“Remember when I had you against the car, your sweet thighs wrapped around me? You wanted something from me.” He trailed kisses up her forearm, inhaling her scent, memorizing her flavor—excitement running deep at all the flavors of her he still had to explore. “‘Please, please, Isaac,’ you begged. Do you fucking know what that did to me?”
Without waiting for an answer, Isaac gripped her elbow and yanked her close. Her breath was hot against his lips as he took her mouth. The kiss wasn’t soft; it couldn’t be. Because he was going to test her, push her, and see how far she’d let him go. Risky, maybe. Necessary? Like breathing.
Isaac cupped the back of her head, resisting the urge to dig his fingers into her curls and hold her right where he wanted her. As if transferring that thought, Mila wove both hands into his hair. Her face tilted to meet his mouth so he could bruise her lips and feel them swell. The touch of her teeth against his tongue was a sweet pain as he dipped deeply into her mouth. A deep moan drew up from deep in her throat, the reverberation caressing his cock like her physical touch.
His body was thrumming with a primal, insistent need and they’d barely just begun. They weren’t going to give in so easily. Mila—she was going to work for it, because he needed her to. He demanded it. Her supplication would bring satisfaction above and beyond the pleasure he’d find in her body. It would ease his very soul.
Isaac turned and walked backward to the bed, leading her. He sat on the edge, the mattress making a soft sound as his weight settled into his, legs wide. With a firm press of his hand on her shoulder, he brought her to her knees. Hesitant at first, she steadied herself with palms on his thighs as she lowered. And simply waited. Bringing his knuckles to his lips, Isaac watched her. She looked uncertain for a moment before her eyes narrowed, her chin tilting up. Defiance. There it was, just as he expected. She’d want to resist him … probably didn’t realize why she was still kneeling there, waiting for his word. But she was.
“What are you going to do for me, Mila?”
She cocked her head, saying nothing. His eyebrows rose, encouraging her, waiting for some response. When she gave none, Isaac dipped his gaze to her lips and kept his tone low in the way he knew worked her into knots. “The correct answer is, ‘Whatever you wish, Isaac,’ Because you are my mistress and your job is to serve me. Is that clear?”
A deep tremble went through her. “Yes.”
He ran a hand slowly down his chest to his abdomen, stopping on his belt buckle. Cupping her chin, he forced her head up higher. “Good. Show me how much you want to please me.”
Relaxing her chin into his palm, she slowly gathered her hair over one shoulder, making no move to hurry—playing him by obeying at her own pace, putting some of the power back in her own hands, and he fucking loved it. Give and take. He’d tug with her over and over.
One warm hand found the inside of his thigh just above the knee…ran up, up until her fingertips touched the seam over his groin. Isaac hissed and quickly grabbed her wrist to stop the ascent. When he bent to kiss her this time, Isaac drew it out slowly, letting his lips linger and whisper on hers. He teased her with barely there touches, and deeper, fuller presses of his open lips, encouraging her to give back to him. And she did, sliding her tongue along his, arching her breasts into the cradle of his thighs.
“Undo my belt.” He pulled the hem of his tee shirt free of his pants as Mila’s fingers worked his belt free. “Zipper,” he ground out against her lips. Cool air wafted over the opening of his jeans as the fly fell open. She pulled up the hem of his shirt to bare a strip of his abdomen, her lips finding his skin and searing their mold as she kissed his belly.
“Touch me,” he growled. Before he’d even gotten the words out, her hands were sliding up his shirt. Long strokes of her fingers massaged over his chest and raked down the ridges of his abdomen before her palms traced the spread of his ribs and back again. He crossed an arm over his body, grabbing the bottom of the shirt and whisking it over his head.
Her uttered, “You’re beautiful,” melted in his ears as he pulled her to her feet. She moved to straddle him, but Isaac stopped her, cock throbbing in protest, begging to feel the press of her heat. Catching her eyes, Isaac caressed the outsides of her thighs, absorbing the twitch of her brow and subtle way her lips moved in response.
“Kiss me.” Isaac’s thumbs traced the curve of her ass. Her mouth found his with ferocity that he wasn’t expecting. He drank it up. God, take this away and he’d be hollow again. Take Mila away and he’d be empty. Her spirit and laughter filled him up, and her acceptance completed him. What they shared was rich and sweet, nourishing and giving.
She trailed her hot mouth over his neck, pushing him back on the bed to imprint his chest with the burn of her kisses. Letting go, Isaac fell into the sensations as her hands and lips worked his body, her greedy, appreciative sounds like music. The thud of his heart took on a new pulse, one that thrummed with an ache so deep, so powerful, that it carried a sting behind his eyes. With a rushed breath, he moved Mila to the side and sat up, moved her to the center of the bed and leaned over her.
He knew this feeling—this longing that could rip him down and bring him to his knees. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, as if he could just quietly step into love with this woman. It wasn’t fair to her or to him. Goddamned emotions had no right muddying something as simple and uncomplicated as consensual sex. But here it was. He wouldn’t be fooled; wouldn’t be played.
He pulled his belt free, letting it hang from one hand in her line of sight. He didn’t really know Mila’s heart. She might be playing him like the other women in his life had—pretending to love his dominance, while secretly tolerating it to get what they wanted. He’d push them both and see if she turned away. The moment distaste or indifference crossed her face, he’d know.
Isaac trailed fingers over her hip and gave a quick pinch to ground her attention to him. Mila jerked with a quick moan. In one smooth glide, he ran the belt beneath her legs and embraced her mid-thigh. Holding her gaze, he buckled it over the seam of her legs, snugging it up enough that she could wiggle free—if she wanted to. She tried to straighten her legs, but stopped as the belt shifted.
“You will give me everything I ask for, Mila.” He gave the belt another gentle tug. “Everything.” Isaac dug his nails into her hip just enough to feel her flesh give. She was marked, between his belt, and his hands, because in this moment, and until the marks faded, she was completely his.
He palmed the outsides of her legs, adoring her silky skin as he ran them back up, over her hips to the curve of her waist and the full sides of her breasts. Gooseflesh rose on her skin, her breath tight and fast as he laved slow, soft kisses along her neck. With deliberate ease, Isaac palmed her belly and the curve of her waist, letting his fingers linger at the apex of her thighs. Bound together, her lush thighs created a tantalizing barrier around her curls. When he brushed them, Mila’s hips bucked against his hand.
Isaac kissed along her collarbone, lingering to bite and sample and worked his way to her breasts. Her nipples were silky hard peaks when he took turns pulling them into his mouth. Simultaneously, his fingers shot back between her legs, teasing over her slit, but not going between … drawing out a moan so needy and deep from her that he almost took the belt off right then. No—not yet.
He wanted to disassemble her, piece by piece.
She cried out with a tone mixed of demand and impatience.
“Are you going to beg for me, love?” Because he’d already told her she needed to and she would. “You want to be touched. Tell me.”
She made an aggravated sound, her hands squeezing his shoulders. “Yes, I want you to touch me. Please. Please.” She shifted her hips again, arching her back but didn’t straighten her legs. “I want … oh!”
He clenched his eyes against her needy tone. She was either one hell of a good actress, or she loved this game as much as he did. He wanted to believe it was the latter. Wanted it so much. Swirling his to
ngue around her belly button, Isaac worked lower until his lips touched her curls. He blew a stream of breath there.
“More!”
Her head turned to the side, her breasts heaving with a frustrated, needy breath. “Please, get in me, Isaac. Touch me … I need … now. Please.”
“I can’t. Not with you bound.” He kissed his way down, over the top of her soft folds until her thighs blocked access. The scent and feel of her clouded his brain. “I can’t touch you, or lick you. I can’t fuck you, either. Mmmm, poor, Mila.” Alternating streams of hot air and his fingers, he teased between her legs until her thighs quivered against the restraint.
“Isaac!” Heat poured over his spine at her plea. He wanted to please her so much, but this, this completed him. Like a flame, they were tossing control back and forth, never holding it too long.
“Take the belt off, Mila. All you have to do is straighten your legs and wiggle out of it.”
The sheets ruffled as she fisted them and let go, her hands returning to his shoulders. Pushing him down as she arched up to meet him. He palmed her breasts, teasing their soft weight, thumbing and suckling her nipples until a sob ripped from her throat.
And then her hands found his hair and pulled. Hard enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. Hard enough that he wanted her to do it again.
“You take it off when you think I’ve begged enough.”
That was it. Control, thrown right back in his palm, and he was going to break it. Crawling up her body, Isaac straddled her and braced himself with an arm on either side of her head. He grabbed her gaze. This wasn’t pretending, God help him. This was real. The submission, the enjoyment in her eyes was fucking real. Pressure in his chest swelled, slamming all the conflicted emotions against each other.
“You’ll keep your eyes open while I’m fucking you. Understand?” He’d had his fill of women hiding behind closed eyes. No, he was going to watch her every nuance; search for every secret.
She nodded, her thighs straining against the leather until it pressed into her skin. Isaac reached behind him and unfastened it, returning it to his hand where he doubled it and ran it down … between her breasts, lower as he slid off her body. Standing, he drew the leather over her sex and held it there; pressing it against her as he kicked off his pants, and then tossed it on the floor. Her legs opened to receive him as he knelt back over her, eyes locked on his. Just as he’d asked. Never blinking as he grabbed her hips up and pulled her down to meet him. Flickering with lust as he drove into her, thrusting fast, hard, and about lost his ability to exist.
Mila clung to him, thighs clenched around his hips, calves around his legs. Arms around his body, pulling him in, asking for more. Slipping a hand between them, he stroked her nub while he thrust, holding her gaze, even as her eyelids closed halfway and her nails dug into his shoulders.
“Look at me.” Her body shuddered, hips straining against his hand as her eyes caught his. Nothing but desire and the tortured daze of impending release looked back at him. Relief soared through him; two more strokes sent Mila over. She rose up to bury her face in the crook of his neck, biting, crying out, as he rode her through it and exploded in his own release.
Isaac lowered his weight onto her, careful to keep himself somewhat supported on his shaking forearms. Dazed, elated, he kissed her temple and nuzzled into her neck. Any doubts he had about Mila fell away, one by one, his spirit easing. No manipulation, no faking it—she’d been honest. Real. Leaving him able to do the one thing he’d longed to do since this whole thing started.
Trust her.
Read more from Elizabeth Otto’s novel The Mistress Experiment (Mistress, #1). She also invites you to subscribe to her mailing list for alerts on new releases and to connect with her on Facebook.
About The Mistress Experiment (Mistress, #1)…
A wealthy British doctor with an innocent bet:
Transform a girl from the streets into a high society mistress.
A sassy Latina who makes the agreement:
Pretend to be someone else and get a ticket out of hell.
The rules:
No sex.
No lies.
No falling in love.
As truths become twisted, and passion turns dominant and all-consuming, playing the game becomes playing for keeps. Someone must fall, leaving one question: Who will lose the Mistress Experiment?
About Elizabeth Otto…
Elizabeth Otto grew up in a Wisconsin town the size of a postage stamp, where riding your horse to the grocery store, and skinny dipping after school were perfectly acceptable. No surprise that she writes about small communities and country boys. She's the author of paranormal and hot, emotional, contemporary romance, and has no guilt over frequently making her readers cry. When not writing, she works full-time as an Emergency Medical Technician for a rural ambulance service. Elizabeth lives with her very own country boy and their three children in, shockingly, a small Midwestern town.
Annie
Romantic Erotic Quickies
Zinnia Benett
New to town, Annie quickly learns the bistro she works at appreciates her for more than her ability to deliver their drinks, and her coworkers can’t wait to get her all to themselves when their work day ends. Can Annie give herself, body and soul, to this new life?
My new job isn’t what I expected…
“Annie, did you get those guys at table four?” Susie calls to me as she blows through the kitchen and into the back room where I’m getting more napkins.
“They weren’t ready when I went by last time.”
“Well, they must be ready now because they tried to order from me.” She turns toward me, smiling and rubbing her nipples.
“Or it could just be your amazing tits.” Clara, the only other waitress at the bistro I started at yesterday, laughs and grabs Susie’s breasts in both hands.
I nearly drop the napkins I’m holding on the floor. What are they doing?
“There is that,” Susie says as Clara kneads her boobs. The top button on Susie’s shirt pops open, then Clara opens the next two. She slides her hand inside and brings out Susie’s left breast, planting her mouth on the tip while her other hand reaches for the other one.
I should be horrified, but I stand there like an idiot watching them.
Susie catches me staring at them. “We’re scaring the new girl, Clara.” She winks but despite the warning she just gave, she unbuttons her shirt until it’s hanging open. “Let us know if one of the cooks heads this way, will you?”
Clara raises her head long enough to say, “We’ve had sex with them all, Susie.”
“Oh, that’s true. Carry on.” Her eyes close and her head drops back as Clara works her breasts with both hands. Susie moans her pleasure loud enough for anyone in the kitchen to hear.
I know I should move past them, go back to work, take that order from table four, but I can’t move. Clara’s hand slips under the hem of Susie’s skirt, raising it high enough for me to see she’s not wearing any panties.
Richard, the owner of the bistro and our incredibly gorgeous boss, walks in from the back door, and doesn’t say what I think he’s going to. “You two can fondle each other later, get back to work.” He grins and slaps them both on the ass.
They groan and Clara heads to the sink to wash her hands. Susie lowers her skirt and buttons herself up, but her cleavage is still showing. When they face me again, it occurs to me that neither of them is wearing a bra. Susie’s tight shirt is stretched over her very erect nipples and damp where Clara’s mouth had just been.
She points to her tits. “See? This is what you need to do for the extra tips.”
A little bit about me…
“Our bistro is small place on purpose. Our clientele are very important to us. Not just anyone comes through that door,” Clara explains to me. “They expect a certain level of service from us.”
Something about the way she says it sends my blood running cold through my veins.
Clara reaches for my top button. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you. You know, this shirt would be fine if you took your bra off.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. Take off your bra, leave some buttons open, and you’ll be making twice the money.” She steps closer. “How old are you, Annie?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“Fresh off the farm?”
“I moved to Minneapolis a few weeks ago from Kansas. I just hope my trip here wasn’t for nothing.”
“What do you mean?” Clara asks.
“I left college, my parents, and everything else behind. I was so tired of them deciding everything for me. They even had my husband picked out.”
Clara gasps. “Holy shit.”
“That sounds like a nightmare.” Susie leans toward a mirror on the wall and checks her makeup. “But then tossing yourself out of your comfort zone can also be pretty confusing and downright frustrating.”
“Tell me about it. My landlord sent a notice yesterday that I have a little over two weeks to move.” A tear trickles down my face. “I just moved in, but I don’t have enough money to move anywhere else. Rent is so expensive here.”
“You, my dear, sweet, little friend, need a roommate,” Susie says.
“Or three,” Clara smirks.
The two women exchange a glance, then look at me.
Clara says, “We may know a place. Would you like to see it?”
“Sure. Whose apartment is it?”
“It’s ours,” Clara squeals and attack-hugs me. “You can live with us. What do you think?”
“Umm … only if you have enough room, I guess. I don’t want to put anyone out.”
“Oh, space is not a problem. We’ll go right after work.” Susie engulfs me in a warm hug, but I’m only aware of one thing—her breasts. I suppose that’s two things.
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