldn’t allow it, moving back to keep just that bare connection, not letting her have more.
She groaned, frustrated, and said it again, out loud this time. “Fuck me.”
“Again, sweetheart. Louder, if you want it.”
“Fuck me, Jack!” she cried, and he let go.
Three Men and a Woman: Caroline (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 2